Chapter 77: The Demon-Hunting Festival
Mo Hua originally thought that Zhang Lan's "I'll come find you when I'm free" was just polite talk—but who would've guessed he actually meant it.
After that day, Zhang Lan would often wander to the tavern, order a pot of wine and a plate of meat, then sit there half the day watching the bustling street outside. Whenever he saw Mo Hua, he'd grumble,
"You little kid, where do you go every day? I've come by several times and never seen you."
Mo Hua's small face turned serious.
"I'm not like you. I'm very busy."
"Busy? Doing what?" Zhang Lan clearly didn't believe it.
Mo Hua began counting on his fingers:
"I have to cultivate every day, practice formation drawing when I have time, study formation texts when I'm tired, bring food to Mister Zhuang and ask him questions, and help the neighbors repair their formations when needed…"
Zhang Lan rubbed his temples.
"Alright, alright, I give up. You win."
Seeing an eleven- or twelve-year-old cultivator busier than himself—a Dao Court Division cultivator—who spent his days lounging and drinking, made Zhang Lan feel a twinge of guilt.
Even when his father scolded him harshly to his face, he had never felt this embarrassed.
"By the way, is there anything fun to do in Tōngxiān City?" he asked.
"I'm a good kid. I don't fool around. How would I know?"
Mo Hua refused to answer. Who knew what kind of "fun" Zhang Lan was talking about? He was still a child—anything "not age-appropriate" was strictly off-limits.
"Then… someplace lively?" Zhang Lan tried again.
"The east end of South Street is livelier."
"Been there. Not many cultivators, few market stalls—boring."
"You went during the day, of course it wasn't lively. Not everyone's as idle as you. Most people actually work for a living," Mo Hua said matter-of-factly.
Zhang Lan was speechless. After a pause, he realized the kid had a point. Fine—so he was idle. So what?
"Then when is it lively?"
Mo Hua thought for a moment.
"The day after tomorrow. It's the Demon-Hunting Festival—happens once a year. That's when it's most crowded."
"What's the Demon-Hunting Festival?"
Mo Hua explained,
"It's when demon hunters celebrate their harvest. The tenth month is peak hunting season—after that, demon beasts become less active, and profits drop. Most demon hunters catch as many beasts as they can during this month, then sell their spoils at the festival before taking a break. By then, the market's packed—everything's for sale, and it's incredibly lively."
Zhang Lan raised his brows.
"You sure know a lot."
"Of course." Mo Hua patted his chest. "I'm basically a local expert by now."
Zhang Lan chuckled, his curiosity piqued.
"Alright then, I'll go take a look the day after tomorrow."
He brushed off his sleeves and got up to leave.
Mo Hua blinked.
"Aren't you forgetting to pay?"
"I've got a deposit at the counter—just deduct it," Zhang Lan said coolly.
Mo Hua thought to himself: That guy really did have the air of a man destined to be scammed.
He lowered his head again, reading his formation manual. He planned to learn a few more formations in the next two days—then take a proper break during the festival and hang out with Dà Hu and the others.
When Bai Zisheng heard Mo Hua was going to the Demon-Hunting Festival, he looked so envious he was practically drooling.
The Bai Clan's rules were strict. Even though they weren't at the family estate, Aunt Xue still required them to cultivate daily—and on top of that, practice alchemy, formation theory, and artifact refining. Every day was meticulously scheduled.
Maybe because they were away from the clan, Aunt Xue feared they'd fall behind the other disciples—so her standards were even stricter.
Many of the alchemy, artifact-refining, or cultivation books Mo Hua glanced at were so profound they made his head spin—he couldn't make sense of them at all.
Fortunately, formation texts were another story—those, he could actually understand.
Still, Mo Hua had always wondered: Why exactly did the Bai siblings become Mister Zhuang's registered disciples?
So far, Mister Zhuang hadn't taught them anything special.
Everything they studied, Mo Hua could study too. When they asked questions, Mo Hua often listened from the side. Some topics were complex, sure—but not so advanced that only Mister Zhuang could explain them.
And even if Mister Zhuang taught them nothing, their cultivation schedules were perfectly arranged by their clan. They didn't really need his supervision at all.
Mister Zhuang's study was mostly visited by Mo Hua himself—bringing food and asking questions.
The Bai siblings usually cultivated in the small pavilion, studying quietly. From what Mo Hua saw, apart from routine greetings, they'd never gone to see Mister Zhuang alone.
It puzzled Mo Hua greatly.
Or maybe… there are things Mister Zhuang won't teach registered disciples—only direct disciples?
Could it be that they're hoping he'll take them as true disciples to pass on deeper teachings?
After all, there's a big difference between a registered disciple and a direct one. The former could only address him as "Sir," while the latter could call him "Master."
For cultivators, the bond between master and disciple was sacred: "A master for one day is a father for life."
Take Dazhu, for instance, he was accepted as Master Chen's disciple, and Master Chen treated him like his own son, even expecting Dazhu to care for him in old age.
Because the bond was so deep, betraying one's sect or master was considered one of the gravest sins in the cultivation world.
Mo Hua rubbed his chin, a thought flashing through his mind:
"Would Mister Zhuang ever take me as a direct disciple?"
He quickly compared his own cultivation, spiritual root, talent, and background with the Bai siblings... and sobered up fast.
Nope. Better not aim too high.
He quietly dismissed the unrealistic notion.
Two days later, the Demon-Hunting Festival arrived.
It was one of the biggest festivals in Tōngxiān City, even grander than the Lotus Festival.
Cultivators of all kinds—whether poor rogue cultivators or wealthy clan members—had been preparing long in advance. From morning onward, the whole city buzzed with festivity, and by nightfall, it blazed with lights.
During the festival, the tavern would be packed, so Liu Ruhua stayed home with Aunt Jiang and a few hired aunties to manage the business.
Mo Shan handled the buyers, selling off the hides, bones, and cores from the demon beasts their hunting team had gathered over the past month. The coming months were the off-season, so many cultivators relied on these profits to last until next year.
Mo Hua, meanwhile, went out with Dà Hu and the others to enjoy the festival.
But the three of them had another reason to attend—the Demon-Beast Hunting Rite.
Each year's festival included the rite, a ceremony marking the moment when young cultivators at the sixth layer of Qi-Refining officially became demon hunters.
For the rogue cultivators of Tōngxiān City, Qi-Refining Sixth Layer was a critical threshold—the peak of mid-stage cultivation, and the point where one could begin aspiring to late-stage.
At mid-stage, cultivators could learn basic spells and martial techniques, their spiritual power and physical strength already sufficient to defend themselves against demon beasts.
And beyond mid-stage lay late-stage—an enormous leap that many cultivators spent their entire lives chasing, often held back by limited resources, poor roots, or inadequate techniques.
Thus, reaching Qi-Refining Sixth Layer meant one could finally become a true demon hunter, someone who lived by slaying beasts.
(End of Chapter)