The Quest for Immortality

”Who the hell would ever want to stay in that godforsaken place?” Fan Jin waved his hand dismissively, a clear look of distaste on his face.

But Mo Hua’s eyes grew deeper as he caught a subtle shift in Fan Jin’s expression.

His face said disdain, but deep within his eyes, there was something else—wariness, maybe even a trace of... deep-seated fear.

Fear...

What was he afraid of?

What was there in Solitary Mountain City to be so scared of?

Mo Hua squinted, his gaze sharpening.

Fan Jin, however, had no interest in mentioning ”Solitary Mountain City” again. Instead, he quickly changed the topic, looking toward Mo Hua with a worried expression:

”Kid, since I’ve been around the block, let me give you a piece of advice. If you think it’s worthwhile, take it to heart. If not, just pretend... just figure I’m talking nonsense.”

”Master Fan, please go ahead,” Mo Hua nodded in response.

Fan Jin spoke from the heart,

”You’re at Foundation Establishment Late Stage. Next step is Core Formation. When it comes to your own Magic Treasure... you’ve got to choose carefully. Even if your Sect doesn’t value you, even if you’ve got no family backing, you can’t treat this lightly.”

Originally, he’d wanted to use Mo Hua as a bridge to cozy up to Elders from his Sect, but Fan Jin was a warmhearted guy—after talking with Mo Hua for a bit, he’d actually forgotten all about his original plans and began offering sincere advice instead.

Not that Mo Hua really needed advice like this anymore.

Seeing Mo Hua’s calm and indifferent look, Fan Jin assumed he was being ignored and got a bit anxious:

”Seriously, kid, I’ve been where you are, I wouldn’t lie to you. I totally screwed myself over—just thought if I could form my core, I’d be set. Figured I could skimp on the Magic Treasure and just use whatever would do the trick. Now I’m in Core Formation, but my Magic Treasure’s holding me back everywhere I go...”

Mo Hua asked curiously, ”Master Fan, what is your Magic Treasure?”

”A hammer.”

”Your own Magic Treasure is a hammer?”

”Yep.”

Fan Jin looked as if he’d swallowed a bitter pill, but couldn’t spit it out.

”So when it comes to choosing your own Magic Treasure, you can’t be too careful. You’ve absolutely got to pick the right one. No shortcuts.”

Mo Hua nodded slowly.

He’d been considering the issue of Magic Treasures for quite some time, so honestly, it didn’t matter much what Master Fan had to say. What he truly cared about was what had happened in Solitary Mountain City.

Mo Hua wanted to know—what exactly had happened in Solitary Mountain City that made this Golden Core Steward so scared?

But before he could ask, Elder Xun Zixian called out to him:

”Mo Hua, come have some tea.”

”Oh, sure,” Mo Hua quickly replied.

Fan Jin turned toward the voice and saw, to his shock, that the one calling Mo Hua over was none other than a Taixu Sect Elder: sword brows, star-bright eyes, the bearing and looks of a truly extraordinary Late Golden Core Stage Elder. Fan Jin’s heart jumped in his chest. ℞ÁꞐ𝔬ВΕ𝙎

An Eight Great Gates Late Golden Core Stage True Transmission Elder—compare that to a small-timer like him, just an Initial Golden Core Steward. The gap between them was truly massive, like heaven and earth.

Fan Jin kind of wanted to thick-face his way over and network, but the difference in status was just too intimidating.

He basically had no confidence even speaking up.

Just then, a Taoist Court Enforcement Leader approached him. ”Master Fan, Supervisor Gu needs you. The operation’s about to start.”

Fan Jin nodded, ”Got it.” Then he cupped his fists toward Mo Hua, ”Fate brought us together today. I won’t disturb you further, little brother. If we get the chance, let’s chat again some time.”

Mo Hua clasped his hands in return. ”Demon Cultivators are vicious, Master Fan, be careful.”

”Thanks for the heads up, little brother.”

Fan Jin said his piece and turned to leave, though he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed inside. Damn, what a chance—if only he’d lingered a little longer, maybe chatted a bit more, he might actually have managed to connect with one of those Taixu ”big shots.”

”Such a shame...”

Fan Jin walked a few steps, but couldn’t resist turning around for another look.

Right then, Elder Xun Zixian had Mo Hua sit down, poured him a cup of tea, and said kindly, ”A Taoist Friend gave me this—it’s called Snow Clear. Give it a try.”

