Chapter 879: The Secret Inside the Formation
Ye Mo, clutching the Mist Lotus Heart Fire—now a pea-sized flame calmly floating in his dantian—had no time to assess his surroundings. He summoned a small, peaceful orange flame tinged with white mist, a stark contrast to the destructive power he’d wielded before. It danced gently between his fingers, then was safely stored.
Examining his body, he found it scorched and hairless. Though his supply of Lotus Life Pills was depleted, he had other remedies. After consuming cultivation recovery pills and a cleansing water spell, he shaved his head and donned clean clothes.
He then turned his attention to his surveillance formation. A tremendous rumble shook his surroundings as his spirit sense penetrated the array. He saw two figures on a nearby hill: a black-faced man with short hair and a dark mole—the same man he'd seen on the flying cart—and a thin, seemingly innocuous old man with white hair and narrowed eyes. Both emanated a palpable sense of danger. They stood tens of meters apart, separated by a deep ravine.
“Old man Sima Zhu, decades have passed, and you’re still at Hollow Spirit State Middle Stage! Unexpected,” the dark-faced cultivator stated flatly.
The skinny old man smiled. “Likewise, Tong Wusheng. You’re also at Hollow Spirit State Middle Stage.”
“Sima Zhu, where is it?” Tong Wusheng demanded coldly.
The old man sneered, producing half a book. “I brought it. Where’s yours?”
Tong Wusheng, visibly desperate, revealed his own half-book. Both men, eyes alight with intense desire, placed their halves in separate jade boxes. They retreated several kilometers, erected defensive formations, and secured the boxes within.
Ye Mo observed intricate restrictions on the boxes, designed to reduce them to ashes if seized by the opponent. He deduced their history: a shared discovery, a fight, a division of the book, and now, a final contest for possession. He also understood Tong Wusheng's earlier traps—a precaution against Sima Zhu's superior strength.
“Tong, don’t disappoint me,” Sima Zhu sneered, unleashing a black, rapidly expanding mist that pursued Tong Wusheng. Ye Mo recognized it as a net-shaped cultivation artifact through his surveillance, sensing its ominous power and wondering why Tong Wusheng would choose this location.
Tong Wusheng's cloak billowed, his eyes blazing red as he unleashed a torrent of flying swords, forming a formidable attack against the mist net. The resulting clash was earth-shattering.
“Sima Zhu, you sly dog! An Abyssal Yin Net! No wonder you chose this spot,” Tong Wusheng sneered.
Sima Zhu retorted, “Tong Wusheng, you’re no saint either. Your formations are pathetically predictable. Disappointing.”
Ye Mo was struck by their mutual cunning. He found Tong Wusheng's use of formations baffling; his familiarity with Sima Zhu's capabilities suggested he wouldn't employ easily-seen strategies. Tong Wusheng’s shocked expression confirmed Sima Zhu’s insight. He attacked ferociously, but the Abyssal Yin Net held the advantage.
Something felt amiss. Tong Wusheng’s actions seemed too naive. Why use formations Sima Zhu could easily see through? Unless… he knew Sima Zhu would see through them.
Ye Mo scrutinized Tong Wusheng's formations through his surveillance. They were far more sophisticated than initially apparent: one trap and three attack formations. The outer attack formation triggered a duplicate kill formation and a transmission trap formation, instantly transferring the jade boxes to Tong Wusheng. He had a contingency plan to prevent Sima Zhu from destroying the book. Ye Mo anticipated a thrilling spectacle.