Chapter 1184: Strange

Chapter 1183: Strange

Bi Jie saw through it—this Dan-Zhu, outwardly pretending to be benevolent, was in truth a “black-hearted” schemer. From the start, he had borrowed the excuse of rescuing people to seize the Shugu Tribe’s hidden treasury from their Bifang Tribe.

Otherwise, would a pampered young master like him risk the danger of war just to save a few hundred low-ranked clansmen of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe? Now that the people were saved, he suddenly started to put on an act and hesitate.

Damn it, truly a hypocrite.

Bi Jie’s expression darkened like water. “Dan-Zhu, are you going back on your word?”

Dan-Zhu, who had always been honest, kind, and trustworthy since childhood, was momentarily silent, unable to answer Bi Jie’s accusation.

Mo Hua sighed inwardly.

Thin-skinned youths were like this—they didn’t even know how to tell a lie properly.

Mo Hua put on a solemn expression and said slowly:

“Young Master Dan-Zhu is benevolent and cherishes life. He cannot bear to see you perish here. He is saving you.”

Bi Jie’s gaze turned icy, locking onto Mo Hua. “What do you mean?”

Mo Hua’s face grew grave:

“This stone hall has been tainted by a great evil, a place of immense horror. Though the Divine-Lord bestowed his grace, and I borrowed the Divine-Lord’s mighty power to eradicate that vicious fiend, the fiend’s curse still lingers within.

“If you rashly enter, once evil thoughts invade your mind, at best you’ll lose your sanity; at worst… you’ll become like Elder Cang, reduced to a puppet of evil intent, a man-eating beast, forever fallen onto the path of beasts, beyond redemption.”

Mo Hua’s face radiated sorrowful compassion.

Bi Jie, of course, wasn’t fooled. Pointing at the barbarian slaves behind Mo Hua, he demanded:

“Then let me ask you—why aren’t your slaves affected? Why haven’t they become beasts?”

Mo Hua calmly replied, “Because they followed my guidance, and so the Divine-Lord protected them.”

Whatever he said was the truth—if he wished it, it was divine will; if he didn’t, it was divine warning.

Bi Jie’s heart seethed with hatred, secretly cursing Mo Hua as shameless, his eyes flashing with viciousness.

The Shugu Tribe’s treasury—he must obtain it. His coming ambitions and plans depended on it.

He activated his magic treasure. The Bifang Fiend-Blade shimmered with malevolent light, accompanied by the shrieks of fierce birds, killing intent surging.

Mo Hua’s eyes sharpened as he rebuked:

“Does your Bifang Tribe dare defy the Divine-Lord’s will?”

Bi Jie sneered in his heart.

What Divine-Lord’s will? You say it, so it’s true? What the hell are you?

“Storm the hall! Kill anyone who blocks the way!”

He gave the order, but when he turned back, he saw his Bifang barbarian soldiers hesitating, their faces fearful, their feet unmoving.

They seemed afraid—afraid of the “Lord Shaman.” And also afraid of the curse the Lord Shaman had spoken of.

Thus, even with Bi Jie’s command, they didn’t dare act.

Some even whispered among themselves:

“If we oppose this Lord Shaman, won’t we be struck by divine punishment?”

“This is a Lord Shaman…”

“Who among us dares offend him?”

“Lord Shaman’s powers are vast.”

“Lord Shaman…”

Every “Lord Shaman” they uttered only fueled Bi Jie’s fury.

He had seen real shamans before, so he knew Mo Hua could never be one.

But who would have thought—this damn Foundation Establishment pretty-boy, just by walking around the stone hall, saving a few people, and spouting some lofty words, could actually fool everyone and gain such prestige. Even Bifang’s own soldiers didn’t dare oppose him, some even showing signs of “defection.”

Truly, a born charlatan.

With such a charlatan beside Dan-Zhu, sowing confusion and winning hearts, he would one day become a great danger.

He must die…

Killing intent surged in Bi Jie’s chest.

But with his clansmen’s hearts shaken, Bi Jie was powerless for now.

At this moment, an elder of the Bifang Tribe, with gray-white eyes, spoke softly:

“Young Master, the situation is unfavorable. We should reconsider.”

Bi Jie glanced at Dan-Zhu, then at Mo Hua. He also sensed the Vermilion Sparrow barbarian general Chi Feng’s readiness for battle. Gritting his teeth, he slowly nodded.

“Fine…”

“We’ll withdraw for now.” Bi Jie’s voice was cold. He said no more, only glared venomously, his face grim, then led the Bifang Tribe away from the Shugu Treasury valley.

