The Quest for Immortality - Chapter 1108 (Patreon)

Chapter 1108: Gray Wolf Sect

After the banquet, the title of “Mo Hua—disciple of a fifth-rank great sect, personally taught formations by a Return-to-Void Ancestor, late-stage Foundation Establishment at ten years—peerless cultivation prodigy” spread far and wide, stirring an uproar across Immortal-Passage City.

There were things people didn’t quite grasp.

After all, a fifth-rank province was too distant from their lives to feel real.

How big a “great sect” truly was, what kind of realm “Return to Void” signified—most had no real concept.

But the cultivation of “late-stage Foundation Establishment” was an ironclad fact.

And to have advanced from early-stage to late-stage Foundation Establishment in only ten years shocked them even more.

The local street-side cultivators of Immortal-Passage City felt it most keenly.

They had watched Mo Hua grow up.

In the blink of an eye—barely a decade or two—the boy who once ran all over the streets painting formations for folks, the bright and kind little formation master, had become a powerful cultivator at late-stage Foundation Establishment. It felt unbelievable.

In Immortal-Passage City, that was already top-tier—“ancestor-level.”

The Qian Family Ancestor who once did evil with a single hand covering the sky had, when you got down to it, been only mid-stage Foundation Establishment.

How could that not leave them both shaken and delighted?

Almost every cultivator in Immortal-Passage City—be they demon hunters, artifact refiners, pill masters, ordinary loose cultivators, or members of small clans—had benefited from Mo Hua, had asked him to paint formations.

Mo Hua’s cultivation rising high made them genuinely happy. It even gave them face when they bragged outside.

In the eyes of other itinerant cultivators from elsewhere, being in his early twenties and already late-stage Foundation Establishment practically cemented Mo Hua’s identity as “an immortal child descended to the mortal world.”

In many small immortal cities, the strongest cultivators were no more than early-stage Foundation Establishment.

At Mo Hua’s age and realm, he was truly “a defier of heaven.”

For a time, Mo Hua’s fame soared.

Countless cultivators wanted to visit him. Invitations and calling cards flew to the Mo family’s gate like snowflakes.

Mo Shan declined most of them.

As a father, he felt for his child, knowing Mo Hua had returned from afar and needed rest, not disturbance.

Receiving guests eats time and spirit.

Mo Hua only met and chatted with a few familiar elders and friends; all unfamiliar visitors were politely refused.

He didn’t have time to pay visits elsewhere either.

But there was one exception.

A few days later, Mo Hua made a special trip to Apricot Forest Pavilion to pay respects to Old Master Feng.

Old Master Feng had a healer’s heart and disliked clamor. His lifelong wish was to save the dying and help the distressed. He had always been conscientious, steadfastly keeping to his principles.

When Mo Hua was small, he was frail and often ill, and Old Master Feng had cared for him many times. So in Mo Hua’s heart there was both respect and gratitude.

After several noisy days, when he found a free moment, he went to visit in person.

Apricot Forest Pavilion had been renewed—far more spacious than before. Elder Yu had built it especially for Old Master Feng.

Old Master Feng was advanced in years, his energy lacking. He sat in consultation less and spent most of his time taking disciples and passing on his craft.

He wished to teach the pill path he had studied all his life to disciples so that they in turn could spread their branches and leaves—treating more poor loose cultivators out in the world.

When Mo Hua arrived, Old Master Feng was lecturing his disciples.

With a head of white hair and keen eyes, he taught with gentle rigor, not missing a single word.

Mo Hua didn’t disturb him, but sat aside to listen.

Mo Hua’s skill in alchemy was, in truth, poor. Back in the Great Void Sect, his pill-path assessments always barely scraped a passing “C.”

But poor hands-on skill did not mean he knew nothing of pill theory.

The Great Void Sect was a fifth-rank great sect. Its transmission was a complete system encompassing cultivation, Dao arts, formations, pills, artifacts, and talismans. Many aspects of the Dao could be left unmastered but not unknown.

And because a great sect had deep foundations, even if Mo Hua only learned the “basics” of the pill path and still earned a “C,” his theoretical understanding nonetheless surpassed that of many ordinary pill masters from small places.

This was the weight of a great sect’s inheritance in Qianxue Province.

Thus, although Mo Hua was not a true pill master, he could still understand much of Old Master Feng’s pill theory.

As he listened, admiration welled up in his heart.

Old Master Feng’s pill path was not particularly lofty, but it was accessible and extremely practical.

