SWNOVELXO Chapter 46: Chapter 597: Little Senior Brother
Chapter 597: Little Senior Brother
The Lecture Hall fell silent—then suddenly erupted into an uproar.
"Mo Hua's going to teach?"
"Why him?"
"…"
Old Mister Xun's face darkened. He swept his gaze across the room.
The disciples, cowed by his authority, immediately quieted down, not daring to whisper another word.
Mo Hua, however, mumbled softly, "Sir… I don't think I'm suitable to teach…"
Old Mister Xun replied calmly, "You're very suitable."
A formation master with solid fundamentals, capable of accurately drawing a mid-grade Grade Two formation—what's so unsuitable about teaching a couple of Grade One formations?
"But…"
Mo Hua still hesitated.
Old Mister Xun gave him a meaningful look. "Teach them well."
Mo Hua froze.
He felt like there was some deeper implication behind those words… but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.
Seeing that Old Mister Xun looked like he wouldn't take no for an answer, Mo Hua could only cup his hands and say, "Yes, sir."
Old Mister Xun nodded, handed him a few sets of lecture notes, and instructed:
"Just teach these two formations. Teach boldly—there's nothing to worry about."
With that, Old Mister Xun got up and left, his footsteps light and drifting as he headed toward the rear mountains.
Only Mo Hua and the bewildered disciples remained in the Lecture Hall, exchanging looks.
Mo Hua felt a little awkward, but remembering Old Mister Xun's instructions, he steeled himself and opened the lecture notes.
Before he could even speak, a burly figure stood up.
This burly guy was named Cheng Mo, a body cultivator—tall, strong, and ironically, not very "mo" (silent). In fact, he was quite the chatterbox.
Cheng Mo waited until Old Mister Xun was out of sight before plucking up his courage and speaking out, somewhat reluctantly:
"Mo Hua, we're on good terms, but seriously—you teaching us formations? I'm not convinced!"
I, Cheng Mo, also have my pride!
He added silently to himself.
The other disciples nodded in agreement.
Back in their respective clans, each of them had been a so-called "pride of heaven." Now at the Great Void Sect, though surrounded by other prodigies, that inner pride still lingered.
It was acceptable for elders or instructors to lecture and pass down teachings—
—but a fellow disciple? No way.
Even if Mo Hua had a decent reputation and no one disliked him, when it came to something as sacred as a "master-disciple" teaching role, it was hard not to feel some resistance. There had to be an explanation.
Mo Hua sighed.
He honestly just wanted to stay lowkey, quietly train, and study formations.
But Old Mister Xun, for some reason, had thrown him into the spotlight at a time like this.
Still, now that things had reached this point, Mo Hua wasn't about to back down.
When it came to formations, he'd never feared anyone.
Especially these same-age juniors!
Mo Hua's expression took on a faint trace of the same dismissive aura usually seen on Master Zhuang's face.
"Then you tell me—what counts as being qualified?"
Cheng Mo's gaze sharpened. "Let's have a contest!"
Mo Hua glanced at him calmly. "You?"
Cheng Mo shrank slightly under Mo Hua's clear and slightly sharp gaze, suddenly feeling less confident.
"I… I…"
He was fairly familiar with Mo Hua and knew roughly how strong his formation skills were—maybe not the full extent, but definitely leagues above his own.
His challenge had been a moment of heated emotion, a hot-headed impulse.
But if they were seriously going to duel in formations… wasn't he just asking to be humiliated?
In the sect, his formation skills weren't quite bottom-tier… but definitely bottom five.
It'd be like Mo Hua challenging him in a body cultivation contest…
Just then, another disciple stepped up. "If you're going to teach us, you should compete against all of us!"
Even as he said it, he felt a little guilty.
Ganging up on one person… even if they won, it wouldn't be a fair victory.
But Mo Hua replied casually, "Sure. All of you, come at once."
The Lecture Hall went dead silent.
The disciples stared in stunned disbelief. The normally mild and easygoing Mo Hua just said that?
