The Quest for Immortality - Chapter 1115 (Patreon)

Chapter 1115: The Killing Precept

Still, the things that could truly feed the fiends inside him were definitely not common fare. Finding them would be a headache.

Mo Hua suddenly felt a twinge of nostalgia for the Qianxue State domain.

Back then, Mr. Tu was still alive, the Great Wilderness Wicked God had yet to awaken, the blood-sacrifice grand array had not opened, and there were altars everywhere.

Every altar was enough for him to gorge once. At that time, even if he ate his way to twenty-four patterns, it would likely have been more than enough.

Now the Divine Embryo had been seized, Mr. Tu was dead, the grand array had collapsed. Though the crisis was resolved, the altars were all gone.

No wonder the ancients said to do things in a trickle, not to kill the chicken for its eggs.

And the “egg” taken by killing the chicken had been snatched by that stingy Pixiu, leaving him barely a mouthful to eat.

Mo Hua let out a faint sigh.

Now that he had left Qianxue, where could he find a place that let his divine sense “feast” and supplement itself in bulk?

After all, that had been Mr. Tu’s nest egg, painstakingly run for hundreds, even thousands of years.

Mo Hua sighed for a moment, then tidied his thoughts and continued on his way.

“The road is long. Who knows what lies ahead? I’ll just see as I go…”

Following his set heading, Mo Hua continued south.

His figure flowed like water, his steps swift. After nearly half a month of travel, he finally left the Great Black Mountain State.

The surrounding peaks grew shorter, demonic aura thinned, and the land looked even more desolate, lacking that deep, eerie chill of Great Black Mountain.

This was another second-grade minor state abutting Great Black Mountain, named the Little Border Settlements State.

The two characters “jie ji” weren’t really a proper name so much as a description: cultivators amassed at the edges of state domains.

It meant there hadn’t been a formed state here with proper cities. Cultivators gathered along the fringes of neighboring states, so people lumped it together as “border settlements” and called it that.

Only, the instant Mo Hua stepped out of Great Black Mountain and onto the Little Border Settlements State, a baleful glint rose in his eyes.

Killing intent surged again.

Mo Hua’s brows knit tight; annoyance pricked at his heart.

“The baleful qi is backlashing again?”

Was it because he had left Great Black Mountain and no longer had merit to shelter him, so his fate pattern tilted out of balance again? Or was it because he was far from “home,” with his humanity unmoored, that his murderousness grew heavier? Helpless, Mo Hua could only forcibly suppress the killing urge and steady his mind.

At the same time, he mimicked the cultivation method of the Seven Souls Eye Technique, carving his home and his parents into his soul as the anchor of his humanity, using that to resist the backlash of baleful qi upon his mind.

Even so, a heaviness settled over him.

The influence of the fatal baleful star was worse than he had expected.

If he didn’t find a way to curb or resolve it soon, he truly didn’t know what he would become…

Mo Hua shook his head. When the baleful qi calmed, he set out again, cutting across the Little Border Settlements State.

For dozens of miles, it was all barren hills and wasteland, shabby hamlets.

The Little Border Settlements State was poor, and state-domain cities within it were few and far between.

Most itinerant cultivators clustered in mountain hamlets or flatland villages.

All along the way, what Mo Hua saw were poor itinerants.

Painfully poor—poorer than he had imagined.

Sallow cheeks, fearful eyes, rags that barely covered their bodies, bellies that never filled. Even the children passing by were little more than skin and bone.

Mo Hua was used to Qianxue’s towering clans and clanging prosperity.

He had seen Immortal-Passage City—people united, spirits rising, a thriving scene.

Now, seeing these skin-and-bones cultivators with his own eyes, his heart was struck by a powerful sense of unreality.

Pity there was no market here, no shops ahead or behind.

Desolation on every side: no spiritual farmland tilled, no herbs to refine pills, no ores to refine artifacts, not even many demonic beasts…

Truly stripped bare. Even Mo Hua didn’t know how to help them.

Heavy-hearted, he walked on. Half a day later, after passing five or six mountain hamlets much the same as the rest, he came to a fork.

Before him, hills veiled the view and scrub was sparse. From the craggy ridge split three narrow mountain paths that wound toward the distance.

