Chapter 1103: Elder of the Pavilion Checks In
The Elder of the Pavilion hadn't intended to say much, but considering the bond of teacher and student—though not a personal disciple, there was still some sentiment—he sighed lightly and said:
"You are the Astrologer. One day, you may become a Pavilion Elder."
The middle-aged cultivator known as the "Astrologer" quickly cupped his hands. "I wouldn't dare."
The Pavilion Elder glanced at him mildly and continued:
"The higher the position you sit in, the broader your vision must be. Only with a broad vision can you stand tall, see far, and know where to go. With narrow vision and mistaken direction, the higher you climb, the harder you fall."
"Most people only seek fame and power, unaware that fame and power must be borne with capacity and guided with a steadfast Dao Heart. If your scope is small and your Dao Heart weak, fame and power will consume your true self and bring ruin."
The Elder pointed to the sky and asked, "What is a Son of Heaven?"
The Astrologer frowned. "A scion of the Dao Sovereign's lineage, upholding the Heavenly Dao above, bearing the fortunes of the people below—that is the Son of Heaven."
The Elder shook his head and pointed at the Astrologer. "You are the Son of Heaven."
The Astrologer instantly broke out in cold sweat and said in a trembling voice, "Elder…"
The Elder pointed at himself. "I am also a 'Son of Heaven.'"
The Astrologer was stunned.
"Not just you and I…" The Elder pointed to the various cultivators all around, differing in strength and wealth. "…All of them are 'Sons of Heaven.'"
The Astrologer froze, thoughtful.
The Elder said, "To live in this world is to tread the earth and face the sky."
"Everyone in this world is born of Heaven and Earth, and thus all are Sons of Heaven—masters of this world."
"All cultivators pursue the Heavenly Dao. Therefore, the heavens belong to all under heaven, not just to the Dao Court…"
The Astrologer furrowed his brows deeply. After pondering for a while, he sighed inwardly. The Elder is getting old, he thought, and keeps saying these impractical, lofty words.
The Elder glanced at the Astrologer and sighed internally.
The atmosphere turned heavy; no one spoke.
People bustled all around, noisy and chaotic, yet it was as if no one noticed the two of them.
After a pause, the Astrologer spoke again. "Elder, why are you elevating the Great Void Sect like this?"
The Elder calmly replied, "They earned the top spot in the Dao Debate through their own merit. What elevation?"
"Elder, calling them the foremost of the Four Sects is very different from the term 'Three Mountains and Four Sects'…" the Astrologer murmured.
"That title was set by the Celestial Authority Pavilion. What does that have to do with me?" said the Elder.
The Astrologer sighed. "But the origins of the Three Mountains of the Great Void were…"
The Elder shook his head. "That's ancient history. Why bring it up now?"
The Astrologer was left speechless.
The Elder looked at him calmly and asked, "Have you arranged everything?"
The Astrologer was taken aback, then turned pale. "I…"
The Elder said, "You have skill, you have connections, you can pull the strings. That's all good. For the role of Pavilion Elder, no one is more suited than you. But I'll repeat what I said—before you ask for something, ask yourself whether you can truly hold it. You need the capacity to fill that seat."
The Astrologer bowed his head. "Yes…"
The Elder sighed. "I'm old. My strength is fading. I wouldn't have been able to remain Pavilion Elder for much longer anyway."
"This chess match of Ganxue was my final game."
"A result many are clearly unhappy with. And since they are displeased, of course they'll want someone else to play—a person they can be pleased with."
He looked toward the Astrologer.
The Astrologer's face filled with guilt as he lowered his head.
The Elder had nothing more to say. He waved his hand. "Alright, the time's about right. You should return… If you want something, go for it. Once you have it, then do it well. That's not wrong. Don't overthink it, and don't worry about pride."
The Astrologer bowed. "Yes."
Then he looked up at the Elder. "And you…"
The Elder replied mildly, "I'm old and weary of noise. Let me have a moment of peace…"
Seeing the Elder's tired face, the Astrologer sighed, rose, and gave a deep bow. "Take care of yourself."
The Elder gave a faint "mm."
The Astrologer remained bowed as his figure slowly faded and left the teahouse.
Only the Elder remained, along with the chessboard before him.