Rage ignited in the room.
"Fine!"
"Let's compete and see whose formations are really better!"
"Mo Hua, we'll show you that there's always someone stronger out there!"
"If you lose, you have to call us 'brother'!"
"Not just 'brother'—you have to call us Senior Brother!"
"That's right! Say it—Senior! Brother!"
…
Mo Hua rolled his eyes. Who ends up calling whom "senior brother" remains to be seen.
Formation contests had formal rules.
He hadn't participated in many before—just a small taste back at the Five Elements Sect.
Despite the variations and complexities, most formation contests boiled down to three things: speed, accuracy, and difficulty.
This one would be similar.
Since they were still in class and time was limited, they'd keep it short and simple. Just decide the winner.
First test: who could draw faster.
And just like that, the group froze.
They'd all seen how fast Mo Hua could draw formations before.
It was like watching flowing clouds and rushing water. His fingers moved so fast they nearly left afterimages.
But even if they couldn't win, they couldn't lose momentum!
Even if they lost in the end, they had to go down swinging!
Several disciples who thought their drawing speed was decent stepped up "nobly," ready to go head-to-head with Mo Hua on the large formation plate in front of the class…
They were all utterly crushed.
Before they even got halfway done, Mo Hua had already finished—with energy to spare.
In fact, he had deliberately slowed down a little… just to save them some face.
The challengers stepped down, faces ashen with shame.
Next test: accuracy and elegance.
They were to draw the same formation. Whoever drew it more precisely, with more grace and deeper fundamentals, would win.
Everyone there had studied formations. They could tell good from bad at a glance.
A few more confident disciples stepped forward.
They had inherited real formation skills from their families, and the arrays they drew were neat, beautiful, and expertly constructed. After finishing, they were visibly proud.
Then they glanced over at Mo Hua's formation—and instantly felt hollow inside.
His formation was immaculate, accurate to the hair's breadth. It looked like it had been lifted straight off a formation manual.
Even more, the brush strokes were powerful and elegant, like iron hooks and silver strokes.
It was an Earth-element formation.
And Mo Hua, just for fun, infused a thread of earth-path Dao insight—so the whole formation carried a deep and steady spiritual aura.
Form and spirit—both perfect.
"Form" could be practiced with effort. But the spiritual "essence"? That was far beyond reach for most.
They didn't need to be told. They knew they'd lost.
Final round: difficulty.
A noble-looking disciple in white robes stepped up—handsome and composed.
Mo Hua remembered him. He was Wen Xuan, a direct heir of the Wen Clan from Qianzhou.
Wen Xuan was calm and deliberate. He dipped his brush and began to draw a Grade Two, Eleven-Pattern Formation.
Mo Hua was slightly surprised, then impressed.
A noble-born disciple, still in the early Foundation Establishment stage, yet able to draw an 11-pattern Grade Two formation?
Quite rare indeed…
Mo Hua nodded silently.
A genius like that… needs to be nurtured. Encouraged.
He needed to show them the gap—give them motivation to chase higher.
But not show too much of a gap, or they'd just feel hopeless.
Mo Hua pondered this "painstakingly."
Then he casually picked a Grade Two, Twelve-Pattern Formation.
He slowed down, put on a solemn expression, and "did his utmost" to draw it out.
Wen Xuan turned pale the moment he saw it. He murmured:
"Twelve patterns…"
He looked at the formation, then at Mo Hua, cupped his hands, and said: "I concede."
But the fire in his eyes was blazing.
He now saw Mo Hua as his lifelong rival.
Mo Hua nodded "appreciatively."
At last, the contest ended.
All the disciples fell silent.
You don't know until you compete—and once they had, it was clear: when it came to formations, they really couldn't beat Mo Hua…
Those who weren't deeply specialized in formations thought the contest ended almost too quickly.
A bunch of disciples stepped up, drew a formation, and stepped right back down. Some didn't even finish drawing before they realized they'd already lost.
Got up fast. Sat down faster. Which meant… they lost fast.
