"Orphan?" Mo Hua was somewhat incredulous, "The âSolitaryâ of Solitary Mountain City, is it the âsolitaryâ of orphans?"
"Not entirely," Master Gu explained, "Solitary Mountain City is adjacent to Solitary Mountain, and this Solitary Mountain was originally called âGuhuang Mountain.â"
"The mountain was rich in bright yellow copper ore, which was golden, pure, and dazzlingly brilliant, more luminous than gold when plated on spiritual artifacts, treasures, and palaces, hence highly esteemed by renowned families."
"Later, this bright yellow copper ore was overexploited, extracted until it was entirely gone, leaving behind only this scarred and desolate, dark black mining mountain. Due to the decline of the mines, the number of cultivators dwindled, and orphans increased significantly, hence the mountain came to be called âSolitary Mountain,â and the city, âSolitary Mountain Cityâ..."
Mo Hua glanced around, spotting dozens of frail, dark-skinned orphans carrying stones on their backs. After a silent moment, he sighed.
Some are born into wealth and live a life of luxury.
And some seem destined to toil and suffer from birth.
This suffering only grows, persisting until death...
Mo Hua furrowed his brow, feeling conflicted.
Suddenly, a child carrying a bamboo basket slipped and fell to the ground, spilling coarse, worthless black stones all over.
This child didnât mind the wound on his scraped knee but immediately got up, scrambling to gather the stones back into the basket, as if afraid someone might steal them.
Most of these stones are worthless.
But the child still treasured them like gems.
This is his only means of livelihood; he can only have a meal by picking up these worthless stone scraps.
Outside, other children might indeed snatch them away.
Fortunately, being near the refinery shop, everyone adhered to order, and no one took his stones.
The child picked up the stones, placed them back in the basket, and shouldered it once more.
The heavy basket immediately bent his small frame, and the straps left two bruises on his shoulders.
This child was queuing with the basket on his back.
He could have put the basket down for a short rest, but it seemed he was used to it.
Perhaps because the thought of putting it down unsettled him, worried he wouldnât get a meal.
So he continued to bend his back, numbly carrying the heavy burden.
He wasnât alone; all the children nearby were doing the same.
Mo Hua couldnât help but walk over.
The child noticed someone approaching, looked up, and saw a young gentleman with skin as fair as jade, his demeanor gentle as water, elegant as if from the heavens. Stunned for a moment, he then averted his eyes, a bit ashamed.
Mo Hua looked with compassion and reached to take the basket off his back.
The child trembled with fear but, after a brief hesitation, did not resist, allowing Mo Hua to take the basket.
Mo Hua was weak by nature, but this was relative to Foundation Establishment cultivators. He wasnât below the standard of ordinary Qi Refinement.
The basket was heavy, filled with pitch-black stones.
Mo Hua weighed it and, after a quick thought, took out a Formation Pen.
He intended to draw a formation on the basket, but as soon as he started, he paused and fell into contemplation.
He couldnât draw something difficult.
The basketâs material was poor and easily damaged, unable to bear complex formation structures.
He couldnât draw a high-rank formation.
The spirit stone consumption was too high, and these kids couldnât afford them.
Even an ordinary formation containing nine patterns would be too "luxurious" for these children.
After careful thought, Mo Hua slowly began to draw.
He drew only one formation pattern.
The simplest first-grade formation pattern.
An Eight Trigrams Wind Formation Pattern.
Once the pattern was complete, a faint light shone and merged with the basket.
Mo Hua gently said, "Try carrying it again."
The child, puzzled and bewildered, shouldered the basket again. He froze, looking at Mo Hua in disbelief.
As he lifted the basket, the pattern lit up, and a gentle wind from below lightly lifted the basket.
The entire load seemed lighter, no longer such a heavy burden.
His shoulders wouldnât be sore from the straps.
His back straightened a bit.
This was just the simplest first-grade formation pattern, hardly qualifying as a formation, and the power it contained was minimal. But for these children, it was enough to give them a breather from the weight of fate.
Looking at the pattern, Mo Hua suddenly understood what Elder Zheng meant.
The heavens encompass all life, without distinction of rank.
The path of formations encompasses all techniques, without distinction of level.
High-rank formations are obscure and profound, able to exhaust formation principles and explore the Heavenly Dao.
But only low-rank formations, spread throughout the world, can truly benefit the common people.
Sometimes, formations arenât even needed; just a simple pattern or two suffices.
In a flash of inspiration, Mo Huaâs heart trembled.
The simpler, the easier to learn, disseminate, and apply, the more likely it could change the plight of the most disadvantaged people on the largest scale.
Could this be the ultimate form of the "Dao"?
Using the "simplest" form to encompass the vast, infinite Great Dao, spreading its will across the world, uniting all beings, achieving universal harmony?
This is truly the Daoâs simplicity, returning to the essence?
Mo Hua was shaken to his core.
Suddenly, he recalled the "Returning to the Source" algorithm, the Five Elements Sectâs sect-protecting legacy.
Simplifying the complex, unifying all formations.
Reducing the voluminous formations to a single "Source Pattern" imbued with the Five Elements Lawâcould it also embody this principle?
From simplicity to complexity, mastering all formations under heaven.