Mo Hua couldn’t tell which to take.

His divine sense was strong, but even a Golden Core divine sense had limits—he couldn’t blanket an entire mountain range.

So he went to ask for directions.

On the left side of the fork was a small mountain village.

Mo Hua entered the village. Though travel-stained in a gray robe, his clear eyes and jade-like features left the itinerants stunned, staring for a long time.

Mo Hua cupped his hands. “Forgive the intrusion. I came to ask for a cup of water and directions.”

No one dared answer.

Two children ran toward the back of the village.

A moment later, a gaunt elder leaning on a cane came out from behind the village, tottering as he bowed to Mo Hua and said:

“Little young master, forgive us for greeting you so late. This way, please.”

Mo Hua nodded and followed the elder into a simple thatched hut nearby.

Pointing at an old porcelain cup on the table, the elder rasped, “Wild tea from the hills. I hope young master won’t mind.”

Mo Hua glanced at it—wild mountain tea. He took a sip. Bitter—the astringency spread to his tongue’s root.

“From whence does young master come, and whither goes he?” the elder asked.

Mo Hua said, “I come from Immortal-Passage City and head for the Great Wilderness south of Li State.”

The elder started. “Immortal-Passage City is separated from here by Great Black Mountain, where the beasts are terrifying. And from here to the southern Great Wilderness is ten thousand li away, danger after danger… Young master, you’re traveling alone?”

Mo Hua nodded. “I travel to see the world and seek the Dao.”

The elder grew solemn. “Is there anything an old man like me can help you with?”

Mo Hua asked, “Ahead the paths divide. Where do they lead?”

The elder sighed. “Shameful to say—this old man has lived a hundred and fifty years, yet trapped in these hills has never gone far. I don’t truly know where the three paths lead. I have only heard the occasional traders speak in passing…”

He pointed with a gnarled hand. “The left path goes to Southern Peak. Keep on and you’ll reach the Great Li Mountain State…”

“The middle path leads to the only third-grade state in these parts, the Azure Wolf State…”

“The right path is a barren road—eight hundred li of wild hills, no sign of humanity. Few take it…”

“This is all what I’ve heard. But the traders all say the same—I suppose it can’t be wrong.”

Mo Hua cupped his hands. “Many thanks, elder.”

Now that he had directions, he didn’t wish to linger and rose to take his leave.

The elder sighed, embarrassed. “By rights, since young master has come from afar, we should do our duty as hosts and treat you to a simple meal. But alas…”

A bitter look crossed his face. “Alas, the countryside is too poor. There’s nothing to eat—only some bitter wild things to stave off hunger. If we served those, I fear we’d make you laugh.”

These rustic cultivators were poor, but their hearts were simple.

Mo Hua cupped his hands with a smile. “Please don’t mind it, elder. The road is long and the day is short; I should be on my way and not trouble you further.”

When Mo Hua left the hut, the elder tottered out to see him off.

At the village gate, a few villagers were setting stakes and a bramble fence thick with thorns to guard the outer rim of the hamlet.

Mo Hua asked, “These brambles are to ward off demonic beasts?”

The elder nodded. “To keep off little cat and dog demons that snatch children—and to keep off the mountain bandits.”

“Bandits?”

“Mhm. Those fiends who rob and plunder. They come to steal. If there’s nothing to steal, they take children and women.”

Hatred laced the elder’s voice. Then his look changed. He said to Mo Hua: “If you take the left or right roads, it’s fine. But if you go by the middle road, beware the bandits along the way. They are not good people…”

Mo Hua nodded. “I understand.”

He looked at the fence and thorns at the village mouth, then at the crowd of thin, pitiful children. Soft-hearted, he lifted a finger and traced ink through the air. In an instant, he sketched several array diagrams on the ground.

Earth and rocks heaved, brambles snaked, and the two sides of the village gate were sealed tight, forming a sturdy barrier.

Earth-Wood Gen Mountain Array.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

A light point of the finger—arrays unfolded, barriers rose. To the Qi-Refining villagers, it was like a “miracle.”

The elder trembled and stammered, “You… this is…”

Mo Hua said softly, “I drank a cup of your tea. I have nothing to repay you with, so I drew you some arrays.”