But those well-versed in formations knew—the gap was immense.
They vaguely felt as though between them and Mo Hua, there lay a great chasm made of array formations.
It looked close enough to reach—but no matter how they tried, they couldn't cross it.
In fact, if they weren't careful, they might fall in and drown…
Even the usually warm and friendly Mo Hua now appeared, for the first time in their eyes, as someone deep and unfathomable.
Mo Hua, meanwhile, felt… unsatisfied.
He hadn't even gone all out yet.
Seeing no one speak, he looked around and asked with interest:
"Anyone else?"
The disciples all stiffened. Then, flushed with shame and frustration, they looked at Mo Hua with expressions that screamed:
You little demon… obnoxious, unbeatable… and maddeningly smug.
Just then, a square-jawed, serious-looking disciple stood up—like he couldn't tolerate Mo Hua's "antics" any longer.
"I'll go!"
Mo Hua found him familiar, but didn't know his name.
The disciple introduced himself. "My surname is Zheng, given name Fang. I'm from the Zheng clan of Zhen Prefecture."
"Zheng Fang?" Mo Hua nodded, remembering it. "What do you want to compare?"
Zheng Fang shook his head. "In formations, I admit I'm no match for you. But I'm not comfortable being taught by you, so—I want to test you."
"Test me?"
"Exactly." Zheng Fang nodded. "My Zheng clan has a secret formation. I'll draw it once. You have one hour to replicate it."
"If you can do it, I'll admit you have exceptional insight into formations, and that you're qualified to teach us!"
"This is a test of your comprehension."
Mo Hua was stunned—momentarily dumbfounded.
You're testing me… like this?
This… this is awesome?!
Kid, are you testing me, or giving me a free clan-secret formation?!
Mo Hua's eyes sparkled. But he did his best to look calm and serious, stiffening his expression and replying sternly:
"Yes, I accept your test!"
"Good!"
Zheng Fang looked solemn and walked up to the formation plate, saying seriously:
"This formation is only Grade One, an entry-level formation. But it's a Zheng clan exclusive. I won't tell you its name, and I'll only draw it once. If you can't learn it—just admit defeat."
"Mm-hmm!" Mo Hua nodded eagerly, eyes full of expectation.
Zheng Fang began to draw.
But with just the first stroke, Mo Hua's eyes sharpened.
Thunder pattern!
"Is this… a thunder pattern?"
From a Bagua formation… a Thunder pattern?!
Zheng Clan's secret formation turned out to be… a rare thunder-type Bagua formation?!
Mo Hua was stunned.
Some disciples with broad knowledge also murmured in surprise:
"A thunder-type formation?"
"That's notoriously hard to learn…"
"Even if Mo Hua's comprehension is strong, he can't learn it in just an hour, right?"
"Yeah, no way."
"Though… this feels a little unfair…"
"Kind of a cheap shot, no?"
"What? He's the one who bragged about teaching us!"
"Well… technically, it was Old Mister Xun who told him to teach. He can't exactly say no to him…"
"…When you put it that way…"
"Yeah, doesn't seem like Mo Hua's fault."
"…Seriously, which side are you guys on? Can we get some consistency here?!"
…
While the disciples argued among themselves, Mo Hua remained completely focused.
His divine sense worked at full capacity, running rapid calculations in his sea of consciousness, analyzing the formation patterns Zheng Fang was drawing.
Each line was broken down, analyzed, and reduced to its underlying spiritual essence.
Bit by bit, the formation took shape in his mind—reconstructed fully, as clear as day.
Mo Hua frowned.
This was a very unusual thunder formation…
The spiritual flow was calm—it didn't seem designed for offense.
The structure of the runes was also… unconventional. Different from any thunder patterns he'd learned before.
The formation's core design felt familiar, but no matter how he pondered, he couldn't recall ever seeing it.
It was, objectively, a simple Grade One, Nine-Pattern formation… but its logic was foreign.
Just from the diagram alone, Mo Hua couldn't tell what it was for—let alone discern the deeper principles behind it.
