Chapter 1145: Desert City
"Da Hu and the others…"
Mo Hua's heart stirred as memories of growing up with them surfaced—wandering the markets, watching plays, chatting idly about anything and everything…
He remembered those three brothers stealing the elder's golden pheasant, roasting it, and sneaking it over for him to eat.
He remembered them standing up for him in fights, shielding him.
He remembered their first time going to the Black Mountain to hunt beasts, coming back bloodied… all to bear the burden of life.
Warmth and sorrow mingled in Mo Hua's heart.
It had already been years since he last saw the three brothers.
Seeing Mo Hua's expression, the boatmaster asked, "You're wondering if you could join the Great Wilderness Sect, aren't you?"
Mo Hua's gaze flickered. "Could I?"
The boatmaster shook his head. "You, kid, might be born with natural strength and show a bit of talent for body cultivation—but you're already over twenty. That's past the age for foundational cultivation. Your cultivation age isn't suitable."
"Besides, do you know what kind of sect the Great Wilderness Sect is? It's a proper Fourth-Grade Sect, directly under the Dao Court—a powerful sect that keeps the Wildlands' royal clans in check."
"No background, no top-tier spiritual roots, no heavenly luck… how could someone even dream of entering?"
"As for you…" The boatmaster gave Mo Hua a long look and shook his head. "Even if your physique's decent, your spiritual roots aren't. No chance."
Mo Hua just smiled, unfazed.
He had been rejected by so many sects back in Qianxue Prefecture that he'd long come to terms with it. He knew well that with his background and mediocre spiritual roots, he couldn't cross the threshold of any major sect.
Which only made the Great Void Sect's kindness toward him even more precious.
But suddenly, Mo Hua's expression shifted slightly—something didn't add up.
No background, no top-tier spiritual roots…
So how had the three brothers—Da Hu and the others—been accepted into the Great Wilderness Sect?
They were the same as him: rogue cultivators. Their spiritual roots were only slightly better—mid-grade at best, and nothing rare in the cultivation world.
Why would an elder of the Great Wilderness Sect choose them as disciples?
A strange unease crept into Mo Hua's chest.
But he didn't know enough about the Great Wilderness Sect's internal affairs to draw any conclusions.
He turned to look at the boatmaster again. The man's face was red and black from cheap liquor, but he had a carefree strength about him.
Mo Hua couldn't help asking, "Aren't you worried?"
"Worried about what?" the boatmaster replied.
"If the barbarian army from the Wildlands reaches Desert City, the whole surrounding region will be swept up in war. The casualties will be massive."
The boatmaster waved dismissively. "Too far."
"Too far? You mean the war?"
"No," the boatmaster took another swig of liquor and said slowly, "We poor cultivators live one day at a time. In this sea of sand, we could die at any moment. Sometimes, you're just too tired—lie down in bed and die without knowing why."
"Today you're still breathing, but you might not see tomorrow's sun."
"So whether the barbarians come or not… it doesn't change the fact that death is always near. That's why I say, it's too far to worry about."
"Not to mention…" A strange, almost satisfied smile spread across the boatmaster's face.
"If the barbarians do come, they won't discriminate. They'll kill everyone—us poor folk, and those pampered rich kids too."
"We have nothing, so death might even be a release."
"But those spoiled nobles, born in luxury—if they die, that's true despair."
"Thinking about it that way, I don't feel like I'm losing. If anything, I think I'm winning."
His weathered face twisted into a smile, though it was unclear whether it was numbness… or liberation.
Mo Hua stayed silent.
The wind carried sand from afar. Coarse grains scoured his cheeks, sharp and inescapable, like life's inevitable pain.
Just then, the sandship jolted violently.
The boatmaster leapt up, cursing, "Damn it, hit something again…"
Turning to Mo Hua, he shook his head. "You see? That's life. If the barbarians don't kill you, the desert will."
He rushed to the front of the ship and checked everything. Turns out the hull had scraped against a reef hidden in the sand sea. Relieved, he shouted orders and gathered people for repairs—chaos erupted.
Mo Hua remained on the deck, gazing at the endless dunes and the lives struggling to survive within them. He let out a soft sigh.
The rest of the journey was mostly smooth.
The only major incident was an ambush by a large band of sand bandits—around thirty of them.
The earlier scattered bandits were just scouts.
When they reached a narrow silt pass, the real ambush closed in.
A few words were exchanged, but peace was clearly never an option. Battle erupted immediately.
For the boatmaster, it was a grueling and dangerous fight.
The fate of the sandship—and everyone aboard—was at stake. He dared not slack in the slightest. His hands were trembling.
Mo Hua, however, remained calm.
Because the strongest among the bandits was only at the mid Foundation Establishment stage.
If this were the past, he could've wiped them out alone.
But now… he was cultivating discipline. Holding back.
So this bronze-skinned body cultivator, Mo Hua, looked no different from the other Qi Refining shiphands. He swung his staff and engaged the enemy head-on.
Fist to flesh. Legs whipping like wind. His staff moved like a blur, airtight in defense, bashing the bandits into swollen, broken messes.
Mo Hua, for the first time, fully experienced what it meant to be a "body cultivator."
Though the battle was low-tier, it felt invigorating.
Of course, he held back—just enough to cripple the bandits' joints and meridians with internal force.
The rest was left to the ship's guards and other hands to finish the job.
After a bloody fight, all the bandits were wiped out.
The mid-stage Foundation Establishment leader was secretly caught in Mo Hua's Water Prison Technique and, amidst the chaos, had his leg sliced open by a Golden Blade Technique. Afterward, the boatmaster and several guards encircled and killed him.
Just like that, the battle ended.
The boatmaster was overjoyed.
When the bandits appeared, he had braced for tragedy.
But unexpectedly, they won. Not only that—no one on their side died.
It felt like divine protection.
He ordered the bandits' Storage Rings collected, dismantled all their ships, and threw the remaining prisoners into the sand sea.
These ferrymen didn't enjoy killing—but letting the bandits live was asking for future trouble. The desert would deal with them.
After that, the boatmaster threw a small celebration.
Nothing extravagant—just a few spirit stones, some dried meat, and a jug of throat-burning strong liquor for each shiphand.
Their spoils of war.
The workers were ecstatic, faces glowing in the firelight.
During the feast, the boatmaster threw an arm around Mo Hua's shoulder and praised his "heroics" from earlier:
"So young, but brave and bold—not afraid, not hesitant. That's impressive!"
"Only thing is… you weren't ruthless enough."
"There were a few times—your staff could've easily skewered someone, but you held back."
"In life-and-death fights, that hesitation is fatal. Next time—don't flinch. If they need killing, kill!"
"You're just too young, haven't killed enough yet… That's all."
"Come on, drink!"
Mo Hua raised his cup and gave a helpless, bitter smile.
After the battle and a near-death celebration feast, the mood on the ship was lively and carefree. Despite the cheap food and liquor, everyone wore a look of genuine satisfaction.
But the feast didn't last long.
After all, they were still sailing in the treacherous sand sea. Everyone on board was a worker—they still had a ship to run.
Soon after, the sandship resumed its journey, heading toward Desert City.
The largest wave of bandits had been taken care of. As long as they stayed cautious around stray sand beasts, the rest of the journey would likely be uneventful.
Though the skies remained filled with swirling yellow sand and the environment was harsh, everyone's mood gradually lightened.
In the distance, the grand silhouette of Desert City was beginning to emerge from the storm.
But just then—the sandship came to a halt.
The boatmaster went to investigate and soon discovered the problem: a section of the ship's bottom had broken open.
No one knew exactly when it had happened. It might've been during a collision with hidden reefs… or a beast's sharp beak… or even the earlier battle with the sand bandits.
The damage was small—so subtle that no one noticed until now.
But on such a long journey, even the smallest flaw was bound to grow. And now, right before reaching their destination… the ship was broken.
Worse yet, it seemed to be slowly sinking.
There were no other sandships nearby to help.
And even if another ship passed by, its passenger limit wouldn't allow them to save everyone.
The cultivators on board were visibly panicking.
Even the boatmaster wore a worried expression and forced a bitter smile. "Sure enough… whenever your luck gets too good, misfortune comes knocking hard."
Mo Hua thought for a moment and offered, "Captain, how about I check under the ship?"
The boatmaster looked at him. "You…?"
Mo Hua said, "I know a little about array formations. I might be able to patch it up."
The boatmaster was clearly skeptical. "You… know arrays?"
A body cultivator… learning formations? Do body cultivators even have the brains for that?
Mo Hua nodded. "Have to get by(survive) somehow, that means learning a bit of everything."
The boatmaster didn't know what to say.
Array formations—could you really learn those just to "get by"…?
Still, at this point, he had no better options. And over the course of the journey, he had come to respect Mo Hua and knew he wasn't someone who talked big.
"…Alright, go take a look," the boatmaster sighed.
Mo Hua nodded and headed down to the hidden cabin beneath the ship—the one containing the core formation array.
The boatmaster followed.
Some others wanted to go too, but the boatmaster stopped them.
Normally, outsiders weren't allowed near this part of the ship. The secrecy was to protect the core formation from being leaked.
Once at the hidden chamber, the boatmaster used a jade key to unlock the secret door.
The sandship's core formation array lay fully exposed before Mo Hua.
He studied it, nodding slightly.
There was one thing he didn't say:
The crack at the ship's bottom… was caused by him.
He needed to stop the ship to inspect and repair the formation.
And to test whether the array he'd derived using the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm had any flaws.
Of course, it wasn't exactly sabotage.
The ship had been used for years and had survived countless hardships. Even if he hadn't touched it, it would've likely broken within two or three more voyages.
Better to break it now—while he could still help fix it.
Otherwise, if it failed on a future trip when he wasn't around… the boatmaster and his crew might all end up buried in the desert.
Living was hard for rogue cultivators. But dying… was far too easy.
Mo Hua let out a quiet sigh and turned his focus to the array.
With the ship's core formation now fully visible, Mo Hua's sharp eyes scanned every inch of the weathered structure.
In one eroded corner of the array diagram, he spotted a line of annotated text.
It named the formation used by the ship to cross the sand sea:
"Flat Sands Array."
Mo Hua silently memorized the name. After a brief assessment of the formation, he said, "Captain, don't worry. I've got this one."
The boatmaster was still unsure. But at this point, all he could do was believe. He said:
"Then I'll…"
Mo Hua said, "I'll need some time."
The boatmaster nodded and left Mo Hua alone in the hidden chamber, standing guard at the door himself.
That was the rule.
In the Sandsea Crossing Guild, whenever a formation master drew arrays, no one was allowed to observe—lest the array be leaked.
The boatmaster knew this.
Even though Mo Hua was just a hired laborer, the moment he became a formation master, he deserved respect.
And the boatmaster wasn't worried about sabotage.
They were all on the same ship. If it sank—they'd all die together.
Mo Hua spent about an incense stick's worth of time repairing the array, then sealed the chamber and walked out.
"All done," he said.
The boatmaster blinked. "That's it?"
Mo Hua nodded. "Try setting sail."
Still doubtful, the boatmaster did as instructed. He raised the sail, placed the spirit stones…
Suddenly, a bright glow surged from the formation beneath the ship. Like a fish leaping from the water, the sandship shot forward through the desert—faster than before.
The boatmaster was stunned and overjoyed.
The entire crew and passengers broke into wide grins.
With the wind at their backs, the boatmaster focused on steering. Less than an hour later, they reached Desert City.
Its high walls loomed magnificently above the sand.
Countless sandships were docked at the port—large and small.
The boatmaster's ship was among the least conspicuous of them.
But to him, it was everything—his livelihood, his life.
Only when the ship finally docked, far away from the perilous desert, did the boatmaster's heart finally settle.
And then—he suddenly remembered something.
He searched the crowd for a long time… but Mo Hua was nowhere to be seen.
He asked around—no one had seen him.
That lean, sharp-featured, bright-eyed young man… it was as if he'd vanished into thin air, leaving not even a trace behind.
The boatmaster's face froze in shock.
The other crew members glanced at each other.
"Now that you mention it… we haven't seen him since he fixed the formation."
"…You don't think he fell into the sand sea, do you?"
"Don't talk nonsense…"
"Then where is he? How did he just vanish?"
"Could it be that he's…"
The boatmaster's face grew grim as he ordered in a low voice, "No one is to speak of this. If you do, don't expect to work with me again."
All the boatmen immediately fell silent, not daring to utter another word.
The group stayed at the docks outside Desert City for a few days to rest, but they never entered the city itself. Poor rogue cultivators like them weren't permitted entry—and even if they were, they barely had a few spirit stones between them. Going in would be pointless.
Their job was just to ferry others to Desert City.
This grand immortal city was not a place they could call home.
A few days later, they picked up some scattered passengers and headed back toward Great Wind Crossing via the same route.
Perhaps it was because the sandship was more stable now—or maybe even faster—but the return trip was surprisingly smooth.
Once back at Great Wind Crossing, the boatmaster, still feeling uneasy, sought out an old master craftsman from the shipwright's guild to inspect the sandship.
This old master had worked in the guild for 150 years. Stubborn but honest, he was deeply respected.
He dismantled the boatmaster's sandship with a critical eye, grumbling the whole way—this part's worn out, that part's weathered—until his gaze landed on the array inscribed into the ship.
He froze.
His eyes went wide with shock.
"This… this formation… where did it come from?"
The boatmaster's heart skipped a beat. He asked quietly, "This formation… how is it?"
He had never drawn a single array rune in his life—he knew absolutely nothing about formations.
The old master took a deep breath and finally said, voice trembling:
"This is… a high-tier Second Grade array. Many of the big sandships in the shipwright's fleet don't even have one this good. Take care of it—if nothing goes wrong, this thing can keep you fed for the next fifty or sixty years."
The boatmaster's head buzzed. He stood there in a daze.
He tried to recall Mo Hua's face… but for some reason, it was already blurry in his memory. He couldn't even remember what the young man had said or what they'd talked about.
"This was… an encounter with an expert…" he muttered, visibly shaken.
"What?" the old master asked.
"Nothing," the boatmaster replied, shaking his head.
The old master didn't press. He only gave a serious warning:
"This matter—I'll take it to the grave. But you'd best not talk about it either. Otherwise, you know how the saying goes: 'A man's wealth is his own undoing…'"
The boatmaster quickly said, "Yes, thank you, Master."
The old man nodded, gave him a few more words of advice, and then left.
The boatmaster remained, staring at the array lines etched onto his sandship—so intricate, so profound—lost in thought for a long time.
That evening, the boatmaster made a rare trip to a tavern.
This time, he broke his usual habit and bought half a bottle of good liquor.
He walked to the edge of the sand sea and looked out over the vast desert. Then, he poured the precious wine into the sand—wine he could never bear to drink before—and whispered softly:
"Little brother, your kindness is beyond repaying."
"This humble wine… is my small wish for your smooth and safe journey ahead…"
A boatmaster and a stranger, worlds apart—and yet from the shore of the desert, he offered a distant blessing.
...
At that very moment, the "little brother" receiving the blessing was busy laboring away in Desert City.
The moment the sandship docked, Mo Hua vanished without a trace.
He slipped away quietly and found an opportunity to sneak into the city.
And Desert City—worthy of being called a Fourth-Grade Immortal City—was absolutely massive.
Located on the edge of the Wildlands, it was the only city of its kind for thousands of miles. Its walls were tall, its grounds vast. From a distance, layer upon layer of palace towers stretched out endlessly, all built in the wild and rugged style of the Great Wilderness.
It was nothing like the Qianxue Prefecture.
Qianxue, though a Fifth-Grade Prefecture, was packed with powerful families and sects. Land was scarce, so its immortal cities were delicate and refined—but never sprawling. They had none of the sheer scale or extravagance of Desert City.
Because of this, Desert City was just like the desert itself—boundless, immeasurable.
Trying to find a single "Big Tiger" here was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Mo Hua also found himself puzzled.
This was a grand immortal city, home to cultivators. Would such a city really allow a tiger demon to roam freely? Especially a powerful one?
Aside from the Big Tiger, Mo Hua also considered going to the Great Wilderness Sect itself to inquire about Da Hu and his brothers.
But after some thought… he decided against it.
His current identity was special, and his fate was dangerous. If he got close to them, he might drag them down.
Besides, Da Hu and the others came from humble beginnings—it likely wasn't easy for them to survive in the Great Wilderness Sect as it was.
So Mo Hua could only remain in disguise, hiding in the city, gathering intel.
He searched for clues about Big Tiger, while also discreetly investigating the larger conflict between the Dao Court and the Great Wilderness—the Dao soldiers and the barbarian armies, and the state of their war.
After a few days, he gained some understanding of the war in the Wildlands.
And finally, he picked up a clue about Big Tiger:
"The Beast Fighting Arena."
Apparently, deep within Desert City, there existed a vast underground coliseum… where beasts battled.
(End of this Chapter)