Chapter 629: Forbidden Technique
"Yi?"
Mo Hua was stunned, suddenly recalling the note in the Water Prison Technique manual:
"...this technique was compiled and recorded by Immortal Yi of the Great Void Sect..."
"You're the one who added Water Prison Technique to the Merit Registry?"
Elder Yi blinked. "You even studied the Water Prison Technique?"
"Yep!" Mo Hua nodded.
Elder Yi looked a bit surprised.
That technique was easy to learn but incredibly difficult to master… and even harder to actually use.
He shook his head.
"Not me. That version was compiled by one of our Yi Clan ancestors."
"An ancestor?"
"Mm." Elder Yi nodded.
"Our Yi Clan is a family of spell cultivators. Most of our elders and disciples are spiritual cultivators who specialize in spell arts. We also enjoy collecting rare and unusual spell techniques…"
Glancing at the sky, Elder Yi said,
"Alright, I'm off now. If you have more spell-related questions, feel free to ask me again."
With many skilled alchemists in the Great Void Sect personally tending to his wounds, Mo Hua didn't suffer too severe injuries. Once he recovered, there would be no lasting side effects.
This technique—somewhat akin to "collapse"—was powerful, but unstable and prone to losing control.
But now that he was in Qianxue Province, a region filled with powerful sects and elite clans, with Heaven-grade talents everywhere…
This Fireball Fusion… absolutely needed more research.
As a spiritual cultivator, having quick spell activation and precise targeting was a huge advantage.
But if the spell's actual power was as weak as a slap with a wet noodle, then that advantage meant nothing.
And trying to experiment recklessly on his own? Risky business. One wrong step, and he'd be the one getting blown up.
Back in the second-tier provinces, most of his opponents had been rogue cultivators or disciples from small, underdeveloped families.
Even if he could land his spells, if they lacked power, it wouldn't get him far...
Mo Hua quickly realized this.
Some of these elite disciples were backed by high-tier spell inheritances.
After Elder Yi left, Mo Hua lay in bed, his bandaged left hand resting on his chest, thinking:
Twin Fireball Spells…
Divine sense guiding the collision…
Spell structure collapse…
Internal spiritual energy fusion…
The basic Fireball Spell was no longer cutting it.
Still, Elder Yi's kindness—and his candid sharing of knowledge—made Mo Hua feel deeply grateful. Even though he hadn't remembered Elder Yi's name earlier, the elder hadn't held it against him.
Mo Hua reviewed Elder Yi's explanation and began organizing the logic behind this kind of spell-based destruction:
Elder Yi had departed light-heartedly.
And after all, he'd shared something that valuable about spell theory—no way Mo Hua was going to implicate him by accident.
But next time… it might not go so smoothly.
He'd been lucky this time. The spell had lost control, yes—but with strong divine sense, he'd forcibly contained it. Had it exploded point-blank, he might not be lying in bed right now—he might be in the ground.
"Thanks, Elder Yi!"
Forced collision of fireballs.
Spell structure collapse.
Internal energy fission.
Like Formation Collapse—just in spell form.
Mo Hua politely bowed.
Hearing that "Elder Yi," the elder looked satisfied and was about to leave, but then paused, looking awkward.
"About your injury… I'll admit I was a little negligent. But… uh… Old Mister Xun…"
But if Mo Hua didn't study this further…
Then even the strongest explosion would be meaningless if it couldn't hit anyone.
"Don't worry, Elder Yi. I'll explain it to the old gentleman. This one's on me—it wasn't your fault!"
The version of the Fireball he'd cast using his powerful divine sense had been surprisingly effective.
"Alright then. Rest up."
"Take care, Elder."
The standard spell theory:
Spiritual energy flows from inside outward, forming a spell structure, which becomes the spell.
Even those degenerates hunted by the Dao Court had impressive foundations—many with better spiritual roots than his own.
Mo Hua felt a bit unwilling to give up.
"Oh…"
He nodded.
This really wasn't Elder Yi's fault.
It was he who was a "fragile little glass cannon"…
"Mo Hua, ah…"
One misstep, and his life could go poof…
Spell power depends on spiritual energy strength.
The most iconic example being high-grade techniques—huge energy cost, complex structure, devastating power.
But Mo Hua had weak spiritual energy, so high-grade techniques weren't an option. That meant he had to go the opposite way.
