Fish Cultivators are also Loose Cultivators, and no matter where they go, the life of Loose Cultivators is always the same.
It’s all about struggling hard just to survive.
Beyond surviving, there’s hardly any energy left to consider other things.
Eking out a living is hard enough, let alone seeking immortality.
Mo Hua felt a slight ache in his heart.
And in this little fishing village, besides the ordinary Fish Cultivators, there were no other cultivators’ traces, including Crossing River Dragon, who changed skins to disguise as a rugged man.
“Where has Crossing River Dragon gone?”
Mo Hua felt puzzled.
More time passed, still no trace was found, but it was already noon, with smoke rising again in the village.
Generally, the lower class Loose Cultivators who practice Body Cultivation, trained their bodies since childhood, and did physical labor as they grew, needed a more substantial meal at noon to have the energy to make a living.
So lunch was more formal than breakfast.
Although not well-off, the smells wafting from each household were quite tempting.
Mo Hua touched his stomach, feeling a bit hungry.
His eyes suddenly lit up when he spotted an acquaintance—it was the elder Fish Cultivator he had helped with the Formation, the one who had invited him over for a visit.
This Fish Cultivator was brewing fish soup at home, his family of seven or eight lively gathered around.
In the world, eating is of paramount importance.
This was also a good opportunity to ask some questions.
Mo Hua jumped down from the tree, revealed his figure when no one was around, and walked openly into the small fishing village.
Crossing River Dragon had never seen him.
The day he was dragged into the small woodland for a beating, Mo Hua did not show his face, and even later when he intercepted halfway, although he showed up, his face was covered.
Thus, Crossing River Dragon would not recognize him.
Walking openly into the small fishing village, trying to get free meals and drinks, it was unlikely that Crossing River Dragon would suspect that this little cultivator was tracking him.
Mo Hua then walked into the small fishing village with ease and a gentle pace.
He wasn’t wearing the Taoist Robe of the Taixu Gate, only simple casual clothes, fair and handsome, his brows and eyes amiable, walking into the village as casually as if returning to his own home.
The Fish Cultivators along the road saw him being so open and did not suspect anything.