Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 258: Testing the Grand Formation

Wang Hao swept his gaze over the renovations. The original cave mouth had been expanded into a foyer that forked into two distinct tunnels.

The left passage led to a massive warehouse, stretching over a thousand feet in length and a hundred in width. The finish here was crude; the walls were rough-hewn and pitted with gouge marks, evidence that Wang Longyou hadn’t wasted Spiritual Energy on aesthetics. It was a pragmatic space—wine jars didn’t care about smooth walls, after all; they just needed sturdy racks.

The right passage, however, opened into a series of refined stone chambers. Here, the walls were polished smooth, and the rooms were furnished with stone chairs and tables. These would serve as the laboratories for the spirit wine brewers and living quarters for the garrison.

“Great-Uncle, your layout is flawless,” Wang Hao noted. “But surely this manual labor is beneath you? We have Qi Refining disciples for the heavy lifting.”

Wang Longyou waved a hand dismissively. “You’re missing the point. Yanzong says the Purple Crystal Grapes will yield a massive harvest this year. If we aren’t ready to process it immediately, we lose profit. Better to be over-prepared.” He paused, eyeing Wang Hao expectantly. “But you didn’t come here to discuss architecture. Is the Grand Formation ready?”

Wang Hao nodded. “The rune carving is complete. All that remains is for us Foundation Establishment cultivators to open the channels and link the array nodes to the spirit vein. By the way, where is Wencai?”

Wang Longyou’s face lit up. “Ah, excellent! Once the barrier is up, we can bring in more clansmen and Rogue Cultivators to accelerate the construction.” He pulled a transmission talisman from his sleeve. “Wencai is out clearing the perimeter. I’ll recall him immediately.”

Wang Wencai had become a terror to the local wildlife. Since Chicken Cage Ridge was the only Second Rank peak in the immediate vicinity—and it was now occupied—the chances of encountering powerful Second Rank Demon Beasts were low.

Initially, Wencai had played it safe, huddled near the peak. But after gauging the strength of the local fauna, he had grown bold. Armed with his puppet beasts, he had gone on the offensive.

Against a Foundation Establishment cultivator backed by war puppets, the local First Rank beasts didn’t stand a chance. In just over a month, Wencai had depopulated the forest within a 500-mile radius. His Storage Bag was bulging with materials, and he had loudly proclaimed that hunting was far more profitable than sweating over a crafting bench. He had developed a taste for blood.

Recently, however, his ego had taken a bruise. He had picked a fight with a Low Grade Second Rank Fire Fox and come off second best. The fox was cunning, and Wencai had failed to secure the kill. According to Longyou, Wencai had been sulking for days and was likely out there now, trying to settle the score.

Wang Hao wasn’t worried. Fire Foxes were intelligent but not particularly lethal combatants. Wencai might be an alcoholic, but he wasn’t an idiot; he wouldn’t fall for a simple beast’s trap.

Shortly after the talisman flared, a streak of light cut through the sky. Wang Wencai descended via Sword Riding, his face a mask of dejection.

Clearly, the rematch hadn’t happened.

“Don’t worry,” Wang Hao consoled him. “Once the Grand Formation is active, I’ll help you track down that fox.”

“No!” Wencai snapped, his pride stinging. “Absolutely not, Fifth Brother. I will catch it with my own hands.”

Wang Hao shrugged. “Then you’re going to be disappointed. Once the array is up, our mission here is done. We’re both heading back to Wang Family Ridge. The clan isn’t going to let a valuable puppet master play ranger in the woods indefinitely.”

Wencai hesitated, wrestling with the reality of his station. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. We go back. But one day, I’ll come back and skin that fox.”

“If you insist,” Wang Hao chuckled. “Now, come on. Let’s get this array online.”

The eight Formation Eyes were positioned at the eight cardinal directions, each at varying distances from the central spirit vein. This meant the difficulty of channeling the ley lines varied for each node.

Fortunately, the connecting channels didn’t need to be large—just wide enough to slot in the Yin Purple Pine conduits. For a cultivator at the sixth layer of Foundation Establishment like Wang Hao, drilling one channel took about a day. Wencai, though slower, could manage one every two days.

Once the physical channels were dug, they inserted the rune-inscribed pine strips to act as superconductors for the Spiritual Qi.

When the final connection was made, the group gathered at the core control pedestal.