Once Bi Jie left, Dan-Zhu finally let out a small sigh of relief.

Although a peerless genius, in age, cultivation, and schemes, he was still a step behind Bi Jie. The pressure Bi Jie brought him was immense.

Not only Dan-Zhu—even Ba Shan and Ba Chuan, the two guardian elders, felt as if a great weight had been lifted.

But General Chi Feng’s face grew solemn.

If Bi Jie had attacked now, fighting the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe head-on, it might have actually been better for them.

But he didn’t—he endured and withdrew.

That meant Bi Jie wasn’t as arrogant and conceited as he seemed on the surface. Those skilled in patience and restraint were the hardest to deal with.

Once Bi Jie left, he would never let this rest.

This storm was far from over.

Afterward, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe began handling the aftermath.

Dan-Zhu personally comforted the clansmen who had suffered so much pain and despair, letting them rest for a while.

The Vermilion Sparrow soldiers stationed themselves outside the Shugu valley.

Mo Hua led Dan-Zhu and the others into the stone hall, arriving at the Shugu Tribe’s treasury.

Before them were chambers filled with piles of barbarian armor, bones, leather, and other military materials stacked like small mountains.

Dan-Zhu, Chi Feng, and the others were all deeply shaken.

At last, they understood why Bi Jie had insisted on storming this stone hall and annexing the Shugu secret treasury.

It turned out the Shugu Tribe’s stores contained such a crucial cache of barbarian armor.

Even the steady Chi Feng couldn’t help but feel his blood boil.

To the barbarian tribes, armor was of immense importance.

Though their numbers were vast, not all could truly be considered qualified barbarian soldiers. Setting aside children, the elderly, the sick, crippled, low-level Qi Refining cultivators, and weak barbarian cultivators, the number of true fighters was far smaller.

Real barbarian soldiers were few; true elites, even fewer.

To forge elite warriors, armor was essential.

In mass battlefield clashes, unlike duels, once blood and flesh mingled in close combat, differences in cultivation techniques and arts mattered less.

Especially in the frenzy of slaughter, sometimes even the most exquisite spells couldn’t match the practicality of a good piece of armor.

With good armor, one could take a few more strikes, withstand more spells, and perhaps live.

With poor armor, one or two blows could mean death.

That difference in a few blows was the difference between life and death.

Thus: strong armor, strong soldiers. Strong barbarian armor, strong barbarian army.

This had become an unwritten law.

The Shugu treasury here could probably produce as many as five hundred sets of Grade-Two elite barbarian armor.

If five hundred peak Foundation Establishment barbarian soldiers wore these and trained into an elite force, they could roam a Grade-Three territory like dragons, expanding and conquering.

So long as they avoided clashing head-on with a great tribe’s main force, they could sweep freely.

As a general who had fought many campaigns for the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, Chi Feng understood better than anyone the importance of these supplies.

He had truly fought battles, and so knew well—“five hundred peak Grade-Two barbarian elites” was a terrifying number.

Not comparable at all to the rabble of ordinary barbarian soldiers.

Chi Feng glanced at the youthful Dan-Zhu and sighed inwardly:

“Young Master Dan-Zhu truly is favored by heaven, blessed with boundless fortune.”

On his very first expedition, he had obtained such a monumental war prize—a foundation for power and prestige.

Then Chi Feng couldn’t help but glance at Mo Hua again, frowning in thought:

“If this youth, calling himself ‘Mister Wu,’ truly is a Lord Shaman blessed by the gods… does this not mean Young Master Dan-Zhu is really the chosen son of destiny, the hope of our Vermilion Sparrow Tribe?”

“Could Mister Wu’s arrival truly be divine will?”

Chi Feng’s heart trembled at the thought.

But Ba Shan and Ba Chuan didn’t think so deeply. They were simply delighted for Dan-Zhu.

If these supplies were taken back to the main tribe, it would be a great merit. The Great Chieftain would surely reward them generously.

Dan-Zhu’s status would naturally rise. Perhaps he might truly become Great Chieftain one day.

They, the two guardian elders, would share in that merit as well.

Ba Shan said, “Young Master, let’s transport all these out—”

But Mo Hua interrupted: “They can’t be transported out.”

Ba Shan was startled.

Dan-Zhu also sighed, nodding.

He knew as well—the Bifang Tribe would never let this go.

These supplies were what Bifang coveted.

Now that Vermilion Sparrow had seized them, if they tried to move them, Bifang would surely ambush and intercept.

