The Quest for Immortality Chapter 2236: Ink Manipulation (part 3)

A collective sense of regret washed over the group of Formation Elders.

This development was not lost on the many cultivators observing the field.

It was clear that the protective formations of the Taixu Gate were rapidly nearing exhaustion.

After all, throughout this confrontation, Mo Hua had acted as the primary architect for an extensive array of defenses.

The unrelenting offensive mounted by the Four Sects and Seven Gates had effectively shredded most of the defensive lines he had carefully laid out.

The few remaining barriers were fragile and clearly on the verge of collapse.

...

Deep within the Sword Discussion Conference, Mo Hua was acutely aware of his precarious position.

Outside the valley, the air roiled with interlaced Taoist skills; the constant vibration of formations sparked thunderous echoes that battered the senses.

Meanwhile, Mo Hua remained composed, perched atop a large, inconspicuous boulder inside the valley.

Though the stone seemed entirely unremarkable, he had remained rooted there without the slightest movement since his arrival.

Upon entering the valley early on, he had immediately set to work with his Formation Painting.

By leveraging the temporary reprieve won by his Illusion Array and Concealment Formation, he had managed to produce a total of twenty High-Rank Formations in staggered intervals.

However, the bulk of these had been pulverized during the preceding onslaught.

Now, a mere three or four remained, and these few were being subjected to such constant strain that their collapse seemed inevitable.

The defensive stability was shattering, and the situation was quickly approaching a breaking point.

"Since things have reached this juncture, maintaining a facade is no longer necessary..."

With a calm demeanor, Mo Hua retrieved his brushes and ink, spread his formation media wide, and began to work in earnest.

This time, there was no small blanket to hide his actions, nor any attempt to obscure his methodology.

He was fully committed now, crafting formations with a speed that defied belief.

Mo Hua’s expression was locked in intense focus, his Divine Sense surging forth so potently that his hand, wielding the brush, appeared to blur into a ghostly motion.

His strokes danced with grace and precision, pouring profound formation patterns onto the media and jade stone like water, manifesting flawless and exquisite structures.

The sheer velocity of his work was nothing short of miraculous.

Outside, the cultivators who had been monitoring him with hawk-like intensity were suddenly thrown into a state of chaotic uproar.

"This is impossible..."

"Can formations truly be drafted with such frantic speed?"

"This pace is insane; it looks twice as fast as what we saw earlier."

"Are you saying that when he was hiding under that blanket, he was intentionally holding back his true prowess?"

"It is beyond comprehension how a person could paint with such frantic tempo."

"And he does it without a single error? Just how deep is his intuitive grasp of these formations?"

The more they pondered his performance, the deeper their collective astonishment grew.

Even the Ten Thousand Formations Sect found themselves utterly stunned.

One disciple stammered, "Elder, how does one even begin to learn such a technique?"

The elders of the Ten Thousand Formations Sect were rendered speechless, their minds unable to process what they had just witnessed.

Conversely, the moral of the Taixu Gate soared to new heights.

The fellow disciples who knew Mo Hua best watched with glowing eyes, fueled by raw excitement.

They knew their junior brother was done playing games; the time had come to reveal his true hidden hand...

...

Inside the Dao Discussion Valley.

Mo Hua was a picture of absolute concentration, his silence absolute, his devotion solely to the art of cultivation.

A rapid succession of Second Grade Nineteen Patterns High-Rank Formations bloomed under his brush, perfectly etched onto the waiting media.

He functioned with the cold, rhythmic precision of a "formation machine."

His newly minted works were snatched up by a group of disciples led by Hao Xuan, who utilized their superior movement techniques to deploy them instantly at the valley entrance.

While lives were being traded for every inch of ground outside, Mo Hua continued his steady creation of new defenses within.

Slowly, it dawned on everyone that the frantic, life-sacrificing assault of the Four Sects and Seven Gates could barely keep pace with Mo Hua’s individual production capacity.

And yet, he was only one man.

The narrow bottleneck of the terrain, combined with the fierce tactical interference of the five Tai’a brothers, already made this display a legendary feat.

Cries of disbelief erupted from the masses.

Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined a cultivator capable of painting formations with such terrifying efficiency.

It wasn't just common cultivators who were rattled; even veteran masters from prestigious Formation Sects and elite Aristocratic clans found the sight impossible to believe.

At this rate, unless the highest geniuses of the generation personally entered the fray, not even the annihilation of the Four Sects and Seven Gates would be enough to exhaust Mo Hua’s supply.

"Is this... the true weight of a Qianxue Array Dao Leader..."

For every young talent of the formation lineage who had dedicated their life to the pursuit of the Dao, this realization felt like a crushing stone, leaving them gasping for air.

Back within the Ten Thousand Formations Sect, the mood was different.

After the initial shock wore off, several elders furrowed their brows, shaking their heads in somber resignation:

"The Taixu Gate... they cannot hold this position for long."

A puzzled disciple asked, "But are they not currently holding firm?"

Mo Hua’s speed was blinding, and the Taixu Gate’s defense seemed impenetrable.

The elder from the Ten Thousand Formations Sect shook his head, his tone laced with regret as he noted:

"He may possess unmatched speed, but his resources are finite. Even the most skilled cook cannot prepare a feast without provisions. Once he runs out of formation media, what use is his speed?"

Mo Hua was forced to recycle dismantled media to continue his work.

The Sword Discussion Conference provided a finite set of materials, and that meant Mo Hua was working with a strict limit on his raw resources.

The total pool of formation media the Taixu Gate brought, salvaged or seized, amounted to just over thirty pieces.

With roughly twenty already spent defending the valley, the remaining stock was dwindling fast.

There were barely ten usable pieces left.

No matter how vast his reserve of Divine Sense or how nimble he was with his brush, the lack of physical media presented an impossible ceiling.

This grim mathematical fact meant the defensive line was doomed to collapse sooner or later.

The elders of the Ten Thousand Formations Sect, having seen countless battles of wits, were the first to identify this bottleneck.

Initially blinded by the spectacle of his speed, other cultivators gradually began to grasp the fatal flaw in the defense.

"The Taixu Gate... has reached the end of its rope."

Speed was nothing when the well ran dry.

As predicted, the grinding war of attrition continued; the disciples of the Four Sects and Seven Gates, discarding their lives in waves, eventually bullied the supply out of existence.

Once the last fragment of formation media was consumed, no more defenses could be created.

Mo Hua remained remarkably unflappable. Neither pride nor frustration touched his expression as he simply sat in quiet meditation, closing his eyes to restore his exhausted Divine Sense.

He existed in a state of tranquil isolation, as if the entire battlefield around him had ceased to be his concern.