Manipulate the structure of the spell instead—flip it around, break it apart, mutate it, and then unleash explosive energy.
The spell itself would just be the trigger.
The fuse.
Use the spell to induce something like a formation's "reverse solution"—a fundamental mutation of spiritual energy.
That way, even with minimal energy, he could produce maximum destruction.
This process would require:
Careful planning and calculation,
Splitting divine sense into multiple threads,
Dual-spell coordination,
And intense, high-speed divine sense control.
It would also demand significant mental power.
But Mo Hua had exactly that—strong divine sense and weak spiritual power.
This reverse approach to spellcasting suited him perfectly.
It played to his strengths and sidestepped his biggest weakness.
He nodded firmly, making a decision:
He had to fully understand and refine this "Fusion Fireball" technique.
He already understood the basic principles.
The current problem?
Instability.
Collapsed spell structure, energy fusion—way too prone to going out of control. He might end up hurting himself before the enemy even flinched.
"I need a stable, controllable way to collapse the structure and fuse the fireballs…"
Mo Hua thought to himself.
The next day, Mo Hua returned to class.
Thanks to Old Mister Xun's hand-picked alchemists, his injuries had mostly healed. He just needed a bit of rest.
He was allowed to attend classes…
But not use spiritual energy or draw formations.
So this was the perfect opportunity to focus on researching Fireball Fusion.
Outside of class, whenever he had a free moment, he studied how to safely collide fireballs, collapse the spell structure, and fuse the spiritual energy.
Even if the resulting spell had less destructive power, as long as it was controllable, it was progress.
But after several days of effort—progress was painfully slow.
He just couldn't think of any way to collapse a spell's structure in a stable and directed manner while safely managing the resulting energy fusion.
That's when Mo Hua realized—he'd been overconfident.
This kind of inverted, counterintuitive spellcasting was not something he could just "wing" with a moment of inspiration. Let alone stabilize it solo.
Even the most basic spell had taken generations of cultivators to refine, practice, and perfect.
And Mo Hua's spell knowledge was… decent at best.
He didn't have unlimited time either. Trying to invent a spell from scratch?
Wishful thinking.
Mo Hua sighed—but he wasn't discouraged.
If working alone didn't cut it, he needed to study more fire-type spells. Maybe some of their structural logic could be adapted or borrowed.
Standing on the shoulders of giants, after all.
He nodded to himself. That seemed like a solid approach.
And it wasn't like he believed only he could come up with this "Fireball Fusion" concept.
With all the geniuses in the cultivation world, someone had definitely thought of this long ago—and even drawn up a proper spell formula.
With over twenty thousand years of Dao Court history and countless spellcasting experts, someone had surely researched this thoroughly.
There might even be an established technique out there, ready for him to…
"Borrow."
"Copy it…"
The first person Mo Hua thought of was Elder Yi.
After all, the entire concept had come from him in the first place.
And the Yi Clan was a spellcasting family—maybe they hadn't practiced this specific technique, but they'd definitely studied similar ones.
So, with his arm still bandaged, Mo Hua made his way to Elder Yi.
The moment Elder Yi heard his request, he frantically shook his head.
"No, no, absolutely not!"
Mo Hua had already blown up both his hands messing around on his own. Elder Yi had suffered through several days of stink-eye from Old Mister Xun just because of that.
If Elder Yi actually taught him something, and Mo Hua blew off a leg or two next…
Well, Old Mister Xun would probably strip him of all his sect stipends.
At that thought, Elder Yi added two more urgent refusals:
"Definitely not. No way."
Mo Hua had half expected that and curiously asked:
"Because it's too dangerous?"
"That's not just your average 'dangerous'…"
Mo Hua blinked innocently.
"How dangerous are we talking?"
Elder Yi opened his mouth to reply—then suddenly paused and eyed Mo Hua warily.
"You little brat… You're not trying to trick me into revealing something, are you?"
Mo Hua gave a sheepish grin.
"Elder, how could you say that? I'm just a kid—barely any guile in me. Why would I try to trick you?"
Elder Yi stared at him. He clearly didn't believe a single word.
"I'm just… a tiny bit curious," Mo Hua added.
"Still a no."
"Alright…" Mo Hua sighed, disappointed.
Seeing his crestfallen expression, Elder Yi started to feel a little guilty.