At that time, Vermilion Sparrow in the open, Bifang in the shadows—even with greater strength, they would suffer heavy losses.

True, each soldier’s storage pouch could hold one or two suits of armor, no problem.

But here, it wasn’t just armor—there was an enormous stockpile of forging materials.

Many were from the bones of spirit beasts, massive and unwieldy, difficult to cut without special smelting.

These materials were even more valuable than finished armor.

Finished armor might not fit—but raw materials could forge more and better armor.

To move them required large storage chests, manpower to carry, carts to haul—very inconvenient, and easy prey for ambush and slaughter.

Ba Shan frowned. “Then what do we do now?”

Dan-Zhu said, “We first secure the Shugu treasury. We’ll thoroughly catalogue the armor, raw materials, and other supplies, pack them into chests, and then decide when the time is right.”

After speaking, Dan-Zhu turned to look at Mo Hua.

Mo Hua nodded lightly. “The young master speaks wisely.”

And so the matter was settled for now.

The Vermilion Sparrow soldiers divided their tasks: some guarded the valley, some catalogued the treasury, and others tended to the captives.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, took the opportunity to circle the stone hall once more, his brows furrowing in thought.

This stone hall could be considered “cleared,” everything appeared ordinary on the surface, yet Mo Hua still felt that in the details, something about this matter was deeply strange.

First, there was the issue of the “barbarian slaves.”

The barbarian god had already fallen, becoming half a heretical god. With its evil thoughts shrouding the stone hall, the tribesmen of the Shugu Tribe, influenced by this corruption, had developed the vile habit of “eating” people.

Yet the “barbarian slaves” they imprisoned remained completely normal, their minds untainted.

That was highly abnormal.

Why were the barbarian slaves unaffected by the evil influence?

Was it because they hadn’t eaten people?

Mo Hua frowned, shaking his head.

No, that wasn’t right…

The two Golden Core warriors of the Bifang Tribe and their twenty elite barbarian soldiers hadn’t eaten people either, yet once they entered the stone hall, they fell to corruption quickly.

“Then it must be that someone devised a method, used some kind of technique, to prevent the evil thoughts from affecting the barbarian slaves?”

“In this way, those barbarian slaves—kept as ‘rations’—would not be influenced by the evil, would not ‘deteriorate’?”

“What kind of method could this be…”

Mo Hua quickly thought of the iron prisons.

All these barbarian slaves had been confined within iron cages.

He walked to the cages, releasing his divine sense to meticulously search every corner. Suddenly, his expression changed.

“Elder Ba-Shan” Mo Hua called.

Not far away, Elder Ba-Shan, who was sorting through the barbarian armor and supplies, immediately hurried over at the sound.

Since Mo Hua had once “saved” his life, and especially after witnessing Mo Hua’s divine display before others, Elder Ba-Shan now treated him with utmost reverence. Where once he doubted that a Shaman could look like Mo Hua, now he firmly believed a Shaman should indeed look precisely like Mo Hua.

Mo Hua pointed to the cages and said, “Dismantle all these iron prisons. Dig up the foundations as well.”

Elder Ba-Shan did not question why, simply nodding. “Yes, Lord Shaman!”

The Shaman embodied the will of the gods—naturally, his actions had their reasons.

Ba-Shan was burly and immensely strong. Directly channeling his Golden Core power, he tore apart the cages holding the barbarian slaves with brute force.

Once dismantled, Mo Hua began to carefully examine the markings beneath the cages.

At just a glance, his pupils shrank.

“This is…”

Divine Dao Array patterns?!

In the stone hall where the Shugu Tribe worshiped their barbarian god, there were actually Divine Dao formations?

This meant that the Shugu Tribe was by no means as simple as it appeared.

Within this tribe existed—or at least once had existed—an expert standing upon the Divine Dao.

Had the barbarian god’s evolution and the rites of sacrifice been studied, even manipulated, by someone?

Mo Hua’s expression grew grave. He immediately said to Ba-Shan, “Break all of the cages. Tear up every foundation.”

Elder Ba-Shan did not know Mo Hua’s intent.

But seeing Lord Shaman so solemn, realizing this matter might involve the gods themselves, he did not hold back his strength and smashed every cage one by one, pulling up all the foundations.

Mo Hua inspected the Divine Dao formations, and the more he looked, the more troubling they seemed.

These patterns could block divine sense and conceal auras, and the traces were still rather fresh.

They were identical to the Divine Dao arrays Mo Hua had learned—those of Divine Mist, Divine Lock, Divine Barrier.