Once the Astrologer had gone, the weariness on the Elder's face faded, and he actually looked somewhat refreshed.
He began absentmindedly tidying up the chessboard, his gaze drifting toward the distant gates of Cloud Crossing City.
At the city gate, carriages flowed like water, and people swarmed like tides.
After a stick of incense's time, a thin youth emerged from the crowd.
The Elder's brows twitched, and his heart stirred.
This was his first time seeing the boy up close.
At first glance, he was astounded—his features were gentle as jade, his gaze clear as water, his brows and eyes refined like a painting.
"What a handsome young man…"
But with the second glance, a chill ran down his spine.
His fate was fierce and ominous—catastrophic forces gathered around him: the path of Heaven imbued, the resonance of the earth, immense good intertwined with immense evil, and the aura of gods, demons, righteousness, and chaos, all coexisting within one person.
These karmic forces all lived within a single human being.
Even the Elder couldn't help but inhale sharply.
"Just who… raised this little monster…"
He stared, stunned, quietly watching Mo Hua.
Mo Hua blended into the bustling crowd, entered Cloud Crossing City, and headed straight to the ferry. Seeing it was still early, he found a nearby eatery and ordered a bowl of noodles.
In the midst of the marketplace, Mo Hua sat alone eating noodles.
He looked like nothing more than a young cultivator wandering far from home—no trace of the fact that he was the youngest senior brother of the Great Void Sect, Ganxue's leading sect; the twin champion of two Dao Formation tournaments; the top swordsman of two debates; the slayer of countless monsters; the one who shattered the Grand Blood Sacrifice Array of the Wild Heaven.
"To shine yet blend with the dust…"
The Elder's pupils trembled slightly, momentarily dazed.
As the crowd flowed by, Mo Hua continued to eat his noodles quietly.
And there sat the mysterious, high-ranking Elder of the Celestial Pivot Pavilion—one of the Seven Great Pavilions of the Dao Court—watching a boy eat noodles from afar… for an entire bowl.
Only after Mo Hua finished his noodles and drank all the soup did the Elder come back to himself, sighing lightly.
"It's time to go."
He had achieved his goal.
He had come to Cloud Crossing City because he'd divined Mo Hua's movements and had been curious to see the boy before he departed.
Now that he'd seen him, it was time to leave.
The Elder began packing up the chessboard. But halfway through, he paused and looked up—just in time to meet Mo Hua's gaze.
Mo Hua seemed to glance through the crowd and see him.
The Elder was surprised. "Did he… see me?"
But Mo Hua's gaze seemed fleeting—he looked away quickly.
Afterward, Mo Hua appeared puzzled, scanning the area as if trying to find or figure out something.
He looked around but didn't find it. Eventually, his gaze returned—to the Elder.
More precisely, to the Elder's chessboard.
Then, Mo Hua raised his head. Through the hazy air, his eyes landed on the Elder, and they immediately lit up.
The Elder watched, stunned, as Mo Hua got up and walked directly over to him.
Mo Hua looked at the chessboard, then at the Elder, and asked eagerly:
"Sir, do you know how to play chess?"
The Elder nodded.
Mo Hua thought, Just as I thought, and said, "How about we play a game?"
The Elder hesitated in thought but didn't answer immediately.
Mo Hua explained, "I'm waiting for the ferry, but it's still early. I happened to see you playing alone, so I thought I'd join you for a game."
The Elder's interest stirred. He countered, "Why play with me?"
Mo Hua studied him and said confidently, "That beard, that air about you—you look like a master!"
The Elder was briefly stunned, then smiled as if spring had warmed his bones and soft rain had fallen into his heart.
Look at that!
There are people in this world who know how to recognize true skill!
This child truly lived up to being the dual champion of the formation path, top swordsman of Ganxue—he could tell with a single glance from the crowd that the Elder was no ordinary chess player.
The "notoriously terrible chess player" of the Celestial Pivot Pavilion was, in that moment, overwhelmed with joy and the rare feeling of finding a kindred spirit.
"Come, let's play a game!"
The Elder, who had just been about to leave, was instantly reenergized. With a sweep of his sleeve, he reset the board.
