Mo Hua became interested.
He looked carefully several times again, confirming that this white-faced man's fireball technique indeed had some uniqueness, different from ordinary fireball techniques.
Mo Hua still wanted to research more.
Scarface and the white-faced man had already stopped fighting.
This was Black Mountain Village, and they had to guard the mountain gate. If something went wrong due to a temporary grudge, both of them would lose their lives.
So even if they fought, it was just a light spar, not daring to truly engage.
Mo Hua was somewhat disappointed.
He had hoped the two of them would fight to the death so he could pick up the pieces.
But the result was a lot of noise and little action; they only exchanged a few moves and then stopped.
Scarface and the white-faced man each said a few harsh words, then sat down together again and drank inferior wine, as if nothing had happened.
But in the glances between them, there was killing intent in both their eyes.
Mo Hua thought for a moment, still very interested in the white-faced man's fireball technique.
He now had self-protection spells, but his offensive spells were a bit weak.
Although the fireball technique was fast and accurate, its power was indeed average.
If he could learn the secret of the fireball technique from the white-faced man, he wouldn't need to learn other spells and could also enhance his own offensive methods.
Mo Hua kept this in mind, so after daytime, he began to track the white-faced man.
He saw that after the white-faced man finished his night watch, he went straight back to his own room.
The white-faced man was just an ordinary evil cultivator. His room was no different from other evil cultivators' rooms, still quite spacious but messy. It wasn't particularly bloody, but there was a large box in the corner.
After staying the night, the white-faced man looked tired. He rested for a while, then got up and began to meditate and cultivate with his eyes closed.
Mo Hua watched with some surprise.
It seemed the white-faced man didn't use spirit stones when he cultivated.
Without using spirit stones, what could he cultivate? Cultivate the air?
After a while, the white-faced man opened his eyes, and a trace of irritability flashed in his gaze.
He walked straight to the corner of the wall and opened the large box there.
Mo Hua lay on the roof beam, tilting his head to look, and saw that inside the box, there was actually a living cultivator!
That cultivator had a sallow, thin face and shrank timidly inside the box, not daring to make a sound.
The white-faced man commanded, "Come out."
When that cultivator heard the words, his gaze dully shifted slightly, then he walked out.
"Kneel down!"
That cultivator did not resist and knelt down as he was told.
When the white-faced man saw the person kneeling in front of him, his eyes showed excitement, then he pressed the palm of his hand on his forehead.
The cultivator's spiritual power began to flow in reverse, then from the white-faced man's palm, it gathered towards his dantian.
That cultivator seemed used to the reversal, looking wooden, neither resisting nor making a sound, like a piece of wood, a dead thing, enduring the fate of having his spiritual power extracted.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the white-faced man had sucked his fill of spiritual power, feeling satisfied in his heart, and his pale white face also gained some color.
He patted the cultivator's face and said in a condescending tone:
"I taught you the cultivation method, you must cultivate well."
"You must remember, it was I who saved your life, allowing you to become a 'spirit slave'. This is a great favor to you. Otherwise, you would have long ago been sucked dry into a human husk by other evil cultivators."
"You can still be alive now, it's all thanks to me!"
After the white-faced man finished, he pointed to the box and said: "Go back, and don't make a sound."
That cultivator, who was treated as a 'spirit slave', again walked back to the wooden box looking wooden, silently curled up inside the box, not emitting a single sound.
Mo Hua watched, his heart turning cold.
Only then did he know that the so-called spirit slave was simply treating cultivators as slaves and squeezing their spiritual power dry.
These cultivators, rather than being people, were more like moving 'spirit stones'.
They actually treated people as spirit slaves and spirit stones.
Mo Hua's small eyebrows furrowed.
As Elder Yu had said, the cultivators here were indeed all beasts.
After the white-faced man sucked the 'spirit slave's' spiritual power, he began to meditate and refine it.
The spiritual energy of spirit stones was pure, while the spiritual power of cultivators was diverse.
Refining the spiritual power of other cultivators, although easier and more convenient, would repel one's own spiritual power, give rise to evil strangeness, and easily cause a major change in one's nature, leading to cultivation deviation.