Wang Longyou exchanged a nod with the younger generation. He extended a finger, tapping the central disk.

Hum.

The array shuddered to life. Spiritual Qi surged up from the vein below, racing through the pine conduits and flooding into the Formation Eyes. The complex Second Rank runes on the pedestals flared, converting the raw energy into a dense, mystical fog.

Wisps of white mist began to curl around the base of the mountain, rapidly expanding outward.

Under normal circumstances, the full “Formation Curtain”—the hard-light barrier—would remain dormant. Keeping it active drained too much energy from the spirit vein, which would stunt the growth of the medicinal herbs and slow the cultivation of the residents.

Instead, the standard operating mode was this mist: a passive illusion barrier. It obscured the mountain from prying eyes and disoriented any beast or cultivator foolish enough to wander in. The hard shell would only be deployed under direct attack.

An hour later, Chicken Cage Ridge had vanished, swallowed by a sea of white fog that perfectly aligned with the vine wall they had erected.

“Ye Jingtao claimed this array was extraordinary,” Wang Hao said, looking at the swirling vapor. “Why don’t you give it a test run, Great-Uncle?”

“Very well.” Wang Longyou manipulated the control disk with his left hand.

Deep within the mist, red lights flickered. Suddenly, a barrage of fireballs coalesced from the vapor, bombarding a designated clearing with a thunderous roar.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The group inspected the craters. The firepower was roughly equivalent to a High Grade First Rank technique. It wasn’t enough to threaten a Foundation Establishment cultivator instantly, but the sheer volume was impressive. A horde of low-level enemies would be incinerated in seconds.

“Static targets don’t tell the full story,” Wang Hao said, shaking his head. “I’ll go out and act as a live target. Great-Uncle, step aside. Let Wencai control the array. In the future, it will be the early Foundation Establishment cultivators garrisoning this place, so we need to know what they can do with it.”

“Agreed,” Longyou nodded. “Be careful.”

Wang Hao kicked off the ground, flying out of the mist and hovering in the clear sky beyond.

Looking back, the giant bank of unnatural white fog was conspicuous against the green landscape. Any passing cultivator would immediately know a clan had claimed this territory. But given the Wang family’s rising status, visibility was a deterrent, not a liability.

Wang Hao circled around, deliberately avoiding the safe entrance he had designed. He was an intruder now.

He surged forward on his flying sword, plunging into the mist.

Instantly, the Eight Directions Enemy Detection Formation screamed a silent warning to the controller. The mist recoiled, and a fireball materialized from the void, hurtling toward his face.

It was a warning shot, weak and easily dodged.

“Come on, Wencai,” Wang Hao muttered. “Don’t be shy.”

Inside the control room, Wang Wencai gritted his teeth and ramped up the input.

The mist boiled. Fireballs, Fire Rain, wooden spikes, and lashing vines erupted from all sides. Initially, Wencai held back, fearful of injuring his cousin. But Wang Hao wove through the barrage with contemptuous ease, the techniques failing to even singe his robes.

Wencai’s competitive streak flared. He slammed his palm onto the array disk, pushing the formation to its limit.

The intensity tripled.

Fire dragons roared, and wooden spears filled the air like locusts. Wang Hao found his dodging space shrinking rapidly. He deployed several High Grade Spirit Weapons, creating a rotating shield barrier that deflected the onslaught with metallic clangs.

Finally, Wencai unleashed the array’s signature combo.

Hundreds of thick vines surged from the mist below, weaving a suffocating net to cut off Wang Hao’s lateral movement. Simultaneously, the sky turned crimson as a torrential rain of magical fire descended, igniting the vines and turning the entire sector into a blast furnace.

Wang Hao frowned. The heat was intense, and the vines were surprisingly resilient. He couldn’t break through the center without expending significant energy.

He pulled up, rocketing vertically toward the sky.

The vines snapped at his heels, but they couldn’t pursue him indefinitely. He burst through the top of the mist layer, hovering safely above the kill zone.

As a defensive measure, the array was excellent against ground-based Demon Beasts and low-level cultivators. It could trap and burn them alive. But against a flying Foundation Establishment expert, it lacked a hard ceiling to prevent escape. It couldn’t keep him out, but it also couldn’t keep him in.

Once the mist settled, Wang Hao descended and re-entered through the designated safe passage.