Mo Hua respectfully bowed to him and sat down across the board, his posture straight and manner courteous.
"You go first," said the Elder.
"Alright."
"After you," the elder said.
"Alright."
Mo Hua, being the younger of the two, did not decline. He picked up a chess piece, and after careful consideration, placed it on the board.
Anyone with a discerning eye could instantly tell—this was a terrible move.
Yet the elder was visibly moved. "That move… truly excellent!"
Mo Hua froze, then suddenly felt a rare sense of kinship.
It had been a very long time since anyone praised his chess skills.
The last time was when he played with Grandpa Puppet.
Mo Hua couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
The elder made his move next.
Naturally, it was also a terrible one.
But Mo Hua looked shocked. "Sir, your skill is truly divine!"
The elder stroked his beard. "Not bad."
Mo Hua studied the board, furrowed his brows, fell into deep thought, and then placed another piece.
The elder glanced at it, nodding approvingly. "Not bad, not bad." He then looked up at Mo Hua and asked, "Do you often play chess?"
Mo Hua sighed with some regret. "It's been a long time since I last played."
The elder asked, "Why?"
Mo Hua replied with a puzzled expression, "I think I should be a chess expert, but none of my fellow disciples will play with me. They think I'm bad. I find this quite baffling, so I had no choice but to 'seal away' my chess skills and rarely show them."
The elder suddenly felt a sense of kindred sorrow and mutual understanding. He sighed, "Indeed. I am the same."
Mo Hua was shocked. "Sir, with such divine skill, and still people fail to recognize your worth?"
The elder shook his head and lamented, "The world is simply ignorant."
Mo Hua nodded in full agreement.
The elder asked again, "Who taught you to play chess before?"
Mo Hua said, "No one. I just used to play often with Grandpa Puppet when I was young."
The elder's eyelid twitched slightly.
Mo Hua placed another piece and said, "Sir, your turn."
The elder, now more spirited, said slowly, "Very well… Let me see…"
After a moment of contemplation, he made his move.
One old and one young—one holding black, the other white—took turns placing pieces, locked in a battle of wit in a quiet teahouse in a remote Immortal City.
To outsiders, it was just two hopeless players playing a nonsensical game. But to them, it was a thoroughly enjoyable match.
Time passed unnoticed.
Until the sun sank in the west and the evening glow spread across the sky, a mellow cloud flute sounded from the distant Cloud Ferry. Mo Hua came back to his senses and looked at the half-finished game, sighing:
"It's time, sir. I must go."
The elder looked at the unfinished game with some reluctance as well.
Mo Hua said sincerely, "Sir, your chess skills are truly amazing. If fate allows, I'd love to play with you again."
The elder looked up at Mo Hua, suddenly feeling a sense of "regretful late acquaintance." With some reluctance, he said:
"Very well. If we meet again, let's play another match."
Mo Hua respectfully bowed. "Until we meet again, sir."
The elder gazed deeply at Mo Hua, as if trying to engrave his face into memory, and said warmly:
"Until we meet again…"
The sound of the cloud flute echoed once more.
Knowing he could not delay any longer, Mo Hua cupped his hands and left the teahouse, walking straight toward the Cloud Ferry ship.
At the edge of the ferry, Mo Hua turned back, wanting to wave goodbye to the elder—but the area in front of the teahouse was empty. The chessboard was gone, and so was the elder.
Mo Hua felt a tinge of regret.
But such meetings and partings are part of life.
At that thought, a feeling of melancholy welled up inside him.
"So… I'm finally leaving…"
He thought back to when he first arrived—alone, traveling across countless miles by Cloud Ferry to study at the sect in Qianzhou…
Just like before, Mo Hua lowered his gaze to the vast earth, then lifted his head to the boundless sky, his heart stirred.
As Heaven moves with strength, so must one strive unceasingly.
As Earth is receptive and nurturing, so must one hold great virtue.
Living between Heaven and Earth—wherever one walks, the sky is always overhead, the earth always beneath one's feet.
Above lies the eternal Heavenly Dao Formation; below lies the Dao's deep and weighty virtue.
He, too, should carry Heaven's will in his heart—cultivate the Dao, press forward with resolve, use formations to aid the world, and bear virtue to support all life.
