The Quest for Immortality

Mo Hua stood motionless.

”This brat, did he get scared stupid?” A bandit sneered, then said, ”The first kill is mine, don’t you bastards try to steal it from me...”

”Bullshit!”

”I haven’t had meat in a long time...”

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

But in the next instant, almost in the blink of an eye, a deep red firelight flared.

Those three or four bandits, clothes, skin and flesh, bones, their entire bodies, were melted away without a trace.

The remaining bandits still had mocking smiles on their faces, which in an instant were all replaced by sheer, incredulous terror.

”Fuck!”

”What the hell is that!”

The burly man in yellow at their head broke out in a cold sweat all over, his face turning paper white, not a hint of blood left.

He made a snap decision, abandoning his companions without a second thought, spinning around and bolting madly, screaming in his heart:

”Fuck this! Fuck this! Running into a ghost in broad daylight, we’ve hit a damn brick wall!” .

The yellow-clothed brute pushed himself to the limit, forcing his clumsy movement technique, fleeing for his life.

He hadn’t run more than a few steps when he suddenly felt his chest grow warm, even a bit hot. He looked down, and his guts turned to water.

His chest, at some unknown point, had already been bored through by a Fireball.

His blood was burned dry, leaving a pitch-black hole.

The yellow-clothed brute’s eyes were filled with terror. He staggered a few steps, then pitched forward onto the ground and died on the spot.

The remaining seven or eight bandits were all killed by Mo Hua, one Fireball for each, sometimes one Fireball for two, none left alive.

Only that one bandit with the honest-looking face was left, scared so badly he collapsed to the ground, his crotch soaked, begging nonstop:

”Little brother... no, sir, Little Ancestor, spare me, spare my life... I really have kids to feed...”

Mo Hua looked at him indifferently. ”Raise your kids so they can take over your job, keep robbing the road, is that it?”

The bandit’s face went deathly pale.

Mo Hua said faintly, ”Like father, like son—that’s fate. Today, I’ll kill you, the father, and change your kid’s Life Chart once for him.”

The bandit was scared out of his wits. He turned and struggled to run with all his might, but his legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

Within just a few breaths, a deep red Fireball descended. With a boom, it burned his entire fleshly body to nothing.

At this point, this band of a dozen or so bandits who made their living robbing and looting had all been burned to death by Mo Hua, with hardly any corpses or limbs left behind.

In front of the narrow mountain road, everything was deathly silent.

Mo Hua’s expression was cold, Evil Qi surging in his eyes, like a god of slaughter.

A moment later, the gray Evil Qi in Mo Hua’s eyes gradually faded. His pupils constricted, and only then did he come back to himself.

He looked at the dead bandits around him, then at his own pale hands, his expression dazed. He frowned and muttered:

”How did I... lose control...”

These bandits, he could have chosen not to kill; he hadn’t really wanted to kill them.

He could have gone invisible and just walked away, or used a Spell to trap these bandits, even cripple their hands and legs at most.

But just now, the moment he saw their greed and heard of their wicked deeds, the killing intent in his heart surged up beyond his control.

To the point that he used the Fireball Technique to personally wipe out this dozen-odd bandits, and only then did he snap out of it.

And after actually killing, Mo Hua didn’t feel anything was wrong, nor did he feel the Evil Qi rampaging. On the contrary, his thoughts felt clear, and his heart felt unburdened.

But Mo Hua knew this was actually the biggest problem.

If he forcibly suppressed the killing intent in his heart and refused to kill, then the Evil Qi would backlash, disturb his mind, and leave him irritable and restless.

But if he truly killed to vent his desire to slaughter, on the surface his thoughts would clear, yet this killing karma would turn into karmic force and fuse into his Life Chart.

The killing intent would also fuse into his disposition, branded into his Divine Soul.

If this went on for long, his bloodlust would grow heavier and heavier, until one day it spiraled out of control—addicted to killing, slaughtering at random, drawing his sword at the slightest disagreement.

This absolutely wouldn’t do...

Mo Hua frowned, silently warning himself in his heart:

”No more killing, no more killing, I must not, must not, ever again strike to kill...”

”From now on, I, Mo Hua, will never break the killing precept again...”