Chapter 1539: Dead Again?

Chapter 1539: Dead Again?

This fireball had a deeper, richer color and far greater power, like a mass of flowing molten rock.

It was no longer quite the same as those small Foundation Establishment Stage fireballs in Gu Changhuai's memory.

But how could Gu Changhuai fail to recognize it?

After all, the very first time he had pursued Mo Hua was because of those dozen or so human traffickers outside Qingzhou City who had died by the Fireball Technique.

This black-robed cultivator... is Mo Hua?!

Gu Changhuai stared at the black-robed figure whom Lord Qingchou had respectfully addressed as Esteemed Master, his heart shaken with astonishment.

Was this kid truly so remarkably capable? He was everywhere.

In this turbulent Prefecture Realm of Qingchou, within this treacherous maze of the Unorthodox Path, he had managed to find his way here directly...

This could no longer be described merely as remarkably capable.

But before Gu Changhuai could think further, Mo Hua's fireball was already flying straight at his face.

Gu Changhuai's gaze sharpened. Not daring to be careless, he immediately activated the Wind Luan Movement Technique and dodged the fireball.

The fireball exploded behind him, and a strange, searing heat spread outward. The lingering residual force sent a faint chill of dread through one's heart.

Gu Changhuai's heart tingled numbly.

It had been so many years since they last met, and Mo Hua's Fireball Technique had already evolved to this level.

And this was only the most basic Fireball Technique, a fireball cast with a casual flick of the hand...

He remembered clearly that Mo Hua still had far more ferocious fireballs in store...

Meanwhile, Lord Qingchou wore a puzzled expression.

Just the Fireball Technique?

What was this Master up to?

Wasn't he a Fāngshì? He wasn't using Gu Arts, Curse Arts, Ritual Arts, Suppression Arts, or Jiangtou—none of those Fāng Arts.

What did he mean by using only the Fireball Technique?

Granted, this fireball was indeed different from ordinary Fireball Techniques, carrying a hint of something sinister. But a fireball was still just a fireball...

Or could it be that this Fireball Technique was the medium through which this black-robed Master cast his Fāng Arts?

Merging spells and Fāng Arts into one, using spells to confuse the enemy and Fāng Arts to strike when they least expect it, that was indeed a despicable tactic.

But... he had never heard of such a school within the Unorthodox Path...

Lord Qingchou didn't understand, but at this moment he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Killing that dog surnamed Gu was the priority.

Having someone help—even if it was just this somewhat peculiar Fireball Technique—was always a good thing.

Lord Qingchou's fangs parted slightly as he continued his assault on Gu Changhuai.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, provided support from the side with rapid-fire fireballs, applying pressure on Gu Changhuai.

Gu Changhuai's burden suddenly increased dramatically.

Back in the day when he handled cases and made arrests, he was always the one on the offensive, with Mo Hua providing support from the sidelines, using schemes and tricks to ensnare others.

Now the tables had turned, he himself was being ‘ensnared’ by Mo Hua's fireballs.

Only now did he deeply understand just how disgusting it was to be Mo Hua's opponent.

And even so, the current situation was the result of Mo Hua going easy on him.

Mo Hua's fireballs were cast quickly, accurately, and with considerable power.

But Gu Changhuai knew Mo Hua well. He knew that Mo Hua's Fireball Technique could certainly be faster, more accurate, and more vicious.

It was only because he was attacking this "Uncle Gù" that Mo Hua was holding back.

Otherwise, to say nothing else, at the very least, with Mo Hua's freakishly powerful Divine Sense Lock-On ability, if he truly locked onto him...

Gu Changhuai knew that he would absolutely be unable to escape this uncanny Fireball Technique.

And besides the Fireball Technique, Mo Hua had a whole arsenal of even more disgusting spells...

Gu Changhuai sighed.

No wonder back then at the Qianxue Grand Competition, so many people shouted that losing the duel was fine, but Mo Hua had to die.

At the time, he hadn't quite understood it, thinking the Qianxue prodigies were merely narrow-minded. But now, having personally fallen victim to Mo Hua's poisonous hand, he suddenly found himself able to empathize.

Indeed, without having suffered another's hardship, one should not urge them to be kind.

And with Mo Hua joining the fray, Gu Changhuai's situation indeed took a turn for the worse, the battle shifting rapidly against him.