He didn't know the name. Didn't know the purpose…
Just an anonymous thunder array.
Mo Hua nodded to himself.
No wonder Zheng Fang dared to show it—even if someone replicated it, they still wouldn't know its true function or significance.
Learning it was practically pointless.
Mo Hua also remembered Zheng Fang calling it a "beginner" formation of the Zheng Clan.
That implied the real secrets lay in advanced formations derived from this one.
Mo Hua glanced at Zheng Fang, quietly tagging him in his mind as a "Treasure-Delivering Boy."
Still, despite the unfamiliarity, replicating the formation wasn't hard for Mo Hua, given his experience and talent.
Especially with his Heavenly Pattern Deduction ability.
So when Zheng Fang finished and turned around confidently, expecting Mo Hua to be puzzled…
Mo Hua simply picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and with calm ease, redrew the entire formation—one he had already thoroughly analyzed.
Zheng Fang's smug expression froze on his face.
He stared at Mo Hua like he was some kind of monster. "…Have you studied this before?"
Mo Hua replied honestly:
"Just now."
Zheng Fang opened his mouth, then closed it, shoulders slumping as he walked off in quiet defeat.
Meanwhile, Mo Hua's mind was already buzzing with ideas. He looked eagerly at the other disciples:
"Anyone else want to test me?"
Preferably with a harder, rarer formation I haven't seen yet!
He was hoping.
…But no one replied.
Mo Hua tried again. Still no answer.
He regretted it now.
I should've acted more like I was struggling…
Pretended to wrack my brains, go all out, barely scrape through—just enough to bait more rare formations out of them…
Rookie mistake… too hasty.
I really need more field experience in this whole "cultivation social maneuvering" thing… gotta be sneakier next time…
He mentally took notes for future reference.
Still holding onto a sliver of hope, he asked again:
"…Anyone?"
No response.
Mo Hua sighed and said at last:
"Then I'll start teaching, okay…"
The disciples flinched—then turned red with frustration.
But at this point, there was nothing they could do.
They could only bow their heads and obediently accept Mo Hua's… "instruction."
"Alright, let's begin class!" Mo Hua said cheerfully.
And so, he began teaching.
Grade One formations weren't difficult.
For Mo Hua, teaching them was a breeze.
His foundation in lower-tier formations was incredibly solid, and he explained with practiced ease.
Whenever he came across something he didn't know how to explain, he would recall Old Mister Xun's teaching style and try to mimic it—breaking things down in a simple, clear way.
The other disciples might pout or look unconvinced, but deep down… they respected him.
They knew full well: Mo Hua's formation level was miles above theirs.
So even if their faces remained proud and tsundere-ish, they still listened intently.
In fact, while Old Mister Xun had deep mastery, he often glossed over basics.
Mo Hua was different.
He himself had only recently studied Grade One and Two formations—his understanding was fresh and grounded, making it easier for early Foundation Stage disciples to grasp.
Plus… Old Mister Xun was strict and stubborn.
Mo Hua, on the other hand, was approachable and likeable.
So without even realizing it, those in the Lecture Hall who were serious about improving started earnestly listening to Mo Hua's lessons.
He stood in front of the class, speaking clearly and steadily.
His poise and demeanor were already like a little instructor.
Who knows how much time passed before Old Mister Xun returned.
When he saw the state of the Lecture Hall, his expression flickered with surprise.
He'd expected resistance. That was only natural.
These challenges were Mo Hua's to handle. Whether or not he could earn their respect was his own business.
Xun wouldn't interfere.
What he hadn't expected… was that Mo Hua would resolve it so quickly.
And that these proud disciples were already so… well-behaved.
Old Mister Xun nodded slightly, thoughtful—then satisfied.
He didn't disturb Mo Hua and quietly left again.
…
From that point on, whenever there was something that needed doing, Old Mister Xun would have Mo Hua "substitute teach."