The problem was, Mo Hua had only learned these Divine Dao arrays in Qianxue Prefecture, from the foremost servant of a heretical god—Mr. Tu. Yet Mr. Tu… was already dead.

Dead within the Blood Sacrifice Grand Array, annihilated by heavenly tribulation, body and soul destroyed.

So then—who in the Great Wilderness was drawing Divine Dao formations?

Could it be…?

Mo Hua’s brows furrowed tightly, a chill creeping into his heart. But after a moment’s thought, he realized he might be overthinking.

Mr. Tu was originally from the Great Wilderness. Naturally, his Divine Dao formations also originated from here.

That there were others in the Great Wilderness capable of drawing such formations was only reasonable.

Not every suspicious thread should be pinned on a dead man’s head…

Was there, within the Shugu Tribe, still a Divine Dao “expert”?

For what purpose did he draw these Divine Dao formations?

What exactly is his scheme?

Mo Hua considered using the demon bone divination to calculate the cause and effect hidden in these Divine Dao arrays. Yet out of instinctive dread, he ultimately held back. The enemy’s situation was unclear, their strength unknown—it was unwise to recklessly probe into cause and effect.

Mo Hua was no longer that calf unafraid of tigers.

He now knew that cause and effect was truly perilous—especially when facing grand designs, formidable enemies, and certain unknown terrors.

Though he had understood this in principle before, deep down, he hadn’t cared much.

When it was time to “court death,” he would still take the risk once or twice.

Not until his Martial Uncle gave him a lesson on “Fate’s Doom” did Mo Hua firmly etch it into his heart, never daring to be reckless again.

He copied down these Divine Path array patterns, then set them aside for the time being.

Without clues, no amount of pondering would help.

Besides, Mo Hua had another, more important matter.

After some thought, he said to Ba-Shan:

“Elder Ba-Shan, I want to enter seclusion for now, to pray for Divine-Lord’s guidance. Find me a quiet place—under no circumstances may I be disturbed.”

When Ba-Shan Elder heard “Divine-Lord’s guidance,” his expression turned solemn. He immediately said:

“Mr. Wu, rest assured, I will see to it.”

Elder Ba-Shan found a secluded stone chamber in the hall, carefully cleaned it, and even laid down soft wolf pelts for Mo Hua to rest during seclusion.

Then he ordered strict guards all around.

Ba-Shan himself did nothing else, personally standing guard for Mo Hua.

These barbarian cultivators were rather simple-minded.

If they suspected you and treated you as an enemy, they would target you in every possible way.

But if they trusted and respected you, they would treat you wholeheartedly, with unfeigned sincerity.

Mo Hua felt some emotion at this.

After that, he sat cross-legged in the stone chamber, closed his eyes, and entered seclusion with calm focus.

About two hours later, estimating it to be around midnight, Mo Hua sank his divine sense into his sea of consciousness.

At the center of the sea of consciousness, the ancient and profound Dao Stele emerged.

On the stele, a bright scarlet tribulation rune pulsed.

Mo Hua expelled the half-silver, half-cyan willpower of the Shugu barbarian god he had swallowed earlier, and placed it on the tribulation lightning of the Dao Stele to scorch it.

A ferocious roar suddenly erupted—a skeletal divine face appeared as a phantom, bellowing madly—yet, amidst the flashing scarlet lightning, it was utterly erased.

The already weak will of the “corrupted” Shugu barbarian god completely dissipated.

Having “purged the poison,” Mo Hua then swallowed this willpower again and calmly refined it.

Threads of pure willpower merged into Mo Hua’s divine body, nourishing his divine sense.

The faintly silver-white divine essence was also absorbed bit by bit by his Dao-imbued soul.

Abundant divine sense, and divine essence as well—

This was a flavor he hadn’t savored for a long time, and hard-won at that.

Mo Hua felt at ease, carefully experiencing it.

Time passed little by little.

At last, all of the barbarian god’s willpower and divine essence were refined, and Mo Hua’s divine sense welcomed a considerable increase—from mid-twenty-second rune, all the way to the peak of twenty-second rune.

Mo Hua had nearly touched the threshold of the twenty-third rune of divine sense.

The twenty-third rune of divine sense was the strongest realm of divine sense a Golden Core early-stage cultivator could possess.

And Mo Hua, only at late Foundation Establishment, was just one step away.

He let out a long breath, his eyes shining faintly, feeling that he had taken yet another step closer to his long-cherished dream of Golden Core…

(End of this Chapter)