Chapter 43: The Pursuit of Learning
When Mo Shan and his wife heard that Mo Hua had been recommended by Instructor Yan and accepted as a disciple by a highly accomplished formation master, they were overjoyed.
At first, Mo Shan had some lingering doubts. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had nothing to worry about.
Instructor Yan had taught at Tongxian Sect for many years and was highly respected. Anyone that earned his admiration and recommendation must naturally be extraordinary.
The Mo family were just ordinary rogue cultivators with no spirit stones or property—what could anyone possibly want from them?
Besides, formation masters of that caliber were people they might never even get to see under normal circumstances. This was an extremely rare opportunity.
Now that Mo Hua was studying formations and staying at home for meals, Liu Ruhua, who could see her son every day and cook for him, was even happier than before.
The next morning, after eating the rich breakfast prepared by his mother, Mo Hua set off once more for the southeastern mountain to begin his studies with Teacher Zhuang.
This time, when he reached the foot of the mountain and followed the path to the bamboo gate, he finally noticed a wooden plaque hanging at the entrance of the courtyard.
On it were the words: "Forgetful Meditation Abode" (Abode of Sitting and Forgetting).
For some reason, he hadn't noticed it at all the day before.
Entering Forgetful Meditation Abode, he found Teacher Zhuang lounging idly by the pond, resting his cheek on one hand while "fishing" with the other. The fishing rod was a slender piece of bamboo. The line dangled freely with no bait on the end.
Mo Hua peeked into the pond and found that—there weren't even any fish in it.
He figured Teacher Zhuang might be hinting at something profound… until he looked again and realized the man wasn't fishing at all. He was just… dozing off.
Fortunately, the old man from yesterday saw Mo Hua and called him over, saying:
"The master often naps like this. When he does, don't disturb him. Just leave him be."
"Oh, okay." Mo Hua nodded, still not understanding, but respecting the mystery.
The old man added: "I'm the caretaker here… you can call me Old Kui."
Mo Hua politely responded, "Grandpa Kui."
Old Kui gave Mo Hua a glance but said nothing more. He pulled out a chessboard and asked: "Do you know how to play?"
Mo Hua looked at it. "Is this… the Five Elements Chess?"
In the cultivation world, there were many kinds of chess—Eight-Trigram Chess, Five-Element Chess, Heaven-Origin Chess, Three-Talents Chess, and more. Five-Element Chess was among the simplest and most popular, mainly used as an educational tool for children to learn about the interactions of the five elements.
The rules were simple: each player controlled two types of elemental pieces. The board would randomly generate pieces of different attributes. Once flipped, the pieces interacted—matching elements strengthened one another, clashing ones canceled each other out.
It was fun, light, and didn't require much thought—a great pastime for cultivating kids.
Mo Hua didn't mind playing, but… an old man like Old Kui playing something this simple?
Old Kui seemed to notice his hesitation. "Too simple for your taste?"
Mo Hua hesitated, then replied shamelessly, "The Great Dao lies in simplicity. True wisdom returns to the original. The simpler something seems, the deeper it often is."
Old Kui paused, then lit up. "That's a great excuse. Next time someone doubts me, I'll say that!"
Mo Hua: "…"
And so, they began their game.
At first, Mo Hua assumed Old Kui must be a hidden master, so he focused completely. But a few rounds in, he discovered that Old Kui was evenly matched with him—neither brilliant nor bad. About the same level of mediocrity.
Relieved, Mo Hua dropped his guard, and the two played cheerfully.
Before he knew it, it was noon. Only then did Mo Hua remember why he had come.
Teacher Zhuang, still lounging by the pond, slowly opened his eyes, glanced at the sun, and nodded.
"Time for lunch."
And so, after spending the entire morning playing games, Mo Hua smoothly scored a free meal too.
Lunch was made by Old Kui. It had meat, vegetables, and rice, all brimming with spiritual energy—yet the flavor was… hard to describe.
Old Kui didn't exactly look like a master chef.
