Chapter 708: Incense and Offerings
Beside the Yan Shui River.
Mo Hua had locked eyes with that "Young Lord" within the black mist for just a single moment.
Then, the ornate pleasure boat drifted back into the gloomy night and gradually vanished from sight.
Mo Hua's gaze grew deep. He silently committed those crimson eyes to memory, then continued walking along the riverbank, returning to the sect.
The journey thereafter was uneventful.
Half a day later, Mo Hua returned to the sect and first reported to Elder Song, who was in charge of attendance, explaining the reasons for his leave.
To Mo Hua's surprise, the normally strict and unsympathetic Elder Song was unexpectedly cordial—he even looked a little... proud.
It seemed Mo Hua's leave of absence had been extremely "well-used," earning Elder Song some face.
Mo Hua was baffled.
After leaving Elder Song, he went to pay respects to Venerable Elder Xun.
He understood clearly—Elder Song was only being lenient because of Venerable Xun's influence.
No other disciple would ever be allowed to take so much leave.
Within the elder's hall, Venerable Xun was preoccupied with something, his expression grave. He only asked Mo Hua a few simple questions before turning back to his matters, though his gaze lingered on Mo Hua for a moment—deep and pensive.
Mo Hua felt slightly puzzled, but seeing that Venerable Xun was busy, he didn't dare disturb him. He respectfully said,
"Elder, this disciple takes his leave."
Venerable Xun nodded and gave the usual instructions:
"Cultivate well. Study the art of formations. Keep your heart free of distractions."
"Yes."
Mo Hua answered solemnly, saluted, and took his leave.
Venerable Xun watched him go, frowning for a long time before finally pulling his thoughts back.
"Mo Hua... I'll ask more about this child later when time allows."
Right now…
Venerable Xun lowered his gaze to the desk in front of him.
On the table were three items: a Heavenly Secrets Compass, a regional map, and a jade slip.
The Heavenly Secrets Compass: used to peer into karma and fate.
The map displayed a massive spiritual ore mountain range, winding through Qianxue Prefecture and nearby territories like a dragon formed of pure spiritual energy.
On the map, four characters were noted:
"Qianlong Mountain Range."
The jade slip showed the current ranking of sects across Qianxue Prefecture:
the Four Great Sects, Eight Grand Gates, Twelve Streams, and the hundreds of smaller sects collectively known as the Qianxue Hundred Schools.
These rankings were determined through the Dao Debates, most notably the grand and prestigious Qianzhou Sword Debate Assembly.
The compass determined fate.
The jade slip and map decided fame and fortune.
And the future of the Great Void Sect... hinged on these three things.
But now, the Heavenly Secrets Compass was shrouded in mist. Karma couldn't be divined. The future was unclear.
The other two... could also be at risk.
"The heavens may yet brew unforeseen storms."
Venerable Xun looked out the window.
Outside, Mount Taixu remained as always—ancient, tranquil, its pavilions and towers nestled among lush forests.
Disciples cultivated diligently. Elders preached and taught.
Misty clouds floated through the mountains.
Everything seemed peaceful—time itself untroubled.
But beneath the surface… turbulent undercurrents were likely already surging.
"Misfortune and fortune come unannounced. Sects rise and fall. Those who thrive are forged in hardship; those who perish are lulled by comfort."
"If we don't make preparations now, the threat to the sect's survival—though it may seem distant—could descend in the blink of an eye."
Venerable Xun's heart was already tinged with a faint sense of crisis.
Outside the Great Void Sect... killing intent lurked.
"But where… exactly, is that killing intent coming from?"
"And how is the Great Void Sect to break through this crisis?
How do we grasp a sliver of survival amidst this miasma of corruption and evil intent…"
He looked toward the time-honored, majestic Great Void Sect, and his brow furrowed tighter still. His aged face was as grave as a mountain.
...
Qian Prefecture — A Certain Forbidden Area
In a sinister, shadowy chamber.
Mister Tu's expression was terrifyingly dark.
