Chapter 95: Spiritual Ink
"Divine-Sense has its limits."
Mister Zhuang's words made Mo Hua feel an inexplicable sense of truth.
Since that was the case, Mo Hua no longer dwelled on it. After all, as one's cultivation advanced, so too would one's Divine-Sense, everything would come naturally with progress. The only thing to do was focus on cultivation; there was no rushing such matters.
For now, the most important thing was still to study more formation arts.
The bottleneck of the Celestial Evolution Art lay within its Puzzle Formation. To unravel it, one needed to master countless intricate arrays. Mister Zhuang had given him the Thousand Formations Compendium, but Mo Hua had only learned a small portion of it. With his current experience, it was far from enough.
If he couldn't solve the Puzzle Formation, he couldn't break through the bottleneck. Without breaking through, his realm would stagnate, and once it stagnated, his cultivation path would come to an end.
Thus, aside from his daily cultivation routine, Mo Hua devoted all his attention to studying formations.
At night, he practiced formations on the broken Dao Stele within his Sea of Consciousness; in the daytime, he drew arrays on paper. Occasionally, when someone's household formation failed, they would come to ask for his help.
When Master Chen's Artifact Refining Workshop needed assistance—repairing furnaces or adding formation inscriptions onto spiritual tools—he would invite Mo Hua over. Sometimes, Elder Feng would even introduce cultivators to him for the same reason.
Some paid Mo Hua with a few spirit stones as compensation. Others, whose households were truly poor, would apologetically offer homegrown vegetables and fruits, or perhaps the candies and toys they sold at the market.
Mo Hua knew how hard life was for rogue cultivators, so he only accepted a token amount of spirit stones. When he received food, drinks, or trinkets instead, he was genuinely happy.
His goal was simply to apply what he had learned—to practice formations—so he didn't mind these details.
As a result, whenever Mo Hua strolled through the market afterward, all the uncles and aunties he had once helped would stuff things into his hands, wild fruits from the mountains, homemade rice cakes, bamboo-woven grasshoppers, calming incense sachets, and even rouge or handkerchiefs used by female cultivators…
Whenever Mo Hua tried to pay with spirit stones, they refused no matter what; if he didn't accept their gifts, they would actually get upset.
And so it happened that Mo Hua could walk from one end of the street to the other without spending a single spirit stone, yet his Storage Bag would be filled to the brim. He looked like a spoiled young master living off everyone else's generosity, which left him both amused and exasperated.
But after a while, Mo Hua discovered a rather serious problem.
He had no spirit stones left to buy spiritual ink!
Ever since Liu Ruhua opened her restaurant, the family's finances had improved considerably.
The spirit stones Mo Hua used for cultivation each day came from his parents. Though he hadn't wanted to accept them, Mo Shan and Liu Ruhua insisted, saying he was still too young to be self-reliant.
Mo Hua also earned some spirit stones by drawing formations for others. Those stones he spent on brushes and spiritual ink for practice; occasionally, he'd treat himself to something tasty.
Overall, his spirit stone income and expenses were roughly balanced, with just a tiny bit of surplus.
Not much, but enough.
However, as Mo Hua's cultivation improved, his Divine-Sense grew stronger, and his formations more intricate. With the Celestial Evolution Art further enhancing his control, he drew faster and faster.
The faster he drew, the more formations he made each day; the more he drew, the stronger his Divine-Sense became. The stronger his Divine-Sense, the more complex his formations became, yet he still finished them faster…
Dao Stele, Celestial Evolution Art, Meditation Technique…
This originally positive cycle eventually turned into a disastrous one:
Mo Hua was burning through spiritual ink like water, and spirit stones like flowing rivers.
Until one day, he realized he had run out of both ink and stones, and only then did he grasp how bad the situation had become.
Now broke and empty-handed, Mo Hua frowned. "What should I do?"
Ask his parents for more?
He shook his head. He wanted his parents to use their spirit stones for cultivation, to strengthen their own realms and prolong their lifespans. If he asked, they'd surely hand over all their stones without hesitation.
Charge more for his formation work?
That didn't feel right either. His neighbors were all rogue cultivators, already struggling. Besides, they'd helped him plenty in return, so it wouldn't sit well with him to take more.
Refine spiritual ink himself?
He didn't know the recipe or technique. Even if he did, the ingredients required were out of reach.
After pondering for two whole days, Mo Hua still couldn't find a good solution.
That afternoon, Liu Ruhua frowned and said, "Xiao Hu got hurt while hunting demons on the mountain. I heard it's serious. Take these things to him and check how he's doing."
Mo Hua's heart skipped a beat. "Alright, Mother, I'll go right away!"
When he arrived at the Meng household, Dà Hu and Shuāng Hu were tending to Xiǎo Hu.
Xiǎo Hu lay face down on the bed, eyes shut, his face pale as paper. A long claw mark tore across his back, still oozing blood.
When they saw Mo Hua, Dà Hu and Shuāng Hu's eyes lit up... only to dim again.
It had been two months since Mo Hua last saw them.
Being a demon hunter was far from an easy job. Beasts of the same cultivation realm were much stronger than humans, their bodies innately powerful, their blood energy fierce, their reflexes sharp and movements swift. Many also wielded innate elemental powers or deadly poisons, making them terrifying opponents.
To become a demon hunter meant embracing constant hardship, and living with one foot in the grave.
Even seasoned hunters could die in an instant if careless; therefore, they always hunted in teams, watching each other's backs without the slightest lapse.
Dà Hu and his brothers were still novices, just starting out, still learning, still vulnerable.
Among cultivators their age, they were considered outstanding, talented in both cultivation and spell arts. But facing real beasts was another matter entirely.
For two months, they had remained in the mountains, learning the terrain, studying monsters, and training in live combat. In those battles, one had to stay utterly focused; even a moment's hesitation could mean injury… or death.
Once, a seventeen-year-old cultivator who had entered the mountains with them panicked at the sight of a demon beast, and had his throat torn out, bleeding to death on the spot.
Dà Hu had told Mo Hua this story before, and Mo Hua had deeply felt the weight behind the title "Demon Hunter."
And now, seeing Xiǎo Hu's torn and bloody back, that reality struck all the harder.
"Has Elder Feng examined him?"
Looking at Xiǎo Hu's pale face, Mo Hua's voice was filled with worry.
"Elder Feng came by," Shuāng Hu said, his eyes red. "He applied healing herbs and gave Xiǎo Hu a pill to take."
"What exactly happened?" Mo Hua couldn't help but ask.
(End of Chapter)