Follow Heaven's truth to gain the Dao; help the people to seek longevity.
Mo Hua's Dao Heart grew ever brighter.
Above the vast skies, the Qian Path's fate flowed. Mo Hua stepped aboard the deck of the Cloud Ferry.
Half an hour later, the flute sounded again.
The massive Cloud Ferry finally set sail, carrying Mo Hua away from the borders of Qianxue Prefecture, into the boundless sea of clouds—and toward a vaster cultivation world…
Several days later.
The mist laid down by Elder Xun gradually dispersed. Only then did the various powers in Qianxue begin to react—each with different thoughts.
Even the long-silent Slaughter Mo Order stirred with whispers:
"I heard Mo Hua has left…"
"Who said that?"
"The sect's Patriarch divined it, told the Sect Master, who told my father, who told me…"
"I heard some noble families tried to intercept Mo Hua."
"Too bad. The Grand Elder Xun of the Great Void Sect has unfathomable cultivation. By the time they traced the karmic remnants, Mo Hua had already taken the Cloud Ferry."
A brief silence fell over the Slaughter Mo Order.
Then someone muttered, "Good riddance. I really didn't want to see that Mo Hua again…"
"You're just scared."
"Shut up."
Someone else said, "The Sword Conference is over, Mo Hua's gone. This Slaughter Mo Alliance—let's just disband it…"
"Yeah, no point anymore."
"It's not like we had deep hatred against him anyway. Just some grudges from the duels…"
"Exactly…"
Suddenly, the Mo sigils warped. Those who said "disband" were muted.
A stronger, higher-authority anonymous magnetic sigil lit up, forming a sentence:
"How laughable!"
"You'd give up so easily? With such weak resolve, how will you achieve anything great?"
The Slaughter Mo Order fell silent.
Someone asked, "Who are you?"
Anonymous Magnetic Ink:
"Doesn't matter who I am. I ask you only this—have you truly forgotten the humiliation Mo Hua inflicted upon you?"
"How he, for a moment of glory, used something as trivial as Fireball Technique to kill and disgrace you?"
"How he mocked and shamed you, those scenes captured in projection talismans and passed around for public ridicule?"
"How your most prized techniques were completely overshadowed by his, bringing shame to your sects and lineages?"
"How some of you were the top geniuses of your sects—admired and revered—only to be struck down like clowns by Mo Hua's sword?"
"How you all ganged up on him, yet were completely blown apart by his formations…"
"Have you forgotten all of this?"
The dead memories came rushing back.
The humiliation and fury Mo Hua brought them—faded with time, now surged anew in their hearts.
Like old wounds torn open again—raw and unbearable.
"But… Mo Hua did save us. Isn't holding a grudge unfair…"
Before he finished, he too was muted.
Anonymous Magnetic Ink replied:
"Did he really save you? Think again. Was it kindness—or self-serving ambition?"
"He only saved you to boost his own fame."
"His heart has always been selfish and cunning."
"Do not let petty favors cloud your judgment."
"Do not be fooled by Mo Hua's vile, treacherous, sinister, selfish, and evil nature."
His words stirred agreement:
"Well said."
"Mo Hua may look innocent, but he's truly deceitful and calculating—completely untrustworthy!"
"So, the Slaughter Mo Alliance must not be disbanded!"
"The Great Void Sect is now the top sect in Qianxue. From now on, they are the number one threat to our Four Sects, Eight Schools, and Twelve Streams. Mo Hua holds a lofty status there—'to catch the thief, seize the king first.' To strike the Void Sect, we must prepare to strike Mo Hua."
"He is cunning and terrifyingly gifted in formations—a long-term threat to us all. This isn't just personal grudge—it's about the future of our sects and families!"
"But…" someone said, "I heard from my sect elder that Mo Hua doesn't even have a life-bound artifact yet. At this rate, he won't form his Core until who knows when… By then, we'll already be Core Formation or even Ascended. Isn't this overkill?"
"This Slaughter Mo Alliance, honestly…"
Before he could finish, he too was muted.
Anonymous Magnetic Ink:
"Mo Hua is Mo Hua. Whether he's Core or Foundation, it doesn't change his sinister threat. We must never grow complacent or speak such disloyal words that shake our unity."