Beneath the great altar, under a mountain of white bones, flickered a strange green flame. It cast his face in a demonic light—ghastly and cruel like a ghost.
His voice was full of fury—and deep, gnawing fear.
"The River God has vanished…"
"The avatar of the Divine Lord has disappeared."
"The altar was destroyed."
"The blood-soaked fishing village… someone dug it up from top to bottom…"
"The Divine Lord's claws have fallen into enemy hands…"
An eerie, terrifying divine punishment descended upon him—
the chamber filled with rage and evil will.
Mister Tu fell prostrate, trembling violently. He gritted his teeth so hard that blood oozed from his gums.
His limbs contorted unnaturally. Beads of cold sweat rolled from his brow like rain. His voice shook.
"Divine Lord… please forgive me…"
"I've already found some clues… I…"
He coughed up blood—unable to speak further.
The wrath of divine punishment began to subside. The pressure eased slightly.
Mister Tu coughed up more blood, then continued: "It's the Great Void Sect…"
"The arts of heavenly secrets have faded in Qian Prefecture. The divine path formations have long vanished. Many old sects are either obsessed with fame or too cowardly to act…"
"They rob the weak to nourish the strong. Indulge in desire but forget the heart. The path of divine intent is in steep decline."
"Only the Great Void Sect still retains remnants of the sword path fused with divine intent."
"The Great Void Sect…"
His eyes turned distant, ancient memories surfacing.
"Hundreds of years ago, it was the same. As soon as the River God Temple was built and the altar activated, it was discovered by a Golden Core genius sword cultivator from the Great Void Sect."
"That man had cultivated the path of divine intent into sword. His sword arts were close to mastery—and he nearly…"
A flicker of fear appeared in Mister Tu's eyes.
"...He nearly destroyed the avatar embryo of the Divine Lord and ruined the River God Temple altar, causing a century of work to go up in smoke."
"At the last moment, the Divine Lord unleashed his divine might, crushed that man's Dao heart, and shattered his natal sword."
"But the events at the River God Temple… still left behind karma."
"Now, centuries later, the temple has been discovered again. But this time is different. The person involved works in the shadows, with extreme caution, leaving no trace—silent, invisible."
"And their divine sense is horrifyingly powerful—brutal and merciless when wielding divine intent in killing…"
"The River God… and the undying avatar of the Divine Lord… have both…"
Mister Tu's heart shuddered. He dared not finish the sentence.
He could sense that the Divine Lord's will in the secret chamber had grown colder, more terrifying. But since it hadn't turned on him, he finally dared to speak again:
"This was no coincidence!"
"Hundreds of years ago, it was a sword cultivator from the Great Void Sect who stormed the River God Temple. Now, centuries later, the nightmare has been shattered, and the temple lies in ruins. The cause and effect… most likely still traces back to the Great Void Sect!"
A cold glint flickered in Mister Tu's eyes.
"To have discovered the hidden entrance to the fishing village... to have approached the River God Temple unharmed... to have entered the Divine Lord's nightmare… to have slain countless nightmare fiends… and even dared—"
To slay the River God and the Divine Lord's avatar…
Mister Tu paused, then continued solemnly:
"…this person is, with high probability, a sword cultivator of the Great Void Sect, someone whose sword path has matured in recent years. Maybe even one of the reclusive monsters hidden deep in the rear mountains…"
"They want to avenge that peerless sword cultivator from centuries ago—the one whose Dao heart was shattered and sword broken!"
"Even if this person isn't a true inheritor of the Great Void Sect, they must be closely tied to it. One who cultivates divine intent into sword, walks the path of unity between sword and spirit."
"And perhaps… not just the Great Void Sect…"
Mister Tu's heart trembled again, as if he had thought of an ancient, colossal, and forbidden sword inheritance—a three-school fusion. Terror flickered deep in his eyes.
"Tai'a—Forgers of Divine Swords.
Chongxu—Refiners of Sword Qi.
Taixu—Transmuters of Sword Intent…"
NOTE: Taixu or Tai Xu is Great Void.