Many prescriptions matched the spiritual roots and meridian traits of local cultivators.

The herbs required were inexpensive grasses, chosen to fit local conditions and minimize the cost for loose cultivators to take medicine and be healed.

This was knowledge truly applied, a pill path that could save the common cultivator.

Mo Hua felt he had gained insight.

Old Master Feng remained wholly focused, but as he spoke he suddenly glanced aside and caught sight of Mo Hua listening intently. He started, then waved to his disciples. “That’s it for today. Dismissed for now.”

“Yes, Master.”

The disciples bowed with respect and filed out.

The hall fell quiet in an instant.

Only then did Mo Hua step forward, cupping his hands with a sincere bow. “Grandpa Feng, I came to see you.”

Old Master Feng looked him over from head to toe. His eyes brightened; a deeply gratified smile surfaced as he nodded.

“Good…”

He looked a moment longer and nodded again. “Very good!”

Mo Hua smiled.

The two sat at the tea table, drinking together.

“Late-stage Foundation Establishment?” Old Master Feng asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He said “good” once more, pondered a moment, and then asked, “Have you taken in the sights of a fifth-rank great province?”

Mo Hua nodded. “Return-to-Void experts hold the line. Feathering and ascending is possible. Golden Cores everywhere. The sect inheritances are ancient. Noble scions gather like clouds. The bells ring and cauldrons sing—prosperity to the utmost…”

Old Master Feng’s expression turned a bit wistful. For a long while he said nothing, then sighed quietly: “Pavilions of noble clans, bells ringing and cauldrons singing… yet throughout this world, loose cultivators have nowhere to set a foot, not even enough for three meals a day…”

Life in Immortal-Passage City had, it was true, improved.

But counted carefully, that improvement had been only ten-odd years.

Outside of Immortal-Passage City—look out upon the world—everywhere was scabbed with wounds, unchanged in the slightest.

Prosperity could not hide decline.

Mo Hua’s eyes sank a shade.

Old Master Feng glanced at him, sighed softly, and said with comfort: “You’ve grown up. You understand many things now.”

“I am but a first-rank pill master. Saving the injured and sick of one city is already my limit. But you… are different…”

He didn’t spell it out, but his gaze was warm and held a deep, earnest expectation.

Mo Hua seemed to ponder, then rose and bowed deeply to Old Master Feng. “Grandpa Feng, Mo Hua will remember.”

…

After tea and a brief chat, Mo Hua took his leave.

Back home, he kept turning over Old Master Feng’s words, thinking of what the elder had spent his life doing—his heart and the devotion of his lifetime—and was deeply moved.

Though only first-rank, Old Master Feng had immeasurable merit and had done what many cultivators could not.

A person’s “realm” is not always decided by cultivation.

In the days that followed, Mo Hua calmed his heart and quietly considered some questions.

He declined all outside visits.

But this day, Elder Yu came in person and handed Mo Hua an invitation.

Mo Hua opened it and was a bit surprised. “Gray Wolf Sect?”

Elder Yu nodded, his voice grave. “The Gray Wolf Sect’s sect master wishes to visit in person. This… isn’t easy to refuse.”

The Gray Wolf Sect lay south of Immortal-Passage City, near the Greedy Wolf Mountain Range. It was a third-rank sect and the closest third-rank sect to Immortal-Passage City.

That “close” was only relative.

Gray Wolf Sect and Immortal-Passage City were separated by several hundred li, with the vast ranges of Black Mountain and Greedy Wolf Mountain lying between—terrain tangled and roads perilous. In the past, there had been almost no contact.

Who would have thought the Gray Wolf Sect’s sect master would personally come to Immortal-Passage City this time, specifically to visit Mo Hua? What was his intent…

Elder Yu couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

But a third-rank sect, a Golden Core realm sect master—he, a mere elder of a second-rank immortal city at Foundation Establishment, had no way to refuse.

Mo Hua was calm. “It’s fine. Let him come.”

Elder Yu looked at him, then nodded. “All right.”

What had to come would come. A “strong dragon” crossing into another’s turf could not be avoided; worry was useless.

He only hoped the visitor was not truly “here with ill intentions”…

…

Three days later, a group of cultivators in wolf-fur robes, dressed oddly and exuding a rough, overbearing air, entered Immortal-Passage City.

They had come for Mo Hua.

The sides met in a private room at Fushan Restaurant.

Only Elder Yu accompanied Mo Hua, though another seven or eight Foundation Establishment cultivators were drinking in separate rooms throughout the restaurant.