Sometimes, even when there wasn't anything, Old Mister Xun would "call in sick" and lazily push the job onto Mo Hua—leaving him to instruct the entire classroom of disciples.
A disciple… teaching other disciples about formations.
This quickly caught the attention of the Great Void Sect's elders.
Some of the noble clans from Qian Prefecture—families backing these disciples—also heard about it. Most were displeased and began applying pressure, prompting a few influential elders of the Great Void Sect to confront Old Mister Xun for an explanation.
A few core elders, grimacing the whole way, eventually approached Old Mister Xun. Though clearly unwilling, they still had to speak up—albeit as tactfully as possible:
"Sir, might this… be a bit against the rules?"
Old Mister Xun sipped his tea without even looking up. "What rules?"
"Uh…" The elders hesitated.
What were they supposed to say?
Many of the sect's rules had been drafted with input from this old man himself.
And now they were going to talk about rules in front of him?
But then again, Old Mister Xun was different from those other reclusive cultivators or closed-door ancestors. He had always believed firmly in his duty to "pass down the Dao and teach," and even at his advanced age, he still personally taught formation classes.
Sure, he was eccentric and stubborn—but he wasn't prideful, which gave them a little room to speak up.
One elder, after thinking a bit, said carefully:
"Having a disciple teach other disciples… It's a bit unorthodox. Not quite… legitimate, let's say…"
"Not legitimate?" Old Mister Xun blinked, furrowing his brow in thought, then nodded. "Hmm, you're right. Not legitimate."
That elder's eyes lit up. "Since that's the case…"
"Since that's the case," Old Mister Xun interrupted, "let's just make it legitimate! Give him an official title—call him a Junior Instructor. That way, everything is above board!"
Junior Instructor?!
That elder's heart sank so hard it probably cracked a rib. He panicked:
"Sir, this… He's a brand-new outer sect disciple. There's no precedent in the sect for giving such a person the title of Junior Instructor—"
"Well now there is," Old Mister Xun nodded calmly. "Someone's gotta be the first, right?"
"This can't be…"
Other elders jumped in too:
"Sir, this isn't appropriate…"
"It's really a bit… outrageous…"
"With all due respect, this decision seems a little… frivolous…"
"A Junior Instructor? That's really not—"
The core elders all started talking at once.
Old Mister Xun took another sip of tea, sighed, and said:
"Alright, alright, I'm not unreasonable. Since you're all so opposed, let's take a step back."
"No Junior Instructor. We'll just bump his seniority slightly. Give him the title of Little Senior Brother, and leave it at that…"
The elders all froze. Their hearts collectively skipped a beat.
Uh-oh. We walked into a trap.
Old Mister Xun had just pulled a classic retreat-to-advance tactic. His real goal had probably never been "Junior Instructor" at all.
One elder, still determined to resist, braced himself and tried to object again.
"I'm afraid this still—"
But Old Mister Xun's face darkened, voice suddenly sharp with displeasure:
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I've already backed down. No 'Junior Instructor,' fine. Just a harmless title—'Little Senior Brother.' It doesn't come with any real authority, just a bit of courtesy. And you still have opinions?"
"You think I'm old and my word carries no weight now?!"
The elders broke into cold sweat. Their hearts felt like collapsing dumplings. In the end, they could only fawn and placate him:
"Of course not, sir. A mere honorary title… nothing more."
Having been backed into a corner, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and say:
"...Fine! He can have it!"
Only then did Old Mister Xun smile with satisfaction. He nodded and waved them off:
"Alright, alright, enough fuss. What's the big deal? No need for all this drama."
"It's settled then!"
The core elders could only force out a bitter smile and silently accept it.
At the next formation class, Old Mister Xun summoned Mo Hua to the platform and said to the disciples below:
"Out there, you can handle things however you want—I won't interfere."
"But starting today, in this formation lecture hall…"
Old Mister Xun pointed at Mo Hua and declared in his old, raspy but resolute voice:
"Every one of you disciples—will address him as…"
"Little Senior Brother!"
(End of Chapter)