With each name, Mister Tu grew more afraid. By the end, sword intent seemed to pierce through his very limbs, making his hands and feet tremble slightly. He dared not continue.
He finally knelt devoutly before the massive, twisted white bone altar topped with ram horns.
"The Great Void Sect… is the root of rebellion."
"Gu Changhuai and the Gu Clan… are accomplices to evil."
"The plan must move forward ahead of schedule…"
"Let the declining sects perish. Let the old lineages die out. Anyone who dares obstruct the Divine Lord's grand design shall fall into eternal damnation."
"The stairway of blood and flesh has been laid.
The savage hounds of sin are being raised.
The Divine Lord's grand design is inevitable.
And His descent… is near at hand."
And then, the bloodline of the Great Wilderness shall rise again…
Mister Tu bowed until his forehead touched the ground. Blood and tears mixed in his eyes—filled with unwavering devotion.
...
Several Days Later — The Fishing Village
After Mo Hua and the others left, agents of the Dao Court Division arrived to handle the aftermath. Following Mo Hua's instructions, anything related to the evil deity was completely destroyed.
Gu Changhuai made an exception: he had the fishing village's cultivators registered as official cultivators, affiliating them under a nearby second-rank Immortal City.
This way, if anything happened, the Dao Court would offer protection.
The Gu Clan also notified nearby major and minor families—strictly forbidding them from bullying or exploiting the fishing village cultivators.
Life gradually improved for the villagers.
Still, during moments of rest while fishing, they would sometimes recall fragments of lingering nightmares.
"Strangest thing… I kept having dreams back then. Every few days I'd dream I was fishing, and then drowned—or got eaten by some water demon. I'd wake up drenched in sweat…"
"I dreamed I starved to death, and woke up feeling even hungrier…"
"Mine was the boat getting overturned by waves, then a bunch of water demons fighting over who got to eat me. Still hurts thinking about it…"
Someone sighed: "I dreamed that the wife I nearly sold everything I owned to marry… was taken away by someone…"
Everyone looked sympathetic—then froze.
"Wait. Don't you not have a wife?"
The fisherman scowled.
"It was a dream, okay? A dream! Why take it seriously?"
"Fake or not, it felt real. That pain? Real!"
No one had a comeback for that one.
Then someone got serious, their face pale with lingering fear:
"Actually… I dreamed of something even scarier."
Everyone turned to him. He swallowed hard, eyes filled with lingering dread:
"I saw a giant fish monster. Its head was the size of a temple, whiskers as thick as tree trunks, fangs as white as bone, blood dripping all over. It was terrifying—just eating people left and right. I almost got eaten…"
Several people immediately turned pale.
"What's wrong?"
"…I saw that fish monster too."
"Same here! Scared me so bad I didn't dare say anything."
"Me too. I was afraid it was bad luck to mention it. If it's real and I speak of it—what if it comes for me?"
"Didn't it die? What are you scared of?"
"How do you know it died?"
"I saw it in my dream!"
"Funny. I didn't see it die."
"Well I did…"
Voices clashed. Some claimed to have seen the monster die. Others didn't. No consensus.
One man snorted, clearly enjoying the drama, and embellished:
"Tsk, none of you had the fortune to see the end!"
"That day, I personally witnessed it! That blood-soaked fish monster was snatching people up everywhere—when suddenly, a beam of golden light flashed, and a little golden immortal descended from the sky!"
"He held a golden sword, radiant and majestic!"
"That fish monster looked fierce, monstrous waves crashing around it. But it wasn't a match at all."
"Just a few exchanges, and it was defeated!"
"That little immortal pressed the monster's head to an altar, raised his sword, and with a single brilliant strike—beheaded it!"
He finished dramatically, shaking his head in awe.
Those who hadn't seen the fish monster's death gasped in collective awe.
"What a heroic little immortal!"
"Truly mighty!"
Someone couldn't help but ask:
"Why was the immortal so little? Did he not grow up?"
"How would I know… I'm no immortal."
"Maybe he hasn't completed his cultivation yet."
