Chapter 272: Chapter 271 Asking for Directions_1
Between the cliffs, on the invisible path, Mo Hua carefully made his way.
After the time it took to brew a pot of tea, Mo Hua finally reached the opposite side.
As he climbed onto the opposite cliff and his feet touched the ground, the fog around him suddenly thickened, and the miasma intensified, causing dizziness and a feeling of congestion.
Mo Hua quickly took out two Miasma Repelling Pills and swallowed them, circulating his Spiritual Power to assimilate the medicine’s effect, which made him feel somewhat better.
Looking around, he found himself in a small forest with no one else in sight.
Apart from the heavier fog and more potent poison, it was not much different from the Inner Mountain.
“Where are those Sin Cultivators? Could they not be here?”
Mo Hua muttered to himself.
Mo Hua walked around cautiously for a while, and found that the sunlight was obscured by the thick fog, making the forest hazy and indistinct, so much so that he could no longer discern his bearings and had no idea where he was.
Most crucially, there was no trace of any cultivator.
Mo Hua sat on the ground, somewhat puzzled.
Could it be that he had guessed wrong?
That shouldn’t be the case...
Mo Hua pondered for a while and then suddenly found it strange.
On the other side of the mountain cliff, the sunlight was bright, and the fog was not very thick, but on this deep mountain side, just divided by a stone path, why was the fog so dense?
The difference in sunlight on both sides was not significant; logically speaking, even if the fog was slightly thicker, it shouldn’t reach such a level of density.
Mo Hua released his Divine Sense and took a closer look, his brow suddenly furrowing.
In the fog, there was a faint interweaving of Spiritual Power, like patterns, condensed around.
An ordinary cultivator might not notice it, but Mo Hua could tell at a glance that these were Formation Patterns drawn by a Formation Master!
Mo Hua had an epiphany.
This dense fog in the deep mountains was not naturally so heavy; it was the mischief of a Formation Master’s Formation, which made the deep mountain fog so thick that one could not see their own hand in front of them.
Mo Hua’s spirits uplifted, and following the positions of the Formation Patterns, he found a large tree and took out a dagger to chip away at the bark.
The dry bark was chipped away, and inside there indeed was a Formation hidden.
The Formation with nine patterns was a first-grade Formation Method, with its Patterns mainly of the Water Series. The penmanship showed some variations, and the style looked somewhat unfamiliar.
Mo Hua had never seen it before, but he guessed it should be a Fog Formation.
The purpose of the Formation was to condense moisture and let it hover over the land and between the trees, creating fog that does not easily disperse.
Mo Hua found this novel and seeing no one around, took out paper and a brush. He began to copy the Formation, carefully reproducing each stroke.
Ordinarily, the best method to learn a Formation is to use a Formation Diagram.
On a Formation Diagram, there are detailed Formation Patterns, including the sequence of strokes, the proportion of ink used, types of Formation Patterns, the structure of the Formation Pivot, and other points of attention.
To deduce the drawing method of a Formation from an existing one is a quite difficult task.
But no matter how difficult, it was merely an ordinary first-grade Formation Method. Although the Patterns were somewhat special, they were still within the scope of the Five Elements Formation and were not much of a challenge to Mo Hua.
After drawing it five or six times, Mo Hua had mastered most of it and had a good grasp of it in his heart.
The thick fog could deceive people, but the laid-out Formation was fixed and could not deceive, especially not Mo Hua.
Not only inside this bark, but all around on the ground, the rocks, and within the bushes, were sparsely scattered with this same Formation.
Based on the position of the laid-out Fog Formation, he could roughly infer the paths within the fog.
With this thought, Mo Hua’s vision suddenly cleared.
He did not need to concern himself with the fog; as long as he used the Fog Formation within the fog as a guide, he would not get lost.
The Formation Master who laid out the Fog Formation intended to use the dense fog to confuse directions.
However, instead, his Fog Formation allowed Mo Hua to find his way.
Mo Hua’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately thought of that phrase:
Midnight, the third watch, to offer one’s name and seek a path.
It seemed that they were from out of town, wanting to throw in their lot with the Sin Cultivators in the deep mountains.
Mo Hua frowned—did he really have to wait along with them?
Time was getting on; he wanted to head back soon.
But having come this far, if he didn’t follow them, the lead would be lost, and he might never get such an opportunity again in the future.
“Guess I’ll wait...”
And Mo Hua patiently waited as well.
As noon approached and the fat and thin cultivators grew bored, they also felt hungry and took out some dry food to eat.
The thin one chewed a few mouthfuls before he spit them out:
“Dry and hard, it’s like eating bird shit—it’s fucking torture!”
The fat cultivator glanced at him indifferently, “Having something to eat is good enough, otherwise would you rather eat prison food in the Taoist Prison?”
The thin cultivator laughed sheepishly, “Couldn’t eat that for many meals, I reckon I’d end up eating dead man’s last meal.”
The fat cultivator shook his head.
Suddenly, the thin cultivator asked, “Brother, how many lives have you taken?”
The fat cultivator contemplated for a moment, then raised his eyebrows, “About six, I suppose.”
The thin cultivator gave him a thumbs up, “Still, brother, you are mighty. I’ve only got four.”
After counting them, he said, “An old man over a hundred years old, a cultivator in his thirties, a female cultivator, and her child.”
The fat cultivator was slightly taken aback, “You’re counting the child too?”
“Without the child, there’d be only three. I was afraid I might shame you, brother.”
“No matter,” the fat cultivator patted his shoulder, “Stick with me and once we enter these deep mountains, you’ll have all the good food and drink you want, and no one will look down on you.”
The thin cultivator was overjoyed, “I’ll be relying on big brother then!”
The fat cultivator took a package from his chest, containing a piece of dried meat and a flask of wine.
“I saved this specially. We brothers were fated to meet, and we escaped from the hands of the Taoist Court’s dogs, traveling all the way to these mountains. From hardships to sweetness, it’s worth celebrating.”
The thin cultivator’s eyes sparkled, “Big brother really thinks of everything.”
The two shared the meat and drank the wine. The food wasn’t filling, and the wine wasn’t enough, but they were content.
After eating, the fat cultivator realized it was nearly the third watch of the night. Suddenly frowning, he pointed to the side:
“There seems to be something by that tree stump.”
The thin cultivator, slightly tipsy, looked puzzled and got up to check.
The fat cultivator quietly moved behind the thin cultivator and, taking him by surprise, suddenly drew his sword, and stabbed him right through the heart.
Caught in his bewilderment, the thin cultivator felt a pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw the tip of a sword sticking out, his heart pierced, and then as the sword was withdrawn, blood gushed forth.
He slowly turned around, his face showing disbelief.
The fat cultivator looked cold, “Good brother, this meal, it’s also your last meal.”
The thin cultivator’s eyes showed anger and sadness. He tried to struggle but the fat cultivator grabbed his throat, pressed his hand against the tree stump, and with one slash, beheaded him.
The head rolled to the ground, blood spattered everywhere, staining the fat cultivator’s clothes red.
The fat cultivator was unconcerned.
“We were brothers after all. You drank my wine, ate my food, so borrowing your head for a moment shouldn’t be too much, right?”
After finishing his words, he stepped forward, picked up the head that had not closed its eyes in death, and threw it toward the dark mountain wall in the distance.
When the head landed, the mountain wall abruptly vanished.
A bloodstained and sinister mountain gate appeared, with three ancient characters on it:
Black Mountain Stronghold.