The Quest for Immortality Chapter 2293: Shangguan Wang (part 2)

...

Mo Hua trailed Mr. Tu into the majestic hall, pressed onward, bypassed the wall paintings depicting demonic beasts from the Great Wilderness Purgatory, and finally mounted a lengthy set of stairs.

Yet these stairs plunged downward rather than climbing up; the further they descended, the more shadowy it grew, the tighter the space became, the damper and more sinister the atmosphere, until they arrived at the spot Mr. Tu had arranged for Mo Hua:

A dungeon.

This dungeon lay profoundly deep, utterly sealed off, shrouded in pitch blackness without a hint of light, encircled by sheer cliff walls that stirred hopelessness just from a glance.

Mo Hua quietly examined it for a bit, then pointed out to Mr. Tu:

"I am the prodigy of the Qianxue Debate, the Formation Leader; folks often dub me the ’Taixu Gate Crown Prince’..."

Meaning, you intend to house the "Crown Prince" in a dump like this?

As the "chief steward" for the Great Wilderness Evil God, isn’t your hosting style rather crude?

Mr. Tu replied steadily, "This is the highest level of respect I can offer. With you secured here, you can relax fully, and so can I."

"Please." Mr. Tu invited courteously, though his tone grated hoarsely, akin to some fiendish beast.

Under another's roof, one has no choice but to submit.

Mo Hua could only step into the cell obediently.

Mr. Tu shut the cell door tight and departed without another word to Mo Hua, yet right before exiting the dungeon area, he sharply ordered the Golden Core Demon Cultivators stationed there:

"Guard him closely, show no laxity whatsoever, allow zero errors..."

Mr. Tu trailed off, yet every demon cultivator sensed a icy dread grip their hearts.

Should any slip-up happen, the grim destiny facing dungeon sentries was something they grasped all too well.

The demon cultivators ducked their heads low, scarcely daring to exhale.

Once Mr. Tu had spoken his piece, he departed.

Not until Mr. Tu had gone a good distance, his bone-chilling malevolent presence fading away, did the demon cultivators gradually rise, venturing cautious breaths amid their unease and bewilderment.

A demon cultivator bearing a dour expression creased his brow:

"This represents the lowest level of the Great Wilderness Prison, designed for even late Golden Core Stage captives; even those who’ve endured Feather Transformation have been confined here before, so why now just a mere Foundation Establishment kid?"

"Mr. Tu himself acts with such wariness and zero oversight... just what is this boy’s identity?"

As fellow demon cultivators were about to chime in, a sharp voice cut them off:

"All of you, shut your mouths!"

"Stick to your duties, pose fewer queries—the more chatter here, the swifter your doom."

These words silenced the group instantly.

A burly, intimidating demon cultivator gave a cold smirk:

"Mr. Tu’s depths are beyond fathoming; his moves always carry purpose. Whoever prompts such caution from Mr. Tu, Foundation Establishment or not, isn’t for you lot to babble over."

"Watch out, lest you tangle in karmic cause and effect, meeting your end by his hand."

These remarks hushed all demon cultivators like winter cicadas.

The Great Wilderness Prison never detained mere mortals.

Particularly not in this profound stratum of the Great Wilderness Prison.

Certain individuals may lack lofty cultivation realms, yet their karmic connections prove utterly fearsome. Without a robust Life Chart, entanglement spells instant death.

Though these Great Wilderness Prison guards might not grasp karmic ties or Life Charts fully, they’d witnessed countless demonic path comrades with frail Life Charts perish from such entanglements, imprinting the forbidden lines clearly.

From then on, none of these demon cultivators dared peek at Mo Hua, nor venture nearer than three meters to him.

...

Within the dungeon.

Mo Hua gazed upward at the ceiling, sensing its lofty height, constricted like a bottomless chasm.

He extended a hand to probe the walls; the rock surfaces proved extraordinarily firm, rough and irregular, reminiscent of skeletal remains.

Through Divine Sense scan, a high-rank Third-Grade Evil Formation etched into the stone wall revealed itself.

This high-rank Third-Grade Evil Formation locked down the entire cell, hindering Mo Hua’s Blood Qi and Spiritual Power circulation, leaving even his Divine Sense faintly vertiginous.

"No way out..."

In the Third-Grade State Boundary, this prison stood as an absolute "dead end."

Mr. Tu had truly honored him by imprisoning him here—completely isolated, devoid of any wiggle room.

Mo Hua let out a faint sigh, "Well then, I’m here, so I’ll settle in comfortably."

Plenty remains to handle. The present circumstances stay murky; rash moves would be unwise.

Even beneath the dungeon Evil Formation’s pressure, his Divine Sense tires swiftly.

In that case, better to recover one’s strength and catch some rest.

The cell’s walls loomed grim and suffocating, marred by bloodstains, the atmosphere thick with stale blood and decay.

From some crevice, Yin energy leaked in, icy and bone-piercing.

Mo Hua patted his waist, retrieving his Storage Bag.

Surprisingly for Mo Hua, Mr. Tu left his Storage Bag untouched.

Naturally, this Storage Bag held no valuables—just lowly Spirit Stones, formation materials, Pills, and a Second Grade Formation Diagram...

The real treasures hid within Mo Hua’s Storage Ring.

Should Mr. Tu seize it, he’d claim mere "trash."

From the Storage Bag, Mo Hua pulled formation materials and brush, inscribed a Clear Wind Formation to banish the cell’s foul odor, followed by a Warm Wind Formation for comfort, grabbed a thin blanket to wrap up in, then reclined on the ground, ready for deep slumber.

Yet the moment he settled, Mo Hua glanced up to find a massive, gore-drenched eyeball fixated on him.

Sleep proves elusive under a watcher’s gaze.

Especially from such an enormous, blood-soaked eyeball.

Mo Hua stated coolly, "You’re ruining my rest."

Now lodged in the Evil God’s "headquarters," he had no desire to make waves.

Besides, fresh from "feeding," his appetite lacked.

The bloody eyeball quivered violently before snapping shut at once.