Mo Hua's Fireball Technique was fast and accurate. Though each shot missed Gu Changhuai, they perfectly restricted his Movement Technique, sealing off his positioning like a cat toying with a mouse.

Add to that a mad dog like Lord Qingchou giving chase from behind.

Gu Changhuai was stretched thin, utterly disheveled, repeatedly exposing openings that allowed Lord Qingchou to close in, his life hanging by a thread.

Yet each time, under Mo Hua's spell crowd control, he would snatch a sliver of survival, narrowly escaping death.

Even for Gu Changhuai, resentment began to stir within.

Lord Qingchou, meanwhile, was overjoyed. Though the Black-Robed Master's Fireball Technique hadn't directly scored a hit, it had let him close in on Gu Changhuai's side several times.

He could even smell the savory scent of the Gu dog's flesh.

Stimulated by that scent, Lord Qingchou's killing intent surged. He couldn't help but cackle wildly, looking utterly deranged, blood even seeping through his Green-Hide Fierce-Bone Armor.

His attacks grew increasingly ferocious, as if he wished to slaughter Gu Changhuai on the spot.

After another hundred or so rounds of pursuit, Gu Changhuai grew ever more bedraggled, forced back repeatedly by the Fireball Technique and Lord Qingchou, until at last he could retreat no further—cornered into a narrow mountain hollow.

It was a dead end. Mountain walls enclosed him on both sides, while Lord Qingchou and Mo Hua blocked his front.

Having fled in panic, Gu Changhuai had stumbled into this dead corner with no room left to maneuver, his face dark and grim.

Lord Qingchou, however, was wild with glee, as if beholding a cornered lamb awaiting the slaughter.

Gu Changhuai cast a glance at Mo Hua in the distance, then his gaze turned resolute. Drawing a deep breath, he hesitated no longer and immediately drove the Seven-Colored Peacock Feathers Treasure Fan in his hand to its absolute limit.

Within his Dantian, Spiritual Power surged like crystalline fire, and a fine layer of radiance enveloped Gu Changhuai's body.

Then Spiritual Power erupted in an instant, whipping up a terrifying gale. Upon the gale, blades of wind lined up in dense ranks, as thick as phoenix feathers, a sight both gorgeous and steeped in murderous intent.

The Gu Clan's Ancestral Dao Art: Wind-Soaring Feather Transformation Secret Art.

(TN: Feathered Ascension / Yǔ Huà (羽化), Feather Transformation / Huà Yǔ (化羽); Same-Same, but different.)

Lord Qingchou's expression shifted drastically at the sight, a flicker of dread passing through him. He knew Gu Changhuai, cornered with no way out, was about to gamble everything on his trump card.

He had no idea where this Dao Art came from.

But from the blinding light of the Magical Treasure, the surging crystalline Spiritual Power, and the dense, spine-chilling Wind Blades, he could tell the destructive power of this Dao Art was terrifying.

So many Wind Blades, fine as rain—if they all struck his body, even a Peak Golden Core cultivator might not withstand it.

Yet Lord Qingchou was a bloodthirsty brute, seasoned in life-and-death combat, with an extraordinary nose for opportunity in battle.

The dread in his eyes lasted only a moment before being replaced by savage killing intent.

Lord Qingchou's eyes were shot through with blood vessels. His body moved like a wild beast, charging forward instead of retreating, fangs sprouting from his arms as he lunged for Gu Changhuai's heart.

The weaker a Dao Art, the faster it is cast. The more powerful, the slower.

Any superior Dao Art, or a killing move of great power, would inevitably take longer to cast.

Lord Qingchou knew all too well that against a cultivator of such superior heritage, one with a devastating killing move, the best approach was to kill him before he could unleash it.

All he needed was to split open Gu Changhuai's chest, tear out his heart, and take his life before the killing move could be completed, then the technique would naturally collapse on its own.

This was precisely why cultivators rarely resorted to their ultimate killing moves in spell duels.

Employing a great killing move always left a fatal opening. If it failed to strike down the enemy in one blow, it was the user who might end up losing their life.

And Lord Qingchou's judgment was razor-sharp.

Gu Changhuai, locked firmly in his grip, could never have enough time to execute a superior Dao Art.

Before his killing move could fully charge, Lord Qingchou would already have torn open his chest.

The situation erupted in an instant, life and death hung by a thread.