"Even so young and already so powerful—imagine when he's fully grown…"
"Exactly!"
"So where is that little immortal now…?"
The villagers looked at each other, all shaking their heads.
"He vanished after slaying the river monster. Immortals come and go without a trace—how would we know where he went?"
"Actually… he probably wasn't a real immortal, right?"
"If someone enters a dream and slays a river demon—what else could he be? Have you ever seen a real immortal?"
"No, I haven't…"
"Exactly."
As they chatted, someone suddenly spoke in a hushed, mysterious tone:
"I think all those nightmares we had, and all that misfortune recently, were probably tied to that blood-colored fish monster."
The others paused, then nodded.
"Sounds plausible…"
"What do we do if that fish monster comes back?"
"Kill it."
"And who's going to do that? You?"
"Definitely not me…"
"We could ask that little immortal again?"
"He already saved us once. We received his kindness for nothing—why would he help us a second time, just like that?"
"True…"
"How about this," someone suggested. "We start offering incense—worship that little immortal."
The villagers froze for a beat, then began to ponder.
That person continued:
"Think about it—if we never burn incense, and then just pray in panic when danger comes, how could that work? Even immortals won't protect you for no reason."
"But if we worship him daily, offer incense… then, if evil comes again, and he cuts it down for us, wouldn't that be fair? A proper exchange?"
Suddenly enlightened, the fishermen all nodded.
"Makes sense…"
"That fits the logic of cause and effect."
"Offering worship is good anyway. He helped us, and we're repaying kindness. Brings peace of mind."
The river was unpredictable. Life and death could strike in an instant.
Having lived on the edge for so long, these fishermen instinctively wanted something to put their faith in—some vague, higher power to pray to.
Even if it brought no true protection, it brought comfort.
So they came to an agreement, and together, they carved out a small shrine into the cliffside behind the village.
They called it a temple, but really, it was just a little shrine.
They hollowed a space in the stone, placed a tiny altar, offered fruits and small tributes, and in the center, they placed a small clay statue.
The statue was sculpted by Old Man Yu.
He had traveled a bit in his youth and had seen all kinds of stone and clay statues in other temples—so now, those memories finally came in handy.
But when he finished sculpting the body and moved on to the face, Old Man Yu hesitated and asked:
"What did the little immortal look like?"
Because he had raised Bloodfish and had more of his belief drained, his spiritual sense was weaker. He had passed out early in the dream and hadn't seen anything—no golden sword, no slaying of monsters.
"Covered in golden light. We couldn't see clearly," someone replied.
"Go ask around—see if anyone did see what the little immortal looked like," Old Man Yu said.
But after asking everyone in the village, they all shook their heads.
"Just make one up, Grandpa Yu," someone said. "Doesn't need to be accurate—it's just a clay statue."
Others agreed.
"Yeah, yeah."
Old Man Yu thought about it and realized that was true.
But as he sculpted the face of the little immortal—the one who had shown such kindness to the village—one particular image surfaced in his mind.
Mo Hua's face.
The more he thought about it, the more fitting it seemed.
If a little immortal really existed… he should look exactly like young Master Mo.
Handsome and warm, with eyes that sparkled, gentle in spirit yet noble in bearing, and full of righteous fury against evil.
So Old Man Yu crafted a little clay statue in the likeness of Mo Hua—seated upright, bearing a golden sword on his back.
His craftsmanship wasn't perfect, only about 60% accurate overall.
But the eyes and brows were vivid and expressive—capturing almost 90% of Mo Hua's likeness.
Once the statue was finished, it was placed in the small temple.
After that, anytime the weather turned stormy, or the river ran high, or people had bad dreams, or suspected evil was nearby—
The villagers would visit the little shrine, light a stick of incense, and bow before the small clay immortal holding a golden sword.
And amidst the curling incense smoke, none of them noticed:
A tiny, weakened silver fish quietly swam into the shrine, hiding behind the awe-inspiring statue…
Feeding off Mo Hua's incense offering, it slowly began to recover its divine soul.
(End of Chapter)