Mo Hua was already fourteen years old.
Cultivators have a long lifespan, even an ordinary Qi-refining cultivator could live for approximately one to two hundred years.
Being in one’s teens was not considered old for a cultivator.
Bai Zisheng told Mo Hua that in some large noble clans, any cultivator under the age of eighteen was still considered a child.
Because members of noble clans generally had higher cultivation levels and longer lifespans, a decade or so was insignificant to them.
However, in Tongxian City or other lower-tier immortal cities, many loose cultivators might never progress beyond the Qi-refining realm in their entire lives.
Therefore, anyone over fifteen was regarded as a young lad.
If one did not have access to the right avenues in Tao cultivation and couldn’t advance one’s cultivation level, one had to learn a Tao cultivation skill to become self-reliant in the future.
That’s what Da’hu and Dazhu had done.
Da’hu and his two companions learned monster hunting, while Dazhu learned artifact refining.
The purpose was to ensure they had enough to eat.
Mo Hua had become a first-grade Formation Master, capable of supporting himself, but he still didn’t look very old.
One reason was that he was inherently weak and grew slowly, making him shorter than his peers.
Another was that he had never practiced body refinement, which made him appear even thinner.
People like Da’hu and Dazhu were naturally big and tall and had practiced body refinement, so even though they were only three or four years older than Mo Hua, they were much taller than him.
Mo Hua couldn’t help but sigh.
He too wished to be tall and strong.
Unfortunately, he spent every day drawing formations, exhausting his mind and energy. He did eat quite a bit, but he didn’t grow much in height...
Now at fourteen, he was only a little taller than he had been at thirteen.
His junior brother Bai Zisheng was a head taller than him, and his junior sister Bai Zixi, with her tall stature, was also half a head taller than him.
Furthermore, with Mo Hua’s delicate features and fair complexion, he resembled a porcelain doll, making him appear even younger.
"When will I grow taller?" Mo Hua pondered somewhat dejectedly.
He glanced at Bai Zisheng sitting to his left and then at Bai Zixi to his right, silently thinking to himself:
"I at least need to be taller than my junior sister..."
Bai Zixi gave him a puzzled look, "What are you thinking about?"
Mo Hua shook his head, "Nothing at all!"
The color of the fireball had deepened slightly, and amidst the dark red was a hint of dazzling beauty, teeming with explosive spiritual power.
It was unassuming yet resplendent, with danger lurking within its brilliance.
Mo Hua couldn’t help but wonder.
If he continued to cultivate the Fireball Technique to its pinnacle, what would the effect be, and how strong could the power become?
Mo Hua tried to imagine, but he couldn’t conceive of it.
The effects of the spells beyond the Foundation Establishment Realm were beyond his comprehension.
When he had time, he would ask Old Kui.
Old Kui should know.
After all, his Fireball Technique was taught by Old Kui, as were the techniques for using spells.
Then came the matter of divine sense.
The divine sense with twelve patterns in Foundation Establishment was indeed much stronger than before.
His divine sense was more acute, his calculations faster, and his perception of the surrounding spiritual power more distinct.
Previously, drawing the Thick Earth Formation with eleven patterns was adept yet somewhat strenuous.
Now, when drawing the same formation, it felt much easier.
The fact that he now had a twelve-pattern divine sense...
Mo Hua thought for a moment and then went to find Mr. Zhuang:
"Master, could you teach me how to use the Slaying Divine Thought method?"
He remembered Mr. Zhuang saying before that once his divine sense grew stronger, he would teach him how to deal with parasitic divine sense.
How to oppose, or even destroy, divine sense or divine thoughts—or malicious intentions from others, when they invaded the Sea of Consciousness, whether they came from humans or non-humans.
Now that his divine sense had reached twelve patterns, it should be considered strong.
Mr. Zhuang calculated with his fingers and said:
"There’s still plenty of time, no rush, wait until your divine sense grows stronger."
"It needs to be stronger..." Mo Hua muttered quietly.
"Haste makes waste," Mr. Zhuang spoke gently.
"Yes," Mo Hua nodded.
He continued to ask: