Chapter 1147: Dried Fish
The bright, bell-like eyes scanned the crowd of cultivators, searching for a familiar figure.
Almost at the same moment, the tall and imposing Young Lord Tuoba also sensed the tiger demon's abnormality. His expression immediately turned cold and severe, his gaze as sharp as a blade sweeping in Mo Hua's direction.
There was fury in that gaze.
Mo Hua could only lower his head even further and shift to stand behind a burly body-tempering cultivator.
In front of him, several noble scions and cultivators from the Great Wilderness were caught under Young Lord Tuoba's intense stare, their hearts filling with dread.
But they had no idea what had happened—so all they could do was clasp their hands in greeting, bowing even lower, their demeanor so respectful it bordered on groveling.
Young Lord Tuoba took in the scene, eyeing each of them—and naturally, he saw Mo Hua as well.
But Mo Hua was just a servant, holding a tray of tea with his head bowed, barely noticeable.
Young Lord Tuoba didn't spare him a second glance.
His attention remained on the few "distinguished" individuals in front of Mo Hua, scrutinizing them one by one.
Just then, the giant tiger seemed to catch sight of something. It let out a sudden roar, and its demonic energy burst out instinctively. The formation seals and chains that bound it began to tremble violently, as if it were about to break free.
The eight peak Foundation Establishment body cultivators couldn't restrain it at all.
Pulled around by the tiger, they staggered and swayed, their faces flushing red, and the stone tiles beneath their feet began to crack.
Young Lord Tuoba's face darkened. "You beast! Still unwilling to submit?!"
He drew a long whip with a tiger-head pattern, made of golden steel, and lashed it hard against the tiger's body.
That whip, nearly a half-spiritual artifact, gleamed with golden light and surged with force. When it struck the tiger, it immediately left a deep bloody welt.
The tiger demon roared in fury, wanting to lunge at Young Lord Tuoba.
The eight Foundation Establishment brutes paled. They pushed their blood essence to the limit, muscles bulging as they pulled hard on the chains, restraining the tiger's limbs.
Nearby Golden Core cultivators also stepped in, cold-faced, casting spells to suppress the tiger to the ground.
Young Lord Tuoba lashed the tiger a few more times, his voice a mix of frustration and rage:
"Ungrateful beast! This young lord gave you an opportunity, and you refuse to submit—dare to harbor malice against me? You deserve a beating!"
The golden steel whip fell again and again on the tiger's body.
The tiger demon refused to yield, but bound by chain after chain, formation upon formation, and suppressed by Foundation and Golden Core cultivators alike—it couldn't break free. Before long, it was beaten until its flesh was torn and blood flowed freely.
Mo Hua watched, his brow furrowing.
But Young Lord Tuoba was still not satisfied. He continued to whip the beast until it lay weakly on the ground, its ferocity completely gone. Only then did he finally put away the golden tiger-head whip and ordered:
"Take it away. Guard it well."
"Yes, sir!"
The eight Foundation Establishment brutes dragged the heavily wounded tiger demon out.
Just before being dragged away, the tiger opened its eyes slowly and glanced in Mo Hua's direction in a daze.
Its bell-like eyes trembled for a moment—then slowly shut once more.
The once-mighty tiger demon had been beaten into submission and taken away.
A long smear of blood remained on the ground.
The surrounding cultivators were silent as stone, not daring to make a sound.
Young Lord Tuoba was still seething. His gaze once again shifted—unintentionally—toward Mo Hua's direction, a trace of doubt surfacing in his heart:
"What did that tiger demon see... to act so out of character?"
"Normally, it's vicious and irritable—never has a good temper with anyone…"
A strange jealousy stirred in Young Lord Tuoba's heart.
But no matter how long he looked, he couldn't find a single cultivator in the crowd with a striking aura or extraordinary presence—none worthy of making even a demon king take notice.
The mystery gnawed at him, making him more irritable by the moment. His expression grew increasingly frightening.
Everyone present knew this Young Lord Tuoba had a volatile temper, and they dared not speak a word.
Moments later, Young Lord Tuoba let out a cold snort and said, "Let the beast battles begin."
Everyone breathed a subtle sigh of relief.
Everything proceeded as usual after that.
In the beast-fighting arena, the monsters began to clash, the air filling with the scent of blood.
Spurred on by the earlier outburst, the once-muted atmosphere gradually turned heated.
Seated in the highest position, Young Lord Tuoba watched coldly. Though he said nothing, his face clearly showed his displeasure.
Today was meant to be the day he "fought the tiger," "tamed the beast"—but the whole affair had gone up in smoke.
The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became. With a swing of his hand, he slapped one of the stewards in the face.
The steward clutched his cheek with a fawning smile, continuing to flatter Young Lord Tuoba without pause.
Mo Hua's gaze turned cold.
By day's end, the beast fights were over. The nobles departed, while the servants and slaves began cleaning up—putting away tables, collecting teapots, clearing the spectator stands, disposing of monster corpses and limbs, and scrubbing away the blood.
Mo Hua crouched low, cleaning the now-drying blood of the tiger demon from the ground.
No one noticed as he discreetly poured the bloodied water into a small vial.
Night fell. Darkness blanketed everything.
The servants and slaves went to sleep.
The beast-fighting arena fell into silence, save for the occasional, muffled roars of the caged monsters echoing in the dark.
Lying on his bed, Mo Hua opened his eyes.
He moved soundlessly as he leapt down, taking out a brazier, wolf bones, and ghostly phosphorus flames. Then, following the method of demon bone divination, he began a ritual. When the flames blazed and the wolf bones cracked, he placed the vial of tiger blood into the basin.
Within the flames, light and shadow twisted.
Causal threads appeared in Mo Hua's eyes.
Once the flames died out, the wolf bones were filled with fractures.
Mo Hua erased all traces of the ritual, then with a single gesture, unlocked the formation sealing the door. His figure gradually faded and vanished into the darkness.
In the dead of night, the beast-fighting arena's prison was pitch-black and eerily silent.
Mo Hua moved with practiced ease through the cells.
Having worked outside as a laborer and served tea inside, he'd long since memorized the prison's entire layout.
He passed through the outer cells, then the inner ones, until after several turns, he reached the end of the corridor—and stood before a solid wall.
In his causality vision, threads of blood passed through the wall, stretching far beyond.
Mo Hua released his divine sense and began deducing. In his mind, the formations locking down the area revealed themselves in full detail.
He visualized the entire formation layout.
With a swipe of his finger, he guided his brush with divine sense—silently unraveling the array.
A hidden door opened.
Mo Hua stepped in while concealed. The scent of demon blood grew stronger—identical to the smell from the tiger demon earlier that day.
He continued inward until he arrived at a special dungeon, engraved with totems.
The cell was heavily fortified, formation patterns etched all around, the bars forged from refined iron, and even the lock was a third-grade artifact. The cell was sealed tight.
The interior of the dungeon was still relatively spacious. Lying within was a massive tiger demon, its fur patterned in black and white.
The tiger's body was covered in scars.
Many of these wounds had already begun to scab over—whether due to medicine or its naturally robust blood and qi, it had a strong recovery ability.
At that moment, the great tiger simply lay there, eyes closed, seemingly having suffered much torment. Its spirit was clearly weakened.
Mo Hua watched in silence, an inexplicable pang of sympathy in his chest. He let out a soft sigh.
The sigh was incredibly faint—barely audible in the dim dungeon.
But the tiger demon suddenly jolted, lifting its head. Its bell-sized eyes were filled with confusion and suspicion, staring intently into the darkness ahead.
Yet in the shadows, there was nothing.
No one revealed themselves. No one spoke.
Gradually, disappointment filled the tiger's eyes.
Then, all of a sudden, something was tossed out of the darkness and landed before the tiger's head.
The tiger instinctively opened its mouth and caught it. Looking down, it realized—it was a dried fish.
At first stunned, the tiger suddenly lit up with excitement.
It let out two low roars toward the darkness.
But there was no further response. That familiar, faint presence gradually faded.
Whoever it was… had already gone.
The tiger stared blankly for a moment, then, holding the dried fish in its mouth, lay back down.
The fish was quite large, made from a big catch.
But the tiger now was even larger, so with it in its mouth, it still looked like nothing more than a "tiny snack."
The flavor of the dried fish was familiar—it tasted like childhood.
The tiger held the fish under its paw, sticking out its large tongue and slowly licking it, savoring the taste bit by bit.
As it licked, the tiger let out a soft whimper, lying on the ground with a look of sorrow and a hint of grievance on its face.
…
Mo Hua erased all traces, restored the formation, then retraced his steps back to his room, lying down on the bed, his mind already planning.
"I need to get the tiger out…"
But right now, it wouldn't be easy.
The beast-fighting arena itself didn't matter much.
It was merely a minor arena, guarded only by Golden Core cultivators. Most of its formations were second-grade, mixed with a few third-grade ones. To Mo Hua, they could be destroyed easily.
The issue was—what happens after?
The tiger demon was still a demon. The moment it appeared in an immortal city, it would be hunted by everyone.
And this was the fourth-grade immortal city of Great Desert City—a place with a large number of Golden Core cultivators and even fourth-grade Nascent Soul cultivators.
A few Golden Cores? Mo Hua could ignore.
A bunch of Golden Cores? Entirely different story.
And Nascent Soul cultivators? Let's not even talk about it.
The gap of two major realms… far too great. If they truly fought, he wouldn't even have a chance to retaliate.
Worse still, in a fourth-grade city like Great Desert City, Nascent Soul cultivators could fly at will. Surrounded by endless sand seas—there'd be no way to escape.
And then there was Young Lord Tuoba…
Mo Hua still didn't know his origins, but from the way he carried himself, it was obvious his background was anything but ordinary.
This beast-fighting arena was likely closely tied to him as well.
And this Young Lord Tuoba clearly had an intense interest in the tiger.
If the arena were blown apart and the tiger snatched from under his nose—it would no doubt lead to a fight to the death.
Killing Young Lord Tuoba…
One, it would be falling into a bloodthirsty path, attracting a fate of calamity.
Two, if he actually did kill Tuoba, it would surely provoke whatever terrifying power stood behind him—courting disaster.
This wasn't Qianxue Prefecture. This wasn't the Great Void Sect.
He was alone here—no backers, no sect. If he were targeted by one of the local powers of the Great Wilderness, he'd be in serious trouble.
"…This is going to be a pain."
Mo Hua sighed again.
Another issue—the tiger was just too big now.
Back when it was small, it was like a kitten.
If it were still kitten-sized, he could've just stuffed it in his robes and walked off with it.
But now? It was a massive beast, radiating fierce qi and monstrous pressure. Anywhere it went, it would cause panic.
Trying to sneak that out? Unless everyone was blind and deaf—not happening.
Mo Hua's brows furrowed slightly.
Getting the tiger out wouldn't be something that could be figured out overnight.
Until he came up with a plan, Mo Hua continued as usual—serving tea and waiting on the "nobles" in the inner arena every day.
Whenever he had free time, he quietly asked other servants about this "Young Lord Tuoba."
But all the servants looked at him in alarm:
"You dare ask about the Tuoba family?"
Seeing Mo Hua's confusion, one servant whispered:
"Tuoba… do you even know what that surname means?"
Mo Hua, of course, didn't.
Someone finally gave him a hint: "The head of a fourth-grade sect—the Great Wilderness Sect—has the surname Tuoba."
Mo Hua's heart stirred slightly. "So this Young Lord Tuoba… is a direct descendant of the sect master?"
No one responded.
All the servants went silent.
The slaves looked numb and expressionless, not wanting to say a word.
Mo Hua's heart sank. He stopped asking.
If Young Lord Tuoba was truly the sect master's heir of the Great Wilderness Sect, this situation had just gotten even more complicated.
A fourth-grade sect directly subordinate to the Dao Court, stationed in the Great Wilderness, holding the local royal family in check.
These dominant sects in remote regions often held lawless power over their territories—definitely not to be trifled with.
All he could do now was wait for the right opportunity.
A few days later, the steward suddenly came looking for Mo Hua.
"Tomorrow—would you be willing to serve Young Lord Tuoba?"
Mo Hua blinked. "Young Lord Tuoba?"
The steward nodded. "Out of all the servants, you're the most meticulous and diligent. That's why I'm promoting you—giving you this opportunity."
"Young Lord Tuoba is the true master. If you serve him well and win his favor, he might grant you a steward's position someday. You could change your fate and rise to greatness…"
Mo Hua's eyes flickered with subtle ambition. He asked, "Steward, what will I need to do?"
The steward replied, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just keep doing what you've been doing. And remember the golden rule: don't listen, don't ask, don't interfere. Just pretend you're a block of wood."
Mo Hua pretended to consider it. A moment later, a glint of hidden ambition flashed in his eyes as he nodded:
"…Alright."
The steward noticed the ambition in Mo Hua's gaze and shook his head with a faint smile. Then he said:
"Tomorrow, you'll report for duty before Young Lord Tuoba."
His tone carried a hint of appreciation and hope.
That evening, Mo Hua returned to the servants' quarters. With a sweep of his divine sense, he immediately noticed that two people were missing.
Following the faint traces of their auras, he found their thin, shriveled corpses tossed beside a pile of beast remains awaiting disposal.
Both corpses bore palm marks on their faces.
The blows had been delivered with such force that their skulls were shattered, and their necks snapped clean through.
The method was… familiar.
Mo Hua vaguely recalled that just a few days ago, Young Lord Tuoba had slapped a steward in precisely the same way.
The difference was, that steward had higher cultivation and got away with just a flattering smile.
These two Qi Refining-level servants, however, were slapped to death. Their corpses discarded like trash.
Mo Hua's expression turned cold and indifferent.
...
The next day, following the steward's instructions, Mo Hua went to serve under Young Lord Tuoba.
Of course, "serve" was merely a euphemism—it meant standing nearby, waiting upon the master, watching for cues, pouring tea, and nothing more.
Young Lord Tuoba didn't even spare him a glance.
Which told Mo Hua everything he needed to know: that steward's talk had been complete nonsense, a fantasy spun with pretty words.
Tuoba had killed two servants in a rage. And now Mo Hua was filling the vacancy.
As for being "recognized," "promoted to steward," or "rising to glory"—what a joke.
Young Lord Tuoba probably wouldn't even remember his face.
If he really was just another "servant," then surviving in Tuoba's presence without getting slapped to death was already a stroke of tremendous luck.
Servants weren't people—they were disposable.
Like the cups and dishes used to serve fruit and wine. Break one, toss it, replace it.
Still, the rare chance to get close to Tuoba wasn't without its value.
Mo Hua stood silently to the side, motionless, utterly discreet. He exuded no presence whatsoever, as if he didn't exist.
What surprised him, however, was that today, Young Lord Tuoba seemed different.
He wasn't spectating beast duels as usual—instead, he was hosting a banquet.
The banquet hall used was the most luxurious one available.
The wine and dishes served were the finest quality.
Every arrangement was at the highest possible level.
And arrogant as Tuoba usually was, he seemed to regard this banquet with great seriousness.
Mo Hua's heart stirred with curiosity.
"Who on earth is this Young Lord Tuoba entertaining?"
His eyes flickered, and he calmed his breath, silently watching from the side.
Wine, delicacies, and spirit beast meat had all been laid out neatly.
After about half an hour, guests arrived at the gate.
A short, stocky Golden Core cultivator and a tall, thin Foundation Establishment cultivator entered and greeted Tuoba.
The pudgy Golden Core cupped his hands. "Greetings, Young Lord Tuoba."
Tuoba nodded.
The tall, thin Foundation Establishment cultivator had a sinister, resolute expression and a faint madness in his gaze. He also bowed in greeting—but said nothing.
Tuoba glanced at him without comment.
But Mo Hua, standing quietly to the side, froze.
This tall, thin cultivator… looked so familiar.
Where had he seen him before?
Mo Hua frowned, wracking his memory, combing through vague and fragmented recollections.
Suddenly, a jolt shot through his heart. He remembered.
"It's him…"
Li San?!
Back in the Qianxue Prefecture, when opposing the Demonic Sect—this was the very same elite disciple who had been tricked by Mo Hua using the Thunder-Magnetic Token and the forged identity of "Elder You."
Li San had traded a second-grade Reverse Spirit Array Diagram and personally delivered it.
Li San.
"But… why is it Li San?!"
Mo Hua was shaken, full of confusion.
"Wasn't he captured and thrown into the Dao Prison? How did he get out?"
"And why would he travel thousands of miles, all the way from Qianxue Prefecture to the Great Wilderness?"
"And that pudgy Golden Core elder by his side—who is he…?"
Mo Hua glanced at the man and confirmed—he had never seen him before.
And yet… something about him felt familiar.
As if this man had once shared countless strands of karmic fate with him.
This man… could it be?
Mo Hua furrowed his brows, deep in thought—then a strange name surfaced in his mind.
His heart trembled.
Could it be…?
Elder You?
The same Elder You from the Demonic Sect back in Qianxue?
The one with a silver tongue and smooth dealings?
The one who'd hired him via transmission token to handle Thunder-Magnetic business?
The one who still owed him… 1.8 million spirit stones?
(End of this Chapter)