"Our mission is simple: Slay Mo Hua, protect the Dao. Mo Hua must die!"
This line reignited their long-lost fervor.
"Exactly—Slay Mo Hua, protect the Dao!"
"Mo Hua must die!"
"This Slaughter Mo Alliance must never disband—lest this cancer named Mo Hua rise again!"
"Together, we'll support each other. One day, we will make Mo Hua pay—for the disgrace of the Sword Conference!"
"Well said!"
...
Thus, the Slaughter Mo Alliance, once on the verge of collapse, revived once more. Bound together by their shared hatred of Mo Hua, it slowly grew into a "dark" network of Qianxue's prodigies—united, supportive, and ever vigilant.
And just like that, the once-dwindling Slaughter Mo Alliance began to revive itself, holding together through their "hatred" of Mo Hua, gradually becoming a "dark" organization made up of Drywell's elite disciples who stayed in touch, supported one another, and helped each other in secret.
Most members of the Slaughter Mo Alliance naturally still hated Mo Hua.
After all, some of the things Mo Hua had done were truly beyond what a person should be capable of.
Some people felt a mix of gratitude and resentment toward Mo Hua, a tangled web of feelings.
But since everyone else was "cursing" Mo Hua and eager to kill him, they simply "went along with the crowd," joining in the verbal condemnation.
A small number of people actually didn't hate Mo Hua that much.
Some, after experiencing the Sword Debate Conference and the Blood Sacrifice Array, having personally witnessed Mo Hua's strength and received his kindness, had already "turned from black to fan"—inwardly admiring and respecting him.
But Mo Hua had already left the Drywell Prefecture and vanished without a trace.
The Slaughter Mo Alliance became the only organization related to Mo Hua.
So they could only remain in the alliance, hoping that one day, they might hear news of him.
Even if they never heard anything, just listening to others "rant" about Mo Hua every day, listing his countless crimes and misdeeds, gave them something to hold onto.
Outside the Slaughter Mo Order, however, Mo Hua's influence gradually faded.
The Dao Court Office—even the Central Dao Court—had, under unknown orders, sealed Mo Hua's records with the highest level of secrecy.
Ordinary Dao Court Office cultivators, even regional heads, had no authority to access Mo Hua's files.
The Great Void Sect, in order to protect Mo Hua, also refrained from leaking any word about him to the outside world.
The elders and disciples within the sect followed the patriarch's orders, avoiding discussions about Mo Hua in case they inadvertently revealed any karma.
The name "Mo Hua" itself became a shadow that all sects and noble families in the Drywell Prefecture preferred not to mention.
Two-time champion of the Array Dao competition. The number one in the Drywell Sword Debate.
It was like he'd danced across their very faces.
Not to mention, Mo Hua's official identity was that of a rogue cultivator.
A rogue cultivator had somehow crushed all of their sect geniuses and direct heirs of noble families. It was an insult they could not bear.
All sects and noble houses wished people would forget the name "Mo Hua" as quickly as possible. Promoting his deeds was out of the question, as it would only steal the limelight from their own talents and heirs.
As for most other cultivators, no matter how bright Mo Hua's star once shone, he was still just one among the many geniuses of Drywell Prefecture.
Drywell was already a place teeming with talent.
Every session of the Drywell Dao Debate saw a few dazzling geniuses emerge—any one of them could momentarily steal the show.
This time it was Mo Hua; next time, it would be someone else.
Heroes in the world were like fish in a river—countless and ever-changing.
People were forgetful by nature, always drawn to the new and bored by the old.
Without anyone to promote or mention him, the legendary and controversial name "Mo Hua" gradually faded from the public eye.
Cultivators of Drywell Prefecture continued to live and cultivate as usual.
The entire Drywell Prefecture went on functioning as it always had...
---
Only, one month later, another major event occurred in the Drywell Prefecture.
The Dao Court was coming to "hold them accountable."
The evil god conspiracy, the disaster of the blood sacrifice—there was no way the Dao Court would just let it slide.
In both open and hidden dealings, much profit and interest were still being divided and claimed.
This round of "accountability" marked the first and most legitimate direct intervention by the Central Dao Court in Drywell Prefecture's internal affairs.