Therefore, cultivation methods that involved sucking spiritual power were all regarded as evil arts and were not tolerated by the Dao Court.
This was something Zhang Lan had told Mo Hua.
The white-faced man sucked the spirit slave's spiritual power and meditated to refine it, his facial expression changing unpredictably.
Sometimes ferocious, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes crazed, sometimes mixed with pain and pleasure.
After a moment, the white-faced man finished cultivating and restored his appearance of being pale-faced and weak, but his cultivation aura had indeed enhanced somewhat.
The white-faced man was in a joyful mood and took out a book from his storage bag, concentrating on flipping through it.
Mo Hua secretly glanced and his heart skipped a beat.
Part of the book's cover was blocked by the white-faced man, but two words were exposed: "Huǒ qiú."
Huǒ qiú Technique!
Indeed, this white-faced man cultivated a special huǒ qiú technique!
If it were a general huǒ qiú technique, there was no reason for him to treat it as a treasure, carry it with him, and still take it out to research from time to time.
However, this secret book of the huǒ qiú technique was carried by him, so Mo Hua couldn't steal it easily.
It seemed he could only wait for an opportunity later.
Before Mo Hua left, he glanced again at the wooden box in the corner. Inside the wooden box was a spirit slave.
That spirit slave's age should not have been old, but his face was sallow and thin, his spiritual power extracted, making him look much older.
Although he looked dull and expressionless now, perhaps he was once a cheerful and kind youth.
He wondered if his parents knew he had fallen into Black Mountain Village?
Thinking of this, Mo Hua sighed.
His current cultivation was limited; he simply couldn't save him.
If his cultivation level became high in the future, he must kill all these evil demons and outsiders one by one!
Mo Hua thought angrily.
Days passed, and Mo Hua was still wholeheartedly drawing the map.
One day Mo Hua was a bit hungry, so he went to the kitchen of Black Mountain Village to find some food.
The kitchen in Black Mountain Village was very large, and its location was also relatively remote.
It was somewhat dirty and messy inside, with bloodstains everywhere, and various blocks of meat placed on the table.
Mo Hua didn't know what kind of meat these were, so he didn't dare to eat them.
He only stole some wild fruits and pastries to fill his stomach.
Before he came, he didn't think he would stay in Black Mountain Village for so long, so there wasn't much food in his storage bag.
Now the things in his storage bag were already eaten, so he could only eat some things from the evil cultivators to make do.
The wild fruits were a bit sour and astringent, with a bad taste.
He estimated that the poisonous miasma in the deep mountains was too thick, and the water and soil were not good, so they didn't bear any good fruits.
The pastries were even harder to eat.
Mo Hua took a bite and almost spat it out.
It was far worse than the ones his mother made.
Mo Hua missed his mother's cooking and suddenly thought again that he had stayed in Black Mountain Village for several days, and his parents had no news. He didn't know how worried they were.
Mo Hua sighed in his heart: "If I had known, I would have told my parents first to avoid their worry."
But things had already come to this, and regretting was useless.
He should quickly finish drawing the map, inquire about the news, and then go back early.
It would also save his parents from worrying.
Mo Hua nodded, then endured the strange smell and swallowed the pastries.
Although these pastries were hard to eat, they were good because they could at least fill his stomach.
At this time, he couldn't be picky about anything.
Mo Hua was eating when he suddenly heard someone speaking.
One of the voices was the old man cooking in the kitchen, and the other voice, Mo Hua listened to, was a bit familiar.
Mo Hua raised his head from under the table and secretly glanced, discovering that the other person was actually that fat cultivator.
The fat cultivator killed the thin cultivator and used the thin cultivator's head to ask for directions to enter Black Mountain Village, yet he only managed to get a job delivering food.
The old man instructed the fat cultivator, saying: "You will deliver this meal to that young master. Don't let him starve to death."
The fat cultivator nodded in response.
Mo Hua chewed the pastries and suddenly froze.
"Young master? What young master?"
Mo Hua frowned.
"Could it be... that young master of the Kong family?"
Thank you, Uncle Yan, for the rewards of Dark Night Star Morning.
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