The Quest for Immortality Chapter 2317: Beheading (2)

"The Desolate Heaven Blood Sacrifice Formation ranks as a Quasi-Third Grade Grand Array, housing a Second Grade Formation Pivot within, intricate and deep, falling short of twenty patterns yet nearly there."

"With your present Divine Sense, grasping it would prove immensely challenging."

"Yet, should you cast aside certain ’prejudices’ and borrow a bit of ’external forces’ to boost your Divine Sense and comprehension, you might indeed unravel the central Formation Pivot of this Desolate Heaven Blood Sacrifice Formation."

"Moreover, aided by these external forces, you could even briefly peer into the stage beyond Foundation Establishment."

Mr. Tu’s remarks brimmed with allure, "Don’t you crave the sensation of a Divine Sense 20 Patterns Core Formation?"

Mo Hua, already possessing a core in his Divine Sense, wrestled with deep turmoil, but he compelled himself to show ’yearning’ on his face, only for it to twist into conflict moments later.

Mr. Tu at last spoke indifferently, "I’ve said it before, I’m not compelling you. Take these items; whether you employ them is your choice."

With those words, Mr. Tu departed, abandoning Mo Hua to furrow his brow in solitary inner turmoil.

Later, Mo Hua resumed studying the Blood Sacrifice Formation Pivot.

Human bones, skin, and blood lay temptingly close at hand.

Whenever Mo Hua tried to decipher the formation, mulling over it without success, his eyes inevitably drifted to the nearby evil path formation pen, blood ink, and formation media, his stare filled with agony.

Multiple times, his hand instinctively moved to seize the White Bone Pen, yet he clenched his teeth each time, suppressing the urge with sheer will.

Losing restraint invites disorder in the Great Dao; a single error leads to irreversible ruin.

So he battled this inner conflict for an extended period until he sensed Mr. Tu’s icy scrutiny had eased, allowing him a relieved breath as he dropped the pretense.

Painting formations drains one’s energy, but ’acting’ demands equal effort.

In particular, performing in front of a cunning ’old fiend’ like Mr. Tu tests acting prowess to the limit. Naturally, it also serves as rigorous training.

This builds valuable experience.

The more performances one gives, the better one masters Divine Sense to govern inner feelings, facial shifts, and even minor bodily twitches, refining acting to flawless heights where emotions flow authentically. Thus, facing akin old monsters later becomes far smoother.

This represents an unconventional application of Heaven Yan Jue’s Divine Sense mastery.

Mo Hua had gradually uncovered this through years of encounters with diverse cultivators and demonic figures.

Life mirrors a drama, hinging entirely on performance skill.

It may seem trivial, yet its utility is profound.

"This Mr. Tu is truly devious."

"He first imparts the formation, making me sense endless hurdles, then dangles a ’shortcut’, luring me to ’cut corners’ so a slip could drag me onto his wicked trail..."

Mo Hua shook his head.

Now that Mr. Tu’s wariness toward him had waned, Mo Hua could immerse himself fully in examining the Formation Pivot as planned.

He’d just sporadically ’perform’, casting longing looks at the human skin and blood to dupe Mr. Tu.

Yet after prolonged ’acting’, while eyeing the human skin and blood, a notion suddenly welled from Mo Hua’s heart’s depths:

"Employing these human skin and blood would surely empower my formations, easing the path to mastering the Ultimate Formation..."

"Why not... give it a shot?"

"Experience painting formations with human blood and skin..."

This idea ignited like a raging blaze in Mo Hua’s heart the instant it arose, seizing his entire consciousness.

Propelled by intrigue and craving, Mo Hua actually extended his hand toward the White Bone Pen, yearning to dip it in blood and draw upon human skin, sensing the shift in Divine Sense and the array’s might...

His fingertips nearly brushed the White Bone Pen when a icy wave flooded his heart.

An archaic, grave bell toll echoed faintly by his ears.

Mo Hua jolted awake, yanking back his hand in terror:

"That was too close; I nearly ’acted’ myself right into it."

Each performance plants a seed of suggestion, deceiving foes and self alike.

Repeated too much, it turns belief real, birthing malevolent urges in the heart.

Mo Hua grew profoundly wary.

"Should this happen again, I must stay alert, refusing to succumb to such corrupting temptations."

"A gentleman stays cautious in solitude, remains honest amid shadows. Greater the isolation, firmer the self-restraint and purity of one’s heart must be."

"Only a truly steadfast Taoist Heart can shield one from every evil."

"Must, must regard this as a stern warning."

Mo Hua nodded gravely, then resumed inscribing the formation...

...

Meanwhile, at the very heart of the Blood and Flesh Maze.

Darkness brooded ominously, flesh twisted and convulsed.

Surrounded by heaps of skeletons, an altar stood erected.

Upon the altar towered a massive, ominous, blood-drenched white statue of the human-faced, ram-horned Evil God, exuding a chilling eeriness.

Kneeling before the altar, skull in hand, Mr. Tu lifted his head slowly, eyes fixed on the pale cranium he held.

A fissure suddenly split the skull.

His Great Wilderness Bewitching God Witchcraft had been shattered.

Mr. Tu's brows knitted together.

Even such delicate illusions could be perceived and countered by him?

At such a tender age, how could his Taoist Heart possess such unyielding strength?

This resolve outshines even Shangguan Wang, who has persisted for centuries...

Regret tinged Mr. Tu's thoughts, yet admiration prevailed, a spark of glee flickering in his gaze.

"This is a good thing..."

Mr. Tu rose steadily, offered a deep, respectful bow to the human-faced, ram-horned Evil God statue, then withdrew from the altar. He moved to a nearby white bone desk and unfurled a scroll of human skin parchment.