“Arrays!” The elder could hardly believe it. “Young master… you’re an Array Master?”

Mo Hua nodded.

The elder blurted, “Remarkable. Remarkable!”

In small places, Array Masters stood a head above the rest. In these backwoods, with fragmented inheritance, any cultivator who knew a trick or two of arrays was revered.

“Hurry, hurry…” the elder said. “Call everyone to thank this Array Master, my lord.”

In short order the entire village gathered, a dark mass bowing to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua hastily returned the salute. “No need for ceremony.”

He saw some children were truly starving and took out a few bottles of Fasting Pills for them. Then he ceased to delay and prepared to leave.

Seeing the direction he was headed, the elder called out, “Young master, young master, are you taking the middle road?”

Mo Hua nodded.

The elder urged bitterly, “There are bandits on the middle road—cunning and vicious. You are an Array Master, a body worth a thousand gold. Alone, you mustn’t take risks.”

Mo Hua smiled mildly. “It’s fine.”

The elder could not dissuade him. He could only watch as Mo Hua followed the middle path into the dense woods and disappeared, sighing again and again.

A middle-aged man in coarse cloth watched Mo Hua’s back with a frown and said to the elder, “Elder, that young master doesn’t seem… quite right…”

The elder blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I keep feeling,” the man hesitated, “that he… doesn’t look like a person…”

The elder scowled. “What nonsense!”

The man glanced around and lowered his voice: “Really, elder. You’ve lived long and seen many travelers. When have you seen a youth like that? Features like white jade, skin so pale it seems to glow—he doesn’t look like an ordinary man.”

“And these mountains are perilous, demonic beasts everywhere—what kind of normal youth dares travel alone?”

“And when he drew the arrays—did you see it? He stretched out a hand and tapped the air, and the arrays appeared. I may be ignorant, but I know ordinary Array Masters don’t draw arrays like that. I fear this youth truly… isn’t ‘human’…”

The elder froze, his brows knotting tight.

Put that way, it did seem to make sense.

If not a person, then what…

He recalled Mo Hua’s looks—hair black as ink, skin white as jade, eyes black and white as if washed—truly the bearing of an immortal…

A thought struck him. He shuddered and said, “Do you remember the legend across from Great Black Mountain?”

The man paused. “You mean…”

The elder nodded. “They say opposite Great Black Mountain there is a Immortal-Passage City, and in it an Immortal Child—surname Mo, given name Hua. Gifted from birth, his arrays are uncanny. As a child he set a grand array and slew a grand demon.”

“The youth just now—eyes like ink, face like a painting. Could he be… that Immortal Child?”

The man said, “But… wasn’t it said he’s an ‘immortal child’? Why did he look like a youth?”

“Immortal children do grow up.”

The man bobbed his head. “True. But… isn’t the Immortal Child in Great Black Mountain? Why would he come to our poor place?”

“This…” The elder pondered, then suddenly started, heart shaking as he said: “The Immortal Child must have achieved progress in his cultivation, so he left Great Black Mountain to journey under heaven and bestow blessings upon the common folk…”

The more he thought, the more excited he grew, his voice trembling: “I heard Immortal-Passage City used to be poor and hard-pressed. But with arrays drawn by the Immortal Child, it’s grown more prosperous year by year.”

“Now the Immortal Child has passed through our place and drawn arrays for us.”

“That means our days will only get better and better…”

At that thought, the elder said, “Quick, kneel and pray to the Immortal Child. Ask for his blessing.”

Some in the village believed, some were bewildered; but since the elder had spoken, they all knelt in a dark mass and sincerely said: “May the Immortal Child live long…”

“Please bless us, Immortal Child…”

…

In the remote mountains and forests.

Mo Hua, walking alone, suddenly felt a simple, faint current of wish-power merge into his fate pattern, dissolving his baleful qi from killing karma to a degree.

He started slightly and looked back toward the village he had come from, touched.

“Could this be… merit and vow-power?”

Pity this place was simply too poor. As for cultivation resources, they had none of it…

As the saying goes: eat from the mountain by the mountain, from the water by the water.

But the mountains these itinerants had settled for generations were barren, unable to nourish them at all.