He hesitated for a bit—then finally grit his teeth and said:
"Fine. I'll tell you just a little. Just listen—don't go messing with it, and especially don't go practicing it! You hear me? You cannot hurt yourself again!"
"Mmhm!" Mo Hua nodded enthusiastically. "I won't recklessly practice anything."
Only then did Elder Yi breathe a little easier.
"This type of technique involves Spiritual Mutation. Naturally, it's incredibly dangerous…"
"Powerful, yes—but unstable. It can hurt others, or just as easily blow up in your own face. Even worse, it often causes irreparable damage to your meridians or spiritual core."
"That's why these techniques are classified as forbidden techniques—they're either sealed away, erased, or lost entirely."
"Forbidden techniques?!" Mo Hua was startled. "You mean… forbidden to cultivate?"
"Exactly." Elder Yi nodded.
Mo Hua looked uneasy and lowered his voice.
"If I practiced one… would the Dao Court come for me? Arrest me? Throw me in jail?"
Elder Yi sighed.
"Not quite…"
"See, 'forbidden techniques' cover many categories…"
"Things like yin-harvesting, demonic arts, corpse refinement, ghost spells—those are banned because they're outright evil and extremely harmful."
"But mutation-type techniques? They're banned mostly because they're powerful but uncontrollable."
"As long as you're not using it to go on a killing spree, and you're just quietly experimenting on your own—well, at worst you'll blow yourself up like you already did. The Dao Court probably won't bother."
Then Elder Yi quickly raised a finger:
"BUT! I am not telling you to go secretly practice!"
"Don't do it!"
"Of course not!" Mo Hua nodded quickly. "Please continue."
Elder Yi gave him a side-eye, then nodded:
"Still… since they are classified as forbidden techniques, they all carry serious side effects."
"Like scorched meridians, reverse spiritual flow, yin-yang imbalance…"
"Some cultivators even turned to demonic paths or dark arts just to overcome these consequences."
"That's why the Dao Court had to implement a blanket ban on all forbidden techniques."
"Unstable spells just aren't fit for general practice. They're time bombs waiting to explode."
He looked somber as he spoke.
Mo Hua asked softly:
"Does the Dao Court secretly store forbidden techniques?"
Elder Yi blinked, then sighed.
"They do. After all…"
He didn't finish—but Mo Hua understood.
The Dao Court ruled the entire cultivation world. If they wanted to archive something, who could stop them?
Mo Hua pressed further:
"What about sects? Do they keep records too?"
Elder Yi immediately shook his head.
"No."
Mo Hua looked at him skeptically. He clearly didn't believe that either.
Elder Yi looked around, checked that no one was nearby, then sighed.
He lowered his voice and said:
"The sect does… ahem… record some of them."
"Of course—not demonic, evil, ghostly, or corpse-type forbidden techniques. Those violate heaven's principles and are unconditionally banned."
"The ones we keep are those involving grand Dao principles. They're incredibly powerful, but either virtually impossible to cultivate, uncontrollable, or cause terrifying aftereffects."
"Whether they're kept or discarded is decided by the Sect Master, elders, or even the Ancestors."
"Some spells were once safe, but the cost of practicing them became too high—so the ancestors chose to seal them away as forbidden."
Elder Yi looked Mo Hua straight in the eye.
"You'd better not get any ideas about forbidden techniques."
"Even if the sect has records, disciples are strictly forbidden from cultivating them."
"Our Great Void Sect has very strict rules. If any disciple dares to secretly train in forbidden techniques, no matter the reason, they'll be immediately expelled!"
Mo Hua felt a chill and his expression turned solemn.
Elder Yi patted him on the shoulder, sighing:
"Old Mister Xun thinks very highly of you. For your own good—and for his sake—don't go straying. Don't let him down."
Mo Hua nodded seriously.
"You have my word, Elder Yi."
Elder Yi stared into Mo Hua's eyes, saw the clear sincerity there, and finally relaxed.
After he left, Mo Hua returned to his disciple quarters.
As he reflected on their conversation, Mo Hua made several conclusions:
The kind of technique that used Fireball Fusion principles definitely existed—and it would definitely be classified as a forbidden technique.
Practicing forbidden techniques came with side effects.
Sometimes minor.
Sometimes devastating.
Sometimes enough to drive someone into madness or demonic cultivation.
There had to be forbidden techniques stored in the Great Void Sect.
But their locations wouldn't be public knowledge.
