Chapter 164: Fireball Technique
"Elder, find two people to protect me!"
Mo Hua called out to Elder Yu, then lightly leapt down from the mouth of the mine.
Elder Yu did not know what Mo Hua intended to do. After thinking for a moment, he summoned two demon hunters and ordered them to guard Mo Hua's sides.
His own Divine-Sense followed Mo Hua closely, ready to intervene should danger arise.
Mo Hua did not enter the heart of the battlefield. Instead, he found a hidden position at the edge and crouched carefully.
The two demon hunters stayed on alert nearby.
Mo Hua steadied his breathing, closed his eyes, and pushed his Divine-Sense to the limit.
The chaotic battlefield dissolved into a pale, ethereal blankness. Within that boundless void, every cultivator in combat appeared as luminous silhouettes of spiritual energy.
After a long while, Mo Hua finally detected a strange presence.
A faintly blue, translucent figure flitting across the battlefield, moving like a ghost, its attacks unpredictable and elusive.
If not for Mo Hua's fully-extended Divine-Sense, he would never have sensed it.
He tried to lock onto the figure with his mind, but it was too flickering, too ephemeral to catch.
Meanwhile, more and more demon hunters were falling.
Mo Hua took a deep breath, forcibly calmed his spirit, and entered a state of meditative focus where self and surroundings became one.
With every ounce of concentration, he tracked that faint blue shadow. After an indeterminate time, his eyes snapped open, shining faintly.
Locked on!
The shadow's form was still hazy, but its trajectory was now clear within his Divine-Sense.
Mo Hua pressed his two fingers together and pointed forward. A fireball roared out.
The Fireball flew toward an apparently empty patch of ground.
Near that clearing, a demon hunter clad in iron armor was locked in a fierce melee.
Suddenly, the hunter felt a prickling premonition of danger. Yet his sword and saber were both engaged, leaving him no way to dodge.
At that instant, from the narrow gap beside him, a dagger appeared, its angle vicious, aiming straight for his eyes.
With no room to evade, despair flashed across his face.
Just then, a fireball shrieked through the air and exploded against the hidden assailant.
The burst of flame broke the ambush.
The attacker was briefly forced into visibility. A short, ordinary-looking cultivator in black robes, his eyes venomous.
The hunter seized the moment, drew a breath, cleaved aside a nearby Qian Family cultivator, and swung his blade toward the black-robed attacker.
The man cursed, retreated with a flash of body technique, darted through the crowd to the battlefield's edge, and once again faded from sight.
The hunter felt regret but also gratitude. Without that timely fireball, his life would already be forfeit.
What a pity he hadn't managed to catch and finish the black-robed wretch!
...
Meanwhile, the black-robed cultivator, after several ghostlike movements, hid again among the chaos, but his mind was uneasy.
"Where did that fireball come from?"
Demon hunters were mostly body cultivators; few used spells.
That spell just now had been unusually precise and cunning, clearly cast by an experienced practitioner.
Fortunately, the power was low, enough to disrupt him, but not injure.
Yet the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. A true expert's fireball should never be that weak.
Could it have been a coincidence?
In a mass battle, stray spells often hit by mistake. Perhaps he had just been unlucky.
He refused to believe anyone could lock onto him so precisely in such chaos.
Relaxing slightly, he regained his confidence and continued stalking the battlefield for another opportunity.
A demon hunter exposed a flaw, he was about to strike when another fireball streaked in, disrupting him again!
Once might be luck. Twice was impossible to ignore.
The black-robed cultivator's expression hardened. His sharp gaze flicked rapidly around.
A veteran of countless duels, he knew the gestures of spellcasting. Yet no one nearby showed the faintest sign of using a spell.
He extended his Divine-Sense cautiously, scanning around, but found nothing. Confusion crept into his face.
"Who's casting these fireballs?"
He dared not release his Divine-Sense fully or for too long, dividing attention that way in battle could prove fatal.
If his focus slipped, someone would surely seize the chance to strike.
Far away, Mo Hua crouched behind a massive boulder. He locked the target with Divine-Sense, peeked out, launched a fireball, then ducked back into hiding.
At that range, the black-robed man could neither see him nor sense him.
Having cast two spells already, Mo Hua's control grew smoother; the hidden cultivator's aura within his Divine-Sense became clearer and more defined.
A faint chill crawled up the black-robed man's spine.
Someone was watching him. Constantly.
Amid the chaotic swirl of spiritual energy, he had missed it before. Now, struck twice, he could feel it unmistakably, a persistent thread of Divine-Sense following him like a ghostly shadow.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator?!
No, impossible. If it were Foundation Establishment, he would not even perceive it.
Then it must be a Qi-Refining cultivator at the ninth layer, whose Divine-Sense surpassed his own.
But if so, why were the fireballs so weak?
His thoughts tangled. He had to find whoever was doing this. Otherwise, each strike he attempted would be thwarted.
Wary now, he stopped attacking and drifted around the battlefield's periphery, searching carefully for clues.
If the enemy did not move, he would not move.
Mo Hua, seeing his restraint, stayed still as well, contentedly leaning behind his boulder, munching a tart wild fruit.
Without the assassin's interference, the demon hunters found the pressure lifting. They fought more freely, their blades flashing bright.
The Qian Family cultivators began to falter.
Realizing the situation was slipping, the black-robed man reluctantly moved again.
And every time he struck, a fireball found him.
He tried faking attacks to reveal the fireball's origin. Once, he caught a vague direction, but the next time, the fireball came straight for his face.
Mo Hua had sensed his intent and simply targeted his head directly, leaving him blinded by fire and smoke.
The more he cast, the more precise he became. The hidden man's position grew ever clearer.
The black-robed cultivator felt like coughing blood.
What kind of ridiculous nonsense was this? Each shot more accurate than the last?
Hit in the face... again?!
Rage boiled in his chest. After years of ambushing others, he was now being ambushed himself, by someone using Fireball Technique, of all things.
Not once or twice, but over and over!
"Despicable! I'll find you and kill you!"
Furious, his spiritual power wavered. His concealment technique faltered for an instant.
That instant was all Mo Shan needed.
In a blur, Mo Shan appeared before him, seized his shoulder with one great hand, and slammed him to the ground.
A crack of breaking bones echoed.
The black-robed cultivator hit the dirt, vomiting blood.
(End of Chapter)