Even the cleverest woman cannot cook without rice. Mo Hua truly had no way.

If they were to migrate, demonic beasts lurked on every side—they would most likely die halfway.

“Then the only way is… to cut a new road from Immortal-Passage City, straight across Great Black Mountain, forcing open a highway to here?”

Mo Hua’s eyes turned thoughtful.

For the rest of the way, he pondered this matter.

After half an hour, the sides narrowed; the mountains pulled in.

Two li ahead, the terrain changed—sheer cliffs rose on both sides, and only a narrow mountain track lay before him.

Mo Hua halted before the track, neither entering nor retreating.

Silence lay everywhere. After a full stick of incense, shrubs on either side rustled, and a band of cultivators emerged—ten or so in all.

“Big brother, did this brat notice us?”

Someone spoke softly—so soft, yet it still fell into Mo Hua’s ears.

A moment later, a yellow-clad burly man—“big brother”—strode out. He carefully sized Mo Hua up, frowned, then sighed: “Little brother, I don’t want to make it hard on you. But the hills are poor; we can’t fill the pot. Leave some toll money and we’ll let you pass. We’ll keep to our own wells and not foul your river.”

It was reasonable enough.

Mo Hua thought, then nodded and tossed over twenty spirit stones.

The yellow-clad man stared, stunned, glancing at the others in disbelief.

“The toll is paid,” Mo Hua said. “Let me pass.”

The yellow-clad man hesitated.

A bandit at his side covered his mouth and whispered:

“Big brother, by the rules—if the traveler looks like a soft persimmon, we kill and rob;”

“If he seems well-born, we sell misery, say some sweet words, and beg a few spirit stones.”

“But this kid—he flicked out twenty stones just like that. He must be loaded. He’s a ‘fat sheep.’ Should we… take a gamble?”

The yellow-clad man frowned, eyes flickering as he weighed it. After a moment, he nodded slightly.

Another burly bandit with a guileless face sighed and said to Mo Hua:

“Little brother, that’s not enough. Not to hide it—I’ve got old folks above and little ones below. Split this, and it’s not enough for my boy to eat and cultivate.”

“Could you give a bit more?”

Mo Hua mused. “That’s fair…” He flicked over another twenty spirit stones.

Now every pair of bandit eyes lit up.

Greed and cruelty flashed in the yellow-clad man’s gaze.

“Is it enough now?” Mo Hua asked.

The yellow-clad man shook his head and sighed. “Still not enough… I’ve got an old mother above and wife and children below. The burden is heavy. Little brother, why don’t you give a bit more?”

Mo Hua fell silent.

The yellow-clad man sneered.

After a moment, Mo Hua shook his head. “You lied.”

The man’s mouth twisted. “What lie?”

Mo Hua said, “I know a little Karmic Manipulation and can read a bit of fate. Your face shows meanness—no old above, no young below. So you lied.”

The man froze, then grinned savagely. “Give me more spirit stones so I can marry and have children.”

Mo Hua still shook his head. “Your face portends ‘cut-off line.’ No wife, no son, in this life.”

The man’s face darkened. “You little beast—slick tongue.”

Mo Hua’s pupils deepened to ink.

The man rambled on, oblivious:

“Together! Take his storage bag, flay him, strip his tendons…”

The ten or so bandits surged at Mo Hua, excited.

“Haven’t had a fat sheep in ages…”

“Bad luck for him…”

“I’ve got to make more spirit stones for my son, so he can cultivate and take over my trade…”

“No choice—in this birds-don’t-shit place, all we can do is rob and kill to live…”

In mere breaths, they had Mo Hua surrounded.

Mo Hua did not move.

“Is the kid scared stupid?” one bandit jeered, then yelled, “First merit is mine—hands off, you lot…”

“Like hell!”

“I haven’t had meat in ages…”

Three or four bandits raised axes, scrambling to hack at Mo Hua’s head.

In the next instant—no more than the time to blink—dark-red fire flared.

Those three or four bandits—clothes, skin, flesh, bone, the whole person—melted to nothing.

Smirks froze on the others’ faces, replaced in a heartbeat by naked terror.

“Shit!”

“What is he!”