Gu Changhuai's Dao Art spread like a great green-winged roc taking flight, spiritual power scattering wildly, churning the entire mountain forest as if the very hills were being overturned.

Lord Qingchou's killing intent condensed to its absolute peak, his ghastly white fangs and hooked claws driving straight for Gu Changhuai's heart.

Gu Changhuai's Wind-Soaring Feathered Ascension Art had only gathered half its power.

But Lord Qingchou's savage fangs had already arrived ahead of schedule, poised to rip Gu Changhuai open from chest to belly.

A cruel smile had already spread across Lord Qingchou's face.

Yet at that critical moment, the black-robed master standing in the distance lending support suddenly changed his spell formula. The spiritual power in his palm shifted from fire to water, and he grabbed at empty air.

Almost simultaneously, six water-element chains materialized into a cage, binding Lord Qingchou's massive body in place.

Caught in the Water Prison, Lord Qingchou's forward charge came to an abrupt halt. Shock struck him first, he had no idea what was happening.

Then realization dawned: he had been schemed against by a treacherous scoundrel. Rage flooded his heart.

And then terror followed, because Gu Changhuai's Dao Art had condensed another step further.

His advantage was gone.

At the precipice of life and death, Lord Qingchou let out a thunderous roar. His body swelled, his golden core power spun to its limit, and in an instant he shattered the six Water Prison chains, desperately charging at Gu Changhuai once more.

But before he could break free, Mo Hua, standing in the distance, grabbed at the air again with his bare hand.

Six Water Prison chains descended from nowhere once more, locking Lord Qingchou in place.

Lord Qingchou's innate constitution was truly extraordinary, his physical body was formidable indeed. With another mighty struggle, he broke free of the six chains again.

But no matter how fast he broke free, it wasn't faster than Mo Hua's spellcasting.

The moment Lord Qingchou tore through the Water Prison, Mo Hua had already completed his spell formula ahead of time, and the Water Prison Technique, manifested as six chains, bound him once again.

This Water Prison Technique was simply too fast.

A dreadful chill ran down Lord Qingchou's spine. He had never imagined that anyone in this world could cast spells with such terrifying speed.

Just who... what kind of person was this...

Shock and fury warred within Lord Qingchou, and he threw himself into a desperate struggle, breaking through the third Water Prison as well.

But by the time he tore himself free, everything was already too late.

Though it was merely a control-type spell with no real destructive power, and had only held him for a breath or two, under ordinary circumstances it would have been utterly negligible.

But at a moment of life and death, that single breath or two was more than enough to cost a man his life.

Gu Changhuai's superior Dao Art, the Wind-Soaring Feather Transformation Secret Art, had reached full formation. His spiritual power surged like an ocean, feather blades dense as scales.

What Lord Qingchou saw in his terrified eyes was a wall of cyan-green, heaven-covering, earth-blanketing, airtight spell radiance.

Then Gu Changhuai, his face pale, gritted his teeth and moved his will.

The sky filled with phoenix-feather wind blades surged forward like a breached river, flooding overwhelmingly toward Lord Qingchou.

This was a dead end—a narrow space where Gu Changhuai could not flee, and in that brief moment, neither could Lord Qingchou.

At this critical juncture, Lord Qingchou could only cross his arms before his chest to shield his heart meridian.

Then his entire body was swallowed by the dense torrent of wind blades, relentlessly battered backward by the surging wind-attribute spiritual power.

His mortal flesh was sliced apart by the fine crystalline wind force.

A tremendous explosion and thunderous roar echoed through the entire ancient forest.

The Green-Faced followers and Dao Court Division cultivators who had been locked in battle all halted, their faces filled with shock as they scrambled to evade the aftershocks of this magnificent Dao Art.

The Qingchou Prefecture Realm was a small place, these bandits and mobs had never witnessed such devastating large-scale Dao Art power.

Even the Gu Clan comrades who had faced life and death alongside Gu Changhuai wore expressions of astonishment.

Deep within the ancient forest, that faint, elusive Divine Sense Thought Power probing briefly quieted.

Even Mo Hua, clad in his black robe, sighed inwardly.

This was also his first time seeing Uncle Gù at the Golden Core Realm fully unleash such a superior killing technique.

The might of a superior Dao Art was truly extraordinary.

Mo Hua felt a trace of envy in his heart.