This was Elder Yu’s arrangement, fearing the visitors “came with ill intent.”

In his heart he knew that these seven or eight Foundation cultivators were unlikely to be a match for an entourage led by a third-rank Gray Wolf Sect Golden Core sect master. But measures for the worst case still had to be in place.

Elder Yu was truly worried for Mo Hua.

Mo Hua might be at late-stage Foundation Establishment, but he was still very young—fresh out of the sect—and his experience in real combat and spell duels was surely lacking. If it really came to blows, he would likely suffer.

As the demon-hunter elder, he could not allow this “formation prodigy,” this “hope of Immortal-Passage City,” to come to even the slightest harm. Otherwise, his guilt would be beyond redemption.

They old bones could fight and, if need be, die. Mo Hua could not. He had a bright future ahead.

Of course, Immortal-Passage City had a Dao Court Office and was under the Dao laws’ jurisdiction; the Gray Wolf Sect would hardly be so deranged as to do anything out of bounds.

These were all “just in case”—a last line of defense should the worst occur.

This was the utmost Elder Yu could do.

He and Mo Hua waited in the private room.

Soon, footsteps sounded. Several Gray Wolf Sect cultivators in wolf robes entered, surrounding a middle-aged man with sharp, predatory eyes.

This man wore a wolfskin mantle. A vicious wolf head was embroidered on his yellow robe. His blood and qi surged; his features were stern and intimidating without anger. One glance and it was clear—he was long accustomed to command.

He was the current sect master of the third-rank Gray Wolf Sect.

Feeling his presence and pressure, Elder Yu’s pupils constricted.

“A Golden Core cultivator…”

This was his first time in life seeing a Golden Core grand cultivator.

If not for Mo Hua, a third-rank Golden Core would scarcely appear in a second-rank city like Immortal-Passage.

Golden Cores were already figures out of “legend.”

Elder Yu swiftly realized he had misjudged the strength of high-level cultivators.

Before, hearing Mo Hua speak of Return to Void tearing through the sky, Feathering and flying to the heavens, Golden Cores everywhere—he had subconsciously glossed over just how powerful those “everywhere” Golden Cores really were.

But standing before one in person, he suddenly felt the Golden Core’s might—how it pressed so heavily.

Elder Yu’s heart sank to the bottom.

If this Golden Core moved to strike, he truly could slaughter their seven or eight Foundation cultivators to the last.

He would be unable to keep Mo Hua safe.

Elder Yu’s heart grew heavy.

The Gray Wolf Sect’s sect master strode into the hall. His divine sense swept once, taking in Elder Yu’s arrangements, and he sneered inwardly.

He glanced at Elder Yu and gave the slightest nod, but his face was indifferent. Clearly, he didn’t put an early-stage Foundation cultivator like Elder Yu in his eyes.

Then his gaze shifted to Mo Hua beside Elder Yu.

The sect master paused.

His first impression was: young!

Very young!

The fair face still held a trace of a boy’s clarity and simplicity.

That proved this youth was truly very young, yet had advanced rapidly in cultivation.

He did look like a disciple of a great sect.

The sect master frowned slightly, weighing things in his heart:

“But his spiritual roots seem far too poor. His cultivation looks slapdash—he has the realm but his spiritual power is shallow, and his body is very weak…”

“With this kind of aptitude, could he really have entered a great sect? Did he use some back door?”

“Or… did he just gild his face, boast and bluff, fabricate a great-sect background to seek fame and profit?”

His expression tightened, wolfish light in his eyes as he stared at Mo Hua.

He wanted to see what foundation Mo Hua truly had.

Mo Hua only lifted his eyes a fraction and gave the sect master a faint look, deep as a well.

In that instant, a phantom of corpse mountains and blood seas—soaring slaughter—aweful baleful qi flickered from the depths of his gaze and was gone.

The sect master’s heart lurched; a chill pierced his marrow.

“What was that?!”

His face went a shade pale. Looking again, everything terrifying had vanished.

Only Mo Hua stood there, quiet as deep water, steady as a lofty mountain.

Lingering fear prickled the sect master’s skin; after a moment, he frowned.

This boy… was a little uncanny…

But whatever else, that composure was indeed that of a great-sect disciple.

It was the bearing of one accustomed to high personages and grand occasions.

A disciple of a great sect could not be slighted…

He stepped forward, aura imposing, yet he cupped his hands first. “I am the sect master of the Gray Wolf Sect.”

Mo Hua returned the bow. “Mo Hua, disciple of the Great Void Sect.”

