The Quest for Immortality Chapter 2241: The Eerie Formation Master

The five brothers of Tai’a stood as a bulwark before Mo Hua, forming an impenetrable wall that forbade anyone from drawing near.

Cheng Mo, Yang Qianjun, Situ Jian, and their companions gathered around Mo Hua, anchoring the formation in place.

Feng Zichen took the initiative, relying on his master-level movement techniques to launch a spearhead assault towards Mo Hua.

Employing the Carefree Wind Stepping Technique to vanish across the distance, he wove through the ranks of Taixu Gate disciples using the Trigram Wind Wandering Step, appearing as little more than a phantom white blur. After a frantic series of over a dozen strikes, he pierced the Taixu Gate perimeter, coming within twenty zhang of Mo Hua.

For any disciple of the Four Sects and Seven Gates, this was the closest they had ever managed to get to their mark.

Feng Zichen immediately lunged toward Mo Hua’s vitals.

However, he hadn't crossed even ten zhang before the earth erupted with jagged mountain stones, locking him inside an impromptu cage.

A split second later, the five brothers of Tai’a converged, their massive swords descending upon him with overwhelming force.

The sheer power radiating from those colossal blades was enough to freeze the blood.

Feng Zichen, a cultivator who favored the speed of a lithe blade, dared not meet such force head-on and was forced to scramble back.

Yet, the moment his feet retreated, Spiritual Ink bled into the soil, transmuting the ground into a treacherous mire of quicksand.

Wary of the Tai’a brothers' weapons, Feng Zichen inadvertently sank his right foot into the muck. Though he wrenched himself free in an instant, his heart hammered against his ribs in sudden terror.

In the heat of a chaotic battle, being snared by a formation—even for the blink of an eye—was a death sentence.

Situ Jian, who had been lying in wait for precisely such a blunder, seized his window. He unleashed a whip-crack of Li Fire Sword Qi that tore through the air, finding purchase in Feng Zichen’s back.

As Feng Zichen reeled from the impact, he turned only to face the biting edge of two heavy axes.

Cheng Mo, always in perfect harmony with Situ Jian, wasted no time. Seeing his comrade land the Li Fire Sword strike, he swung both axes in a crushing arc.

Feng Zichen was struck dead center, the weight of the axes nearly ending him on the spot. Only the desperate intervention of Shi Tiangang, who arrived with a thunderous punch to knock Cheng Mo aside, saved him from certain doom.

Only then could Feng Zichen gasp for air.

Soon after, reinforcements including Song Kui from the Sever Gold Sect, Qin Cangliu of the Gui Water Sect, and various elites from the Purple Mist and Lingxiao Sects surged forward.

However, their movement arts paled in comparison to Feng Zichen’s, and they failed to bypass the formation guards.

Any attempt to force their way through the Tai’a brothers' defense proved futile, and they stood no chance against the biting, ominous Sword Qi of Linghu Xiao.

From the moment the skirmish erupted, not one of them had truly breached Mo Hua’s perimeter.

Meanwhile, Mo Hua remained seated upon a distant boulder, his slender frame as immovable as the mountain itself.

Guided by his unfathomable Divine Thought, threads of black and crimson Spiritual Ink drifted before him like living silk.

Occasionally, rivers of ink slithered across the ground like thin, venomous vipers.

He woven one formation after another, working in perfect concert with the deadly strikes of the Taixu Gate disciples to systematically harvest his enemies.

Mo Hua’s expression remained serene, his eyes holding a depth of eerie indifference.

As the Spiritual Ink danced between his fingertips, it seemed as if the life and death of every warrior on the field were merely strings under his control.

This sinister display chilled the very souls of Shi Tiangang, Qin Cangliu, and their peers.

They faced a type of Formation Master never before seen in open conflict—a terrifying, untouchable force.

His dominance did not stem from raw cultivation, but from a mastery of formations that bypassed mortal limits, allowing him to warp the battlefield and dictate the fate of every cultivator present.

He had to be eliminated!

Regardless of the cost, this monstrously talented Mo Hua must die.

The resolve to kill him crystallized instantly in their minds.

They cast all restraint aside and threw themselves into the fray, yet even after repeated failures, they could not break the Taixu Gate’s iron defense.

Instead, their ranks thinned, with allies falling one by one to the traps hidden in the earth.

"If melee fails, switch to long-range assault!" Qin Cangliu demanded. "Ye Zhiyuan, use your Sword Control!"

"I have no chance to do so!"

Ye Zhiyuan roared back, his frustration mounting as Hao Xuan and the Taixu Gate disciples kept him pinned down.

The act of Sword Control required absolute focus, and the slightest disturbance could turn the art against the user.

Since Ye Zhiyuan’s first failed attempt to assassinate Mo Hua, Hao Xuan had made it his personal mission to bedevil the man.

Every time Ye Zhiyuan attempted to distance himself to command his blade, Hao Xuan would swoop in and strike him across the back of the head.

Ye Zhiyuan was apoplectic with rage.

How could an elite disciple of the Eight Great Gates in the Qian Learning State Boundary possess such a lack of decorum, shunning the sword in favor of a vulgar, heavy rod?

Qin Cangliu cursed under his breath, dismissing Ye Zhiyuan as a useless fool.

Once, Ye Zhiyuan had been the undisputed prodigy of Daluo Sect, gifted and so arrogant that no one dared whisper a word of criticism against him.

But since his humiliating defeat at the hands of Mo Hua, his spirit had fractured irrevocably.

The reverence they once held for the "Sword Dao Genius" had long since eroded.

Despite his disdain, Qin Cangliu pulled himself from the front lines to cover Ye Zhiyuan, forcing him to intercept Hao Xuan and his cohorts.

Mo Hua’s formations were far too eldritch to ignore.

The Taixu Gate disciples, bolstered by their mysterious armor, fought with a savage efficiency that was unknown to them before.

If this continued, they would be staring down total annihilation.

The only hope for a breakthrough rested solely on Ye Zhiyuan’s Sword Control technique.

"Employ your Sword Control and strike at Mo Hua from the distance!"

"Even if you cannot slay him, keep him on the defensive. You must not let him continue drawing these formations..."

While Qin Cangliu was no master, he understood the basics of the craft.

Complex formations required unwavering concentration and a sharp Divine Sense.

To control Spiritual Ink through the sheer weight of mind was infinitely more demanding than static drawing; it required a depth of focus rarely seen.

So long as Ye Zhiyuan’s flying sword could press Mo Hua, it would force a disruption in his focus, stalling the formation drawing.

Without those lethal formations, they could survive a little longer.

Once the reinforcements from the outside shattered the barrier sealing the mountain, they could launch a joint strike, and the Taixu Gate would surely fall.

The entire battle now hinged on Ye Zhiyuan’s skill.

After all, he was, at one time, the most gifted practitioner of the Daluo Flying Sword Skill, a technique that was far from common.