At the very least, they wouldn't appear in standard curricula or the merit registry.
And more importantly—Mo Hua couldn't steal them.
The sect rules were absolute.
If he were caught secretly learning forbidden techniques, even Old Mister Xun—no matter how much he favored him—would be forced to expel him.
Old Mister Xun had been so kind to him. He couldn't betray that kindness.
But!
Mo Hua had a sudden realization.
As long as he didn't secretly learn any forbidden techniques from the Great Void Sect, there would be no problem!
And as long as he didn't dabble in the demonic, monstrous, corpse, or ghost-type forbidden arts, the Dao Court wouldn't come knocking either.
Side effects? Who cared.
He wasn't actually trying to practice a forbidden technique.
He just wanted to study the theoretical structure of forbidden arts that used spell fusion—
To "borrow" some of their spell formulas, then gradually optimize and refine his own version of a stable and controllable Fireball Fusion Technique.
And according to Elder Yi, any sect disciple caught secretly cultivating forbidden techniques would be immediately expelled from the sect.
Which meant…
They'd be considered traitors to the sect!
Mo Hua's eyes lit up.
That meant—in Boss Jiang's list of all those shady rogue cultivators—there was a real chance that one or two of them had dabbled in forbidden arts. That might've been what caused them to rebel against their sects and go rogue.
Boss Jiang was truly his lucky star!
That list of his was practically a treasure map of forbidden inheritances!
Smiling with delight, Mo Hua pulled the jade slip back out and began combing through it again.
He had already marked the names of several rogue cultivators that had the character "Fire" (火) in them—
That was his previous filter, based on wanting to learn fire-element spells.
Mo Hua started reviewing those names one by one:
Fire Foreman, Fire Wolfhead, Flame Palm, Fire Butcher…
Mo Hua frowned.
Left, right, no matter how he looked at them—none of them seemed like the type to have learned forbidden techniques.
Their spell usage didn't seem to involve anything like spell collapse or spiritual energy fusion—nothing that might help him study forbidden spell mechanics.
Most importantly…
He didn't feel that spark—that heavenly warning, that cause-and-effect pulse from the heavens.
"Nothing…?"
Mo Hua slumped in disappointment.
He tucked the jade slip back into his storage ring.
But then, feeling a bit unwilling to give up, he took it out again and placed it on the table. Activating his merged Heavenly Mechanism Deduction Algorithm, he looked through it carefully once more.
That's when he noticed it—
A faint red thread of karmic cause and effect stretching from the jade slip.
Mo Hua froze, eyes widening.
It's there.
Within the heavenly patterns and cause-and-effect foresight—this list did include someone with a forbidden inheritance related to "fireball fusion."
Mo Hua immediately opened the list again.
But in the jade slip, every single rogue cultivator's name appeared completely ordinary. Nothing stood out.
It felt like that karmic sign had been nothing but a mirage.
He tried deducing further…
Still, no clear discovery.
"What's going on…"
Mo Hua leaned over the desk, chin in hand, frowning.
"Is there something I'm missing?"
"Something still hidden deep within Boss Jiang's list? Something not yet decrypted?"
Determined, Mo Hua retrieved Boss Jiang's personal journal and reread it—
While scanning it with spiritual sense, line by line, character by character, scrutinizing every detail.
Nothing on the first readthrough.
He read it again.
It wasn't until the third time that Mo Hua finally noticed something—
Some of the sentence breaks had suspicious gaps, filled with a hidden "seal pattern"—this time the concealment was much more subtle. Mo Hua had instinctively skipped over them before.
He couldn't help but mutter in admiration:
"This Boss Jiang… really full of tricks…"
He almost got away with it!
Eyes lighting up, Mo Hua started trying to decrypt them. But the seal patterns in these blank gaps were totally different from the ones elsewhere.
So, he could only fall back on his old reliable method—
Patiently comparing each pattern with those in the Secondary Thunder Rune Library, one by one, and slowly deciphering.
Three days later, Mo Hua finally decrypted a new name from the blank sections of the jade slip.
This name had been buried extremely deep, painted in thick black ink.
It seemed wrapped in blood-red mist, bathed in flame, with waves of murderous intent pulsing beneath it—
A presence so intense, it made Mo Hua's heart skip a beat.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he slowly read aloud:
"Fire Buddha."
(End of this Chapter)