Teacher Zhuang, however, didn't care. Grain entering the belly became energy. The pleasures of taste were illusions. No matter how the food tasted, he ate each bite gracefully, as if consuming mist and dew from the heavens.
Mo Hua admired his poise and tried to imitate him—eating slowly and elegantly, one bite at a time. But no matter how hard he tried, it felt awkward. In the end, he gave up and just dug in earnestly with his bowl.
Despite the strange taste, the ingredients were top-tier and rich in spiritual energy—and Mo Hua wasn't picky to begin with.
Old Kui, seeing how heartily Mo Hua ate, smiled and added a few more pieces of meat to his bowl.
...
After the meal, Teacher Zhuang seemed to finally remember Mo Hua's reason for coming. He led him to a bamboo pavilion in the courtyard.
A breeze blew in from all sides. The rustle of bamboo leaves was soothing.
"I've taken on students before," Zhuang said, "but they learned different things than you. Let me see what level you're at."
He asked Mo Hua a few formation-related questions. Mo Hua answered them all.
After a moment of contemplation, Teacher Zhuang pulled out a thick book and said:
"Your theoretical foundation is far too weak. What you've learned so far is all basic rune patterns, scattered and incomplete. With such a shaky base, learning more advanced formations will become increasingly difficult. Your progress in the Dao of Formations will be limited."
He handed the tome to Mo Hua.
"You need to start from the beginning. This book covers the foundational theories of formations in the cultivation world—different schools, elemental alignments, theoretical frameworks. Memorize it. Understand what you can, and ask me about what you can't. Once your foundation is solid, I'll teach you how to draw formations."
Mo Hua accepted the hefty formation manual and said earnestly, "Thank you, Teacher!"
Teacher Zhuang waved a hand casually.
"Go find a comfortable spot in the courtyard. I'm going to rest my eyes again."
Mo Hua bowed, then took the book, "Origin of Formation Arts' Compendium", and found a shady patch of soft grass beneath a tree. He lay down and began reading.
The book's opening lines declared that the ancient immortals observed the heavens above and the earth below, studying the transformations of all things to comprehend the Dao. They then created formations to mirror these natural patterns—granting them mysterious and immense powers.
Among all the cultivation disciplines, formation Dao was the most direct method for understanding Heaven's Will—and also the most demanding in terms of divine sense.
Formation masters were ranked by nine grades, with the ninth grade being the highest. Above that were the legendary Immortal Formation Masters.
But immortal-grade formation masters were just myths. In the past 20,000 years, no one had truly ascended. Naturally, no one had become an immortal formation master, and the nature of their world-altering formations remained unknown.
Even Ninth Grade formation masters had no solid records. Eighth Grade was considered a legend. Only a few Sixth or Seventh Grade masters had documented existence—and they were all from great clans, ancient sects, or high-ranking court elders. To ordinary cultivators, these were figures as distant as stars.
Fifth to Third Grade formation masters had more documented appearances. Below that, there were no names—clearly, unless one achieved some unparalleled innovation in the field, low-grade formation masters were not worthy of being recorded in history.
After the historical section came an introduction to different schools of formation thought and common terminology.
Different clans, sects, and regions had wildly varying formation traditions. Even a single formation might have splintered into many micro-lineages over time. These differences affected how formations were learned, studied, applied—and what effects they produced.
Major powers treated their core formation knowledge as top-secret and continued to develop them internally. This had led to a flourishing yet fragmented field: rich in variety, but each school isolated from the rest.
Formations were categorized by their cores—types included Two Forms, Three Talents, Four Symbols, Five Elements, Six Harmonies, Seven Stars, and Eight Trigrams, among others. The most widespread were the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams formations, though each type had its own unique uses.
…
Mo Hua spent most of the day skimming through Origin of Formation Arts' Compendium. After finishing, he felt both enlightened—and profoundly insignificant.
For someone like him, even reaching First Grade would be a monumental task. The Dao of Formations was like a boundless ocean, and Mo Hua, not even a proper formation master yet, was but a single drop within it.
(End of the Chapter)