Unfortunately, although he was a Spiritual Cultivator, restricted by his spiritual roots and the Heavenly Cycle Count of his cultivation method, he could only execute the rapidly circulating Minor Five Elements Spells—he could not unleash such large-scale superior offensive Dao Arts.

He did possess the Twelve Meridians Spiritual Skeleton, which solved the problem of spiritual power reserves.

But the Spiritual Skeleton currently only provided energy; it could not resolve the issue of the Heavenly Cycle Count inherent in his spiritual roots and cultivation method.

The Heavenly Cycle Count was the threshold for superior Dao Arts.

Mo Hua could not bypass this threshold, so he had to forge a different path, his spell style would inevitably differ from others.

Earlier in Houtu City, aside from simple sparring, he had not had many opportunities to cast spells.

Now that he was in the Great Spirit Field Realm, he could devote more time to research...

Mo Hua's mind stirred slightly, then he continued looking up.

The astonishing fluctuations lasted a full quarter-hour, until the spiritual power of the superior Dao Art, the Wind-Soaring Feather Transformation Secret Art, was completely expended.

The terrain of the surrounding ancient forest had been utterly warped, as if ravaged by a typhoon, everything on the surface had been ground to dust.

As for Lord Qingchou, he had been swept up by the torrential Wind-Soaring Feather Transformation Secret Art and blasted hundreds of zhang away.

Amid the twisted terrain, Lord Qingchou still maintained his standing posture with arms crossed, but his physical body had been shattered beyond recognition.

As if he had been sliced apart by countless fine wind blades in a slow execution.

The bone armor on his body had been dismembered into dust.

His green skin seemed to have been peeled away, the flesh beneath reduced to pulp, and his meridians appeared to have been pulverized.

Lord Qingchou's heart had clearly ceased beating, not a trace of breath remained in his body.

Like a puppet of earth and wood that had been flayed, he knelt half-crouched on the ground.

"Lord Qingchou... is dead..."

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened.

Gu Changhuai let out a long, ragged breath, his face deathly pale, his fingers trembling incessantly.

The Dao Court Division members, beyond their shock, all breathed sighs of relief, joy spreading across their faces.

"The leader... is dead..."

"Killed by the Dao Court's dogs?!"

The other Green-Faced followers were seized with terror, their legs going weak as they retreated, desperate to flee the area.

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter, they could only run.

The members of the Dao Court Division, exhausted from their desperate battle, were in no condition to stop them.

The situation was momentarily thrown into turmoil.

But at that very moment, Mo Hua's expression shifted slightly. He pressed two fingers together, condensing a fireball, and blasted it toward Lord Qingchou's corpse, which was like rotting flesh and decayed earth.

The crowd was startled by this, but what was even more shocking was yet to come.

Because after the fireball exploded, flames spread and Spiritual Power surged everywhere.

Yet Lord Qingchou's body did not fall. Instead, it began to stir with an unnatural movement.

First, within his flesh, a deep crimson-green blood began to flow slowly.

Inside his chest cavity, something also seemed to slowly squirm.

Then, an unknown rune-pattern began to glow, spreading little by little from within his chest to his entire body, repairing Lord Qingchou's bones, meridians, flesh and blood, and finally his skin...

Lord Qingchou, who had been executed by a thousand cuts through Wind Blades, thus slowly came back to life.

His throat sounded like a worn-out bellows, his voice thick and viscous, laced with astonishing fury:

"I died..."

"And died again..."

"And died once more..."

Mo Hua's pupils contracted slightly at these words.

Died once more?

This Lord Qingchou... had died many times before?

Then Mo Hua's gaze shifted, looking at Lord Qingchou's physical body.

That mysterious rune-pattern, which spread from the chest, slowly squirmed, repaired the entire body, and finally converged beneath the skin, flashed by and then merged back into the flesh, like a kind of...

Thread controlling a flesh-and-blood Puppet.

Or perhaps... a formation?

Mo Hua's pupils slowly dilated, and his heart jolted violently.

…

Translator Notes:

降头 — Jiangtou / Cursecraft: Southeast Asian folk-magic concept, particularly associated with curse/black-magic practices.

方术 — Occult Arts / Fāng Arts: Most probably, the translation will be Occult Arts, since it involves the Divine Dao of Kun Province, deities, and related concepts. However, I’ll keep it as Fāng Arts for a few more chapters to get a clearer picture.

(End of Chapter)