Elder Yu, who had been braced as if facing a great enemy, was taken aback by what he saw.

Just now… the Golden Core sect master of the Gray Wolf Sect had bowed first to Mo Hua, a Foundation cultivator? Mo Hua’s standing was actually that high…

“Sect Master, please.”

“Brother Mo, please.”

Elder Yu snapped back to his senses and had the servers bring dishes.

They sat, drank, and traded pleasantries. The atmosphere eased.

After a few cups, the sect master reined in his rough edge and chatted with Elder Yu, probing here and there about the recent state of Immortal-Passage City.

Elder Yu’s cultivation wasn’t high, but he was a seasoned hand at dealing with people. He answered earnestly yet vaguely—saying plenty while saying nothing.

Mo Hua just ate quietly.

After a while, the mood grew heavy again.

The sect master glanced at a few of his disciples and ordered, “Go and fetch the gift I brought for Brother Mo.”

“Yes, Sect Master.”

Those disciples rose and left, and a long time passed without their return.

Mo Hua blinked, realizing the sect master meant to send others away on purpose.

Elder Yu frowned.

Mo Hua considered, then looked at Elder Yu.

Elder Yu understood. He felt uneasy, but Mo Hua shook his head slightly, signaling he was fine.

Only then did Elder Yu nod.

“The restaurant has some fine wine, cellared for a hundred years. I’ll go fetch it.”

The sect master cupped his hands. “Much obliged.”

Elder Yu left. The room grew even quieter with only Mo Hua and the sect master inside.

Mo Hua drank his wine, unruffled.

After a brief hesitation, the sect master spoke plainly:

“No point mincing words. Brother Mo, would you be willing to join my Gray Wolf Sect?”

Mo Hua was a bit surprised and answered slowly, “I am a disciple of the Great Void Sect.”

“No matter,” the sect master said. “My Gray Wolf Sect is not a sect focused on passing down the Dao. The sect runs enterprises. Those who join us do so to earn spirit stones or to seek prospects.”

“Joining and leaving are both free. There is no coercion.”

“As long as Brother Mo is willing to work for the Gray Wolf Sect, do solid things for us—expand our ventures and earn profit—then whatever you want, we will do our utmost to provide.”

“If later it doesn’t suit you, you may come and go as you please. There won’t be heavy constraints…”

Mo Hua inclined his head slightly. He more or less understood.

Somewhere, the Gray Wolf Sect must have heard that he was a graduate of a “great sect” from Qianxue, and so the sect master had come in person to recruit him to serve the Gray Wolf Sect.

After all, in the second-rank lands around Immortal-Passage City, and even the third-rank provinces near the Gray Wolf Sect, disciples truly educated at a top level—with the deep foundations of a “great sect”—were exceedingly rare.

“Like phoenix feathers and qilin horns,” as the saying went.

Mo Hua pondered a moment and did not refuse outright. Instead he said, “I’ll think about it.”

The sect master looked at him and softened his tone: “Brother Mo, forgive my bluntness—but do you intend… to stay in Immortal-Passage City long-term?”

Mo Hua’s expression shifted slightly. “And if I do?”

The sect master’s smile held something unreadable. He shook his head and sighed lightly:

“What I’m about to say may sound harsh, but it’s the truth…”

“You were able to enter a great sect—whether because…” He paused, feeling it unlikely, but continued anyway:

“Whether because of your spiritual roots, or some other aptitude, connections, talent—or sheer luck—it was a stroke of fortune countless cultivators dream of but rarely obtain…”

“In other words, once you enter a great sect, you have already ‘leapt the dragon gate’ and overturned your fate.”

“In that case, to keep mixing with these poor loose cultivators has no future…”

He shook his head again. “Their understanding of cultivation is far too shallow. Their spiritual roots and inheritance are too poor. Their hearts have flaws, and their conduct can hardly be lofty…”

“Staying among them is like falling into a mud pit—you’ll only sink endlessly into poverty and hardship, delaying your own cultivation.”

“Things gather with their kind; people sort by level. You and they are no longer of the same tier.”

“You should pull free of this mud and keep climbing higher…”

Thanks for reading—this chapter had some quiet, thoughtful beats I really enjoyed rendering into English. If you’re vibing with Mo Hua’s journey, I’d be incredibly grateful if you’d support me on Patreon; even a small pledge helps me keep translating faster and with more love. And if you have a moment, please drop a rating or review on NovelUpdates—it seriously helps new readers discover the story.

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