The yellow-clad leader was drenched in cold sweat, face white as paper.

He didn’t think—he threw away his comrades and bolted, mind screaming: “Fuck this! Fuck this! Running into a ghost in broad daylight—we’ve hit a goddamn iron plate!”

He ran for his life, mustering every ounce of strength, pushing his clumsy footwork to the limit.

He’d barely gone a few steps when warmth bloomed in his chest—hot, even. He looked down and his guts turned to water.

A fireball had punched through his chest at some point.

Blood had been scorched dry, leaving a black hole.

Terror glazed his eyes. He stumbled a few paces and pitched forward, dead.

The remaining seven or eight bandits were each roasted by a single fireball—or one fireball for two—until none remained.

Only the guileless-faced bandit was left, collapsed, a dark wet patch spreading at his crotch as he babbled for mercy: “Little brother—no, lord—ancestor—spare me, spare me… I really have a child to feed…”

Mo Hua looked at him, expressionless. “Raise him so he can take your place and keep robbing people?”

The bandit’s face went bloodless.

Mo Hua said mildly, “Like father, like son. That’s fate. Today I’ll kill the father to change the son’s fate once.”

The bandit screamed, soul flying, struggling to flee. But his legs were jelly.

A few breaths later, a deep-red fireball fell. With a boom, it burned his flesh to nothing.

Thus the dozen or so bandits were all incinerated by Mo Hua. Little of their corpses or limbs remained.

Silence pressed on the narrow track.

Mo Hua’s face was cold, baleful qi surging in his eyes like a god of slaughter.

After a moment, the grayish baleful qi in his gaze ebbed. His pupils tightened, and he came back to himself.

He looked at the dead bandits around him, then at his own pale hands, dazed, frowning:

“How did I… fail to hold back…”

He could have spared them. He hadn’t truly meant to kill.

He could have gone by unseen, or used a spell to bind them, even crippled their hands and feet.

But the moment he saw their greed and heard their crimes, the killing urge inside him surged beyond control.

So much so that he used the Fireball Technique to personally burn a dozen bandits to ash—only then did he wake.

And after actually killing, Mo Hua felt no problem at all—no flare of baleful qi. On the contrary, his thoughts flowed freely and his heart felt unblocked.

But Mo Hua knew—that was the real problem.

If he forcibly suppressed the killing urge and did not strike, the baleful qi would backlash, disturbing his mind and making him irritable and agitated.

If he really killed, venting the urge, then on the surface his thoughts would clear; but the guilt of slaughter would turn to karmic burden and sink into his fate.

Killing intent would also soak into his temperament, engraving itself on his soul.

Over time, his murderousness would only grow—until it was beyond control: addicted to killing, killing at random, drawing the sword at a word.

That absolutely could not happen…

Mo Hua frowned and warned himself in the depths of his heart: “Don’t kill. Don’t kill. By all means, do not kill again…”

“I, Mo Hua, will never again break the killing precept…”

6.2k characters. Happy Children’s Day, everyone~ By the way, I’m begging for a few votes. (.) I won’t ask on other holidays, but Children’s Day has to be celebrated, so please toss me a few monthly votes~ I’ll work hard on updates this month. (.) Lastly, a recommendation for a great sci-fi novel. If you’re interested, have a look.

“Did We Destroy the World Today?”

“So you’re saying the end of the world is coming, so you’re going to hijack a rocket?”

“Funny. I’ve arrested people who robbed gold shops, arrested people who robbed banks, even arrested someone who robbed a train. I’ve just never arrested anyone for hijacking a rocket.”

“How do you plan to do that? Even if you really took the rocket, could you fly it?”

Across the table, Lin Xu nodded slowly.

“I can.”

“Really. I’ve flown them countless times.”

“And you really need to hurry. I’m out of time.”

“Out of time?”

The man chuckled.

“You that busy?”

“Very busy.”

Lin Xu nodded.

“I have to go destroy the next world.”

Thanks for reading—this chapter had some heavy vibes, huh? If you’re enjoying the ride, please consider supporting me on Patreon; even a small pledge keeps the translations coming and means the world to me. Also, if you have a moment, dropping a rating or review on NovelUpdates really helps more readers find this series.

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