Chapter 81: Qian Xing
Zhang Lan's gaze couldn't leave Aunt Xue—her graceful bearing had him utterly entranced.
Mo Hua's expression grew even more disdainful as he looked at him.
Zhang Lan coughed, straightened his robe, and with a serious face that still carried a trace of flattery, said toward Aunt Xue:
"Zhang Lan, at your service. May I know this Daoist friend's name…?"
Aunt Xue didn't even glance at him. She simply turned to Mo Hua and said, "Mo Hua, we'll wait for you up ahead." With that, she left, taking Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi with her—leaving Zhang Lan standing there alone, his sycophantic smile frozen on his face.
Mo Hua looked at Zhang Lan with genuine pity. He wanted to pat him on the shoulder but couldn't reach, so he settled for patting his waist instead.
"Everyone faces setbacks in life, Uncle Zhang. Try to see the bright side…"
Coming from Mo Hua's childish voice, the comfort lost all comforting power.
Zhang Lan muttered in confusion, "My looks aren't bad, my cultivation's decent, and I conduct myself with the proper elegance of a noble family disciple. Why won't she even say a single word to me?"
Though Mo Hua disliked his narcissism, he had to admit—the man had a point.
"Maybe Aunt Xue misheard your name as 'Scumbag' instead of 'Zhang Lan'? You could try changing your name to see if that helps?" Mo Hua suggested seriously.
(TN: "Zha Nan" = "scumbag" in Chinese.)
Zhang Lan stared blankly at him.
After a few more perfunctory words of comfort, Zhang Lan sighed and walked off, still sulking.
Mo Hua then caught up to Aunt Xue and the others, and they strolled around the market for a while longer. By the time it was halfway past the Chou hour (around 2 a.m.), they all went home.
Bai Zisheng had bought plenty of things and even forced a pile of odd trinkets onto Mo Hua, who couldn't refuse no matter how much he tried.
Mo Hua had also bought gifts for his parents:
For Liu Ruhua, another Fire-Repelling Hairpin, better crafted than the previous one he had gifted her.
He erased the old array inscribed inside and personally redrew a new, more intricate one with additional array patterns.
Before returning home, he even went to find Master Chen to help dismantle the hairpin, re-engraved the array, and had it reassembled.
For Mo Shan, he prepared a jade pendant, inside of which he drew a Miasma-Clearing Array. Once activated, it could dispel a certain range of toxic or poisonous vapors in the mountains—though its effect was limited.
Both Mo Shan and Liu Ruhua were delighted—not just because of the gifts, but because they contained arrays drawn by Mo Hua's own hands.
After the bustling Monster-Hunting Festival ended, Tōngxiān City quieted down again. Cultivators resumed their usual lives—Mo Hua included.
He still had to improve his cultivation and had much to learn in the way of formation arts.
...
One day, while returning home from Mister Zhuang's, he was walking along the street, mulling over the teachings and mentally reviewing the arrays he still needed to learn—when suddenly, a group of people blocked his path.
Looking up, he saw a slender young man in ornate silken robes, shaking a gold-dusted folding fan and wearing a smug expression.
"Young Master Qian?"
Qian Xing—the youngest son of the Qian family patriarch.
The Qian family was the wealthiest and most powerful clan in Tōngxiān City. As the patriarch's youngest legitimate son, Qian Xing was the most doted upon.
Being the youngest, he had no need to worry about inheritance or responsibility—only about eating, drinking, and playing. Mo Hua's only dealings with him had been writing formation homework for him a few times back in the Tōngxiān Sect.
"Do you need something?"
Qian Xing smiled pleasantly. "Indeed, I do. I'd like to ask a small favor."
"What favor?" Mo Hua had a bad feeling about this.
Qian Xing cleared his throat and said, "That night during the Monster-Hunting Festival, I happened to see you—there was a little girl behind you wearing a veil. Do you know her?"
A veiled little girl? He meant Bai Zixi.
"I suppose… you could say I know her."
Qian Xing's eyes brightened with excitement. "Then introduce me to her. I'd like to make her acquaintance."
That night, among the crowd of family disciples, Qian Xing had spotted the veiled girl behind Mo Hua. Though still young, her refined temperament had left a deep impression on him—one that haunted him ever since.
He'd tried to find out who she was, but no one knew. So he decided to approach Mo Hua—and after days of searching, finally found him.
"Not close. Can't call her out," Mo Hua said flatly.
Qian Xing chuckled. "You walked the streets together. Don't tell me you're not close. Don't worry—just agree to help me, and you'll be well rewarded. Do you want spirit stones or a spiritual tool?"
Mo Hua's tone turned cold. "And if I refuse?"
The smile faded from Qian Xing's face. "Then you're refusing my goodwill."
Your goodwill's worth less than pocket lint, Mo Hua thought.
"I'm heading home," Mo Hua said, "move aside."
"Move aside?"
Qian Xing blinked, then sneered. "In Tōngxiān City, people make way for me. No one dares tell me to move aside."
His expression darkened.
"I'll say it again—call that girl out so I can meet her. Do that, and I'll overlook your insolence. Otherwise… I'll make your parents regret ever giving birth to you, letting you suffer pointlessly in this world!"
Mo Hua's eyes narrowed, his tone laced with mockery.
"If anyone should regret, it's your father—for giving birth to a useless disgrace like you."
It was just an offhand insult—but Qian Xing's reaction was immediate and shocking.
His face went pale, then twisted in fury.
The street fell silent.
Even the hangers-on behind him were dumbfounded. They'd followed Qian Xing long enough to see him throw his weight around countless times, but never had anyone dared curse him to his face.
Mo Hua blinked.
Did I really say something that bad?
If he can't handle that, he'd die on the spot if I really started swearing.
Ah… spoiled young masters truly have fragile Dao hearts.
Qian Xing's blood surged; his eyes reddened, veins bulging. Trembling with rage, he pointed at Mo Hua and roared:
"Kill him! Kill him for me!"
Mo Hua frowned. Really? All that over one insult?
Qian Xing's lackeys hesitated. "Uh… Young Master, you really want him dead?"
Qian Xing glared murderously. "Either he dies—or you do. Choose."
Most of them were Qian family bastards or outer followers who fed off Qian Xing's scraps. If they displeased him, they'd be kicked out like dogs.
One of them sneered. "Kid, bad luck for you. Next life, keep your eyes open." He threw a vicious punch toward Mo Hua's forehead—clearly aiming to kill.
But before the punch landed, a hand caught it mid-air.
The attacker tried to pull back, but the grip was iron-strong—his bones creaked audibly before he could even cry out. A fist slammed into his face, sending him flying backward like a rag doll. He crashed into a wall, blood spraying from his nose, and collapsed unconscious.
The others froze, stunned.
Then they saw who was standing behind Mo Hua—a tall, muscular youth with a steely expression.
It was Dazhu, Master Chen's apprentice from the Refining Workshop.
Normally simple and good-natured, Dazhu now stood silent, muscles taut like iron, exuding a quiet, intimidating power as he guarded Mo Hua's back.
Mo Hua's expression remained calm.
After all, in the southern streets of Tōngxiān City—if a fight broke out—his connections weren't half bad.
(End of Chapter)