Chapter 93: Limits

Zhang Lan saw Mo Hua's subtle thoughts and snorted: "I don't know illusion techniques, but the spells I know are no less impressive."

"Mm-hmm, Uncle Zhang, you're so powerful." Mo Hua replied dismissively.

Zhang Lan ignored him and returned to the subject: "Do you know who used the illusion technique?"

"How would I know?"

Mo Hua shook his head; though he said so, the hazy figure of Sister Xue, her veil covering her face, flashed through his mind.

Among the high-level cultivators Mo Hua had encountered, there were only a few, and Sister Xue was the most likely—plus, illusion techniques matched the impression she had left on him.

"You guessed it?" Zhang Lan raised an eyebrow, watching Mo Hua's expression.

Zhang Lan, being from Dao Ting Si, was indeed sharp-eyed, despite his lazy appearance.

Mo Hua thought to himself, then asked Zhang Lan: "What will Dao Ting Si do about this?"

"Nothing," Zhang Lan sipped his wine lazily. "A cultivator who can use illusion techniques is no ordinary person. The Qian family won't dare make a fuss or investigate. Since they stay silent, Dao Ting Si is happy to keep quiet too—no need to intervene."

"Will the Qian family just give up?" Mo Hua didn't believe it.

"The Qian family has a Foundation Establishment cultivator guarding them, yet someone still slipped in unnoticed and cast an illusion on their young master—yet they found not a single clue. That alone is enough to terrify them…"

Zhang Lan also felt a touch of schadenfreude and continued: "This person could use illusion to drive Qian Xing mad, and could just as easily use another spell to kill him. He used illusion only to intimidate—to warn the Qian family to mind their own business and not meddle where they shouldn't. If the Qian family can't grasp this basic reasoning, they'd never have become the top family in Xiancheng."

"In the end, the Qian family is merely a first-grade family, at the very bottom among graded clans, nowhere near true aristocratic houses."

Mo Hua suddenly understood: families had their hierarchies. Zhang Lan, being from a prominent clan, truly knew the ins and outs.

"Alright, this matter is settled. Even if Qian Xing is cured, after these incidents, he won't dare cause trouble again. You just focus on your cultivation and learn the arrays." Zhang Lan's tone grew lighter.

"Thank you, Uncle Zhang," Mo Hua said.

Given Zhang Lan's lazy nature, seeking out Mo Hua for idle chat, though meant to pass the time, was still a form of care—Mo Hua could see that clearly.

Zhang Lan glanced at Mo Hua and thought: This kid really has good connections.

Leaving aside the demon hunters, that fellow named Chen Dazhu daring to stand up against Qian Xing was already rare enough; even the neighbors and fellow cultivators in the street treated Mo Hua warmly.

As for the cultivator who used illusion techniques, it's unlikely he had absolutely no connection to Mo Hua.

Who would waste time terrifying a stranger's son into madness?

Zhang Lan shook his head, bid Mo Hua farewell, and left.

"Uncle Zhang, take care!" Mo Hua waved his small hand.

After Zhang Lan left, Mo Hua sat at the table, rummaged through his storage pouch, and stared at the thick stack of arrays inside, feeling a pang of regret.

Too bad—now that Qian Xing won't cause trouble, these arrays have no use.

And that illusion technique—was it really Sister Xue who used it?

Mo Hua wondered.

The next day, after seeking advice from Mr. Zhuang on arrays, Mo Hua went to visit the Bai siblings.

Bai Zisheng was dozing off; Bai Zi Xi was reading.

Mo Hua quietly stared at Bai Zi Xi, trying to see if she knew anything—but her face, beautiful as ever, revealed nothing.

Bai Zi Xi sensed Mo Hua's gaze, turned her head, and looked at him curiously.

Their eyes met; Mo Hua whispered:

"Was Sister Xue home three nights ago?"

Bai Zi Xi thought for a moment, then smiled faintly: "Seems she wasn't."

"Oh," Mo Hua understood, and stopped asking.

After a while, he whispered again: "I still have osmanthus cakes at home—want some?"

Bai Zi Xi nodded. Mo Hua smiled with narrowed eyes. Then both returned to their books, saying nothing more.

With Qian Xing's matter settled, Mo Hua could now cultivate in peace.

He wanted to reach Qi Refinement fifth layer as soon as possible, so he could learn spells.

Mo Hua was still eager for spells—he didn't dare dream of illusion techniques, which even Zhang Lan didn't know, but simple ones like lighting a fire or summoning lightning should be fine.

Just thinking about it made him a little excited.

But cultivation is a slow, steady process—daily Qi intake is limited, and the refined spiritual energy is limited too. As long as he trained regularly, that was enough; he couldn't rush it, nor slow it down much.

At his current pace, it would still take some time to reach Qi Refinement fifth layer.

As for arrays, Mo Hua could now draw arrays with seven array lines, but not yet eight.

Probably due to insufficient spiritual sense—he struggled to learn them, forced to try only simpler structures. But eight array lines were already the limit for ordinary array masters; ungraded array cultivators typically could only draw up to this level.

Mo Hua now drawing seven array lines meant he was already a genuine little array master.

Mo Hua couldn't help feeling a small sense of pride.

After eight comes nine—nine array lines, and he would enter first grade!

Once he could draw nine array lines, he could prepare for the first-grade array master evaluation.

Mo Hua had heard that the array master evaluation was the strictest, most demanding, and hardest test among all cultivation disciplines.

"I wonder what arrays they'll test?"

Mo Hua felt nervous, yet also excited.

If he became a first-grade array master, he could receive spiritual stones every month without doing a thing—even if he someday lost his cultivation ability, he'd still have a safety net and wouldn't starve.

Mo Hua was deeply envious.

Yet across all of Xiancheng, including every clan and sect, only a handful of cultivators passed the evaluation to become first-grade array masters—let alone a poor, unaffiliated cultivator like him. Clearly, the evaluation was extremely difficult.

Mo Hua could already draw eight array lines, and the gap from eight to nine was just one step—but that step felt impossibly distant.

Previously, Mo Hua had trained day and night, sensing steady growth in his spiritual sense; now, though he practiced harder and more frequently, the growth felt barely noticeable.

At this rate, how long would it take to draw nine array lines?

Mo Hua had asked Mr. Zhuang about this issue.

Mr. Zhuang's expression was somewhat complicated; it was the first time Mo Hua had seen such a look on Mr. Zhuang's face.

"Haven't you realized that the cultivator's realm is too low…"

Mr. Zhuang silently looked at Mo Hua. "No matter how strong your divine sense is, it always has a limit. The foundation of divine sense's strength is your realm."

Mo Hua suddenly understood, feeling he had asked a foolish question.

A cultivator's physical body and the strength of spiritual power also have limits, and these limits naturally depend on the cultivator's realm. Even if one cultivates within the same realm to the extreme, without breaking through the realm, spiritual power and physical body will not grow stronger.

It's just that cultivators cultivate the physical body and spiritual power, but not divine sense, so Mo Hua momentarily forgot.

"Thank you, Mr., for the guidance."

Mo Hua said, a little embarrassed. After asking a few more questions, he rose and took his leave.

"Divine sense has a limit…" Mr. Zhuang watched Mo Hua's tiny figure disappear at the end of the small road, stared blankly for a long while, then laughed self-deprecatingly: "I've taught so many cultivators, but this seems to be the first time I've said that…"

After a moment, Mr. Zhuang looked again at Mo Hua, who was drawing formation arrays under the big locust tree, and said with a profound gaze: "Divine sense… is it really limited…"