The tea leaves were white as snow, the tea itself was crystal clear, its fragrance fresh and mellow.

Mo Hua lifted the cup, took a sip, and squinted with a soft laugh, ”Thank you, Elder Zixian!”

Fan Jin saw the whole scene and felt his brain buzz like it had exploded.

No way...

This can’t be right.

Isn’t it always the Disciple pouring tea for the Elder? Since when do Elders pour tea for the Disciple?

Just what kind of customs does the Taixu Sect have?

And not just any Elder, but one who was obviously of extremely high status and profound knowledge—a Late Golden Core Stage Elder at that.

This kind of great cultivator—even saying ”hello” would’ve made Fan Jin nervous as hell, but here he was, pouring tea for this little brother with his own hands...

Fan Jin just stood there, dumbfounded, muttering to himself:

”Just who the hell is this little brother...?”

Then suddenly, he remembered: that Elder had called out this little brother’s name earlier—

Mo Hua.

”Mo Hua...”

Fan Jin frowned, the name ringing all kinds of bells in his mind. Where had he heard it before? He thought about it for a second before his eyes went wide and he sucked in a cold breath.

”No way... could this be... that legendary ’Mo Hua’...?”

”The... the ’little monster’ from Taixu Sect?”

...

An hour later, everything was ready—the war to wipe out the Demon Sect was officially underway.

But none of that had anything to do with Mo Hua.

Elder Xun Zixian was keeping Mo Hua company at Ancestor Xun’s orders—partly to keep an eye on Mo Hua and make sure he didn’t run off looking for trouble, partly to protect him so he wouldn’t come to any harm.

So Mo Hua just sat there drinking tea, doing as he was told, while his gaze swept toward the Demon Sect’s lair, quietly observing how things developed.

Taoist Court cultivators, Taixu Sect Elders, and Disciples followed the prescribed route, moving like a hidden tide, converging on the Demon Sect stronghold. They wove an invisible net, completely trapping the Demon Sect’s base within its threads.

The storm was gathering, battle just moments away.

The miasma-covered Yanluo Mountain grew more and more deathly silent.

Suddenly, violent tremors blasted through the air—the mountains shattered, the ground quaking beneath their feet.

That was the Demon Sect’s external Formation getting breached, the explosion of Spiritual Power from it rattling the terrain.

Then cries for battle erupted, shaking the heavens.

The Golden Core Cultivators in the lead each unleashed their Magic Treasures and charged deep into Demon Sect territory—Sword Qi, Spells, swords and armor clashing in a wild frenzy as they collided with Demon Cultivators in mortal combat.

The sky, which had just been clear, gradually turned blood-red, mingling with the thick miasma, entwining into a hellish canvas.

After the Golden Cores burst in, the main army crashed in behind them.

The Dao Court Canon led the Enforcement Leaders; Taixu Sect Elders led the Inner Sect Disciples, forming neat lines as they advanced—like meat grinders, slaughtering every Demon Sect Disciple in their path.

Five Elements Spiritual Power and Evil Demon Blood Qi collided and tangled, erupting in furious explosions.

Shattered limbs everywhere, flesh and blood flying, the carnage extreme.

Streams of blood poured into rivers, seeped into the marshes—the entire Yanluo Mountain was shrouded in a curtain of blood.

The process was long and grueling.

Thousands of cultivators fought to the death among the mountains and toxic swamps. Blood was everywhere, blades shattered, Spells whistled through the sky, hidden weapons snaked over the ground—the scene was colossal in scale.

No one knew how long it went on, but eventually, the fighting eased for a brief moment.

Mo Hua knew—it wasn’t over; it meant that the Golden Core Elders and Dao Court Canon had led the charge into the Demon Sect’s inner lair.

Sure enough, moments later, even stronger tremors rocked the earth.

These tremors split mountains and cracked boulders; wild, sweeping auras scattered in all directions like raging waves, making the miasma of Yanluo Mountain swirl back upon itself, the hills and marshes trembling and rolling.

At the same time, a savage, brutal, and terrifying roar—like that of some ancient, monstrous beast—echoed through Yanluo Mountain, making a hundred demons quake in fear, and sending dread rippling through the hearts of the Righteous Dao cultivators.

Mo Hua’s pupils contracted sharply.

”That’s... a Dragon Roar?!”

Four Symbols Green Dragon Evil Formation...

Beside Mo Hua, Elder Xun Zixian—Late Golden Core Stage—heard the roar and his face changed color.

”Evil Dragon...”