Another major matter was the handling of Drywell's Four Prides.
These four top-tier disciples—bloodline prodigies, revered by thousands—had fallen to demonic thoughts and strayed from the righteous path. It was an enormous scandal.
Various powers joined forces to suppress the matter, to prevent further damage to Drywell's reputation and to preserve the authority of the Dao Court.
But how to deal with the four of them was a thorny problem.
Bloodline prodigies were rare geniuses.
Both the Dao Court and noble families valued talent and were reluctant to waste such cultivation potential.
Moreover, these four weren't just Drywell prodigies. As core direct heirs of fifth-grade noble families, they were connected to influential elders in the Dao Court. Each of them bore the bloodline of great cultivators—otherwise, they could not have awakened their bloodlines in the first place.
Geniuses of such background, even when they made grave mistakes, no one truly dared to kill them.
Let alone execution—even punishment or insults had to be meted out with extreme caution.
So their fate would be decided solely by the Central Dao Court.
Inside the Grand Hall of Dao Debate Mountain—
The top leaders of every noble family and sect in Drywell had gathered, preparing to face the Dao Court's accountability.
It would be an incredibly difficult assembly.
Everyone present bore heavy expressions—and many were familiar faces to Mo Hua.
Including the heads and deputies of the Dao Court Office, the leaders of the Great Void's Three Peaks, the heads and elders of the Four Sects, Eight Gates, Twelve Streams, and several top-ranking noble families.
Among the families present, not a single one was below fifth-grade—
Except for one: the Gu family.
Though not yet fifth-grade, the Gu family was considered a "quasi-fifth-grade" family. They were strong in their own right and had close ties with the Dao Court Office.
Even Elder Gu Hong, a cultivator of the Feathering Realm and head of the Gu family, had come to attend.
The guests took their seats in order, based on family rank and seniority.
Shen Linshu, Ao Zhan, Xiao Wuchen, and Duanmu Qing—the four once-renowned bloodline prodigies—stood pale-faced below the main hall.
Their Longevity Talismans had been shattered, their seas of consciousness severed—their vital energy gravely wounded.
More importantly, their Dao hearts had nearly been destroyed.
But as peerless geniuses—arrogant by nature—and of noble status, they remained proud despite their pale complexions, though their eyes now bore a hint of coldness and despair.
Especially Duanmu Qing.
Her expression was colder than before, and her eyes were dull and lifeless—as if everything around her was decaying wood.
In the oppressive and heavy silence, time passed slowly.
The high-ranking members of the great sects and families whispered quietly among themselves.
Duanmu Qing and the others stood below the hall, their faces indifferent.
After an unknown length of time, an immense pressure descended from the sky. The sounds of carriage wheels echoed, accompanied by the occasional low dragon's roar.
These were dragon-horses—mounts reserved for sixth-grade noble families.
All turned toward the sound to see eight golden-white dragon-horses with shimmering scales and powerful builds pulling a resplendent Nine Heavens Gilded Chariot descending from the sky, landing within the hall with overwhelming majesty.
The elders and leaders of the various sects and families frowned, but still rose to greet the arrival with formal respect.
As the chariot came to a stop, several cultivators in luxurious robes, each with immense cultivation and haughty expressions, began stepping down.
The Drywell leaders welcomed them one by one, observing all proper etiquette, no matter their displeasure—lest they offend the Dao Court and bring the proceedings to a standstill.
Shen Linshu, Ao Zhan, and Xiao Wuchen acted as if they saw nothing.
Duanmu Qing, on the other hand, sneered inwardly—utterly disdainful of this pompous parade of aristocrats.
She didn't even bother to glance at them.
Until—
A white figure stepped down from the Nine Heavens Gilded Chariot, and an overwhelming aura swept across the room.
The pupils of every sect leader and noble elder in the entire Drywell Prefecture contracted sharply.
The once-buzzing grand hall instantly fell into a dead silence.
Duanmu Qing's eyes widened in shock. She instinctively looked up—and in that instant, it was as though a ghostly night-blooming flower bloomed before her eyes, eclipsing all of heaven and earth.
Her chest tightened violently, her blood began to boil, and her heart blazed with fire—shaking her entire body.
(End of this Chapter)