Chapter 1188: Heaven, Earth, and Man

Chapter 1187: Heaven, Earth, and Man

This Bi Jie, along with the Bifang Tribe’s barbarian soldiers under his command, clung to them like a leech, refusing to let go, fighting relentlessly.

If this dragged on, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s hard-won forces would eventually be completely worn down.

More importantly, it was far too much of a waste of time.

Time was precious—Mo Hua still had many things to do.

After thinking for a moment, he sought out the barbarian general Chi-Feng to understand the situation of the battle.

Normally, matters of “military operations” were not things Chi-Feng would ever discuss with others.

He was a Vermilion Sparrow Tribe general, a veteran of a hundred battles, with cultivation at the mid-Golden Core stage.

Such cultivation in the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe was enough to serve as a true elder, wielding real power—just one rank below the Great Chieftain and Great Elder.

On the battlefield, he held absolute “authority.” There was no way he would listen to the idle chatter of a mere Foundation Establishment “outsider.”

But Mo Hua was different.

Mo Hua was a Shaman.

After spending this time together, personally witnessing Mo Hua’s deeds—so close to “miracles”—Chi-Feng had gradually accepted this otherwise difficult-to-swallow fact.

Since Mo Hua asked, he naturally had to answer.

Even if Lord Shaman lived behind the scenes, accustomed to ease and comfort, and clearly had no experience leading troops in battle.

Chi-Feng thought for a moment, then said slowly:

“This Shugu secret tribe is located in a valley, originally easy to defend and hard to attack.”

“But the problem is, the Bifang Tribe has already attacked it once. They know the terrain of the valley inside and out.”

“Now that we Vermilion Sparrow Tribe guard this valley, what was once ‘easy to defend and hard to attack’ has turned into a ‘fish in a barrel’ situation.”

“The Bifang Tribe lurks in the dark, suddenly baring their fangs to strike at us.

“And their ‘fangs’ are coated in Bloodfang Poison. Over time, we will naturally bleed to death.”

Chi-Feng glanced at Mo Hua, then admitted:

“If it weren’t for you, Lord Shaman, who obtained the Divine-Lord’s favor, and used the profound sacred patterns to save my Vermilion Sparrow tribesmen, the situation would be even worse.”

Mo Hua nodded slightly, then asked:

“The Bifang Tribe’s ambushes—can’t they be blocked?”

Chi-Feng replied:

“Face-to-face battles, we do not fear. But the Bifang Tribe is treacherous and cunning, using rare, vicious poison. And what’s worse, the timing and location of their ambushes are impossible to predict.”

Mo Hua roughly understood.

Leaving the Bloodfang Poison aside—the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation could just about counteract its corrosion of vitality.

But the Bifang Tribe’s ambushes were not so easily dealt with.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe had too few people to mount proper defenses.

Now, with manpower tied up preparing barbarian armor and other supplies, they could only passively “take the hits.”

When the Bifang Tribe would strike, and from where, was utterly unpredictable.

Anytime, anywhere—it could happen.

To guard against ambushes, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe had to remain constantly on alert, consuming immense energy and focus.

Defending while harassed by the enemy.

This kind of perpetual passive “defense” was extremely draining, and even the slightest mistake could result in heavy casualties.

Mo Hua mused: “In other words, if one could know in advance when and where the Bifang Tribe would ambush, then victory would be assured, right?”

General Chi-Feng only felt that this Lord Shaman was speaking nonsense.

Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never lose a hundred battles.

If you already knew when and where the enemy would strike, how could victory not be guaranteed?

After all, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and Bifang Tribe weren’t so far apart in terms of direct fighting strength.

Such an “informational” advantage would practically be decisive.

Mo Hua asked:

“In normal military campaigns, if you wanted to obtain such intelligence, how would it usually be done?”

Chi-Feng answered: “There are many methods. One could plant spies on the other side, having them send word.

“One could send scouts to the frontlines to probe their movements.

“One could station sentries everywhere to guard against attacks from the Bifang Tribe—But the Bifang Tribe has long been seasoned by years of war, and Bi Jie is gifted and crafty. These methods are too idealistic, they won’t work well.”

First, planting spies was impossible.

Scouts would certainly be discovered by Bi Jie and then killed.

Sentries would hardly be able to detect the Bifang Tribe’s night-raiding soldiers.

Thus the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe continued to suffer under Bifang raids, bitter and exhausted.

Mo Hua nodded, saying,

“I understand. Let me think.”

Chi-Feng felt uneasy, not knowing what exactly this Lord Shaman was going to “think.”

But before he could ask, Mo Hua had already turned and left, returning to his stone chamber.

Chi-Feng stared at Mo Hua’s back, his brows furrowed tightly.

…

Inside the stone chamber.

Mo Hua instructed others not to disturb him, then brought out a brazier, demon bones, and phosphorus fire. Following the Great Wilderness demon-bone divination method, he began to divine.

This was, at present, the simplest and quickest method Mo Hua could think of to “predict” the Bifang Tribe’s movements.

He cast the divination.

For now, planting spies was impossible.

Sentries held little meaning.

He could act as a scout himself, using Concealment Arts to sneak into the Bifang Tribe camp and eavesdrop.

But he was now Lord Shaman.

What Shaman would personally sneak into the enemy camp as a “scout”?

Besides, Bi Jie was mid-Golden Core. If Bi Jie locked onto him, Mo Hua himself would be in danger.

As for setting up formations to deal with them—that cost too much and could easily cause accidental killings.

After thinking it over, only by fully embracing the role of a “diviner” and relying on karmic divination could he proceed.

Because of past painful lessons, Mo Hua now used divination with much greater caution.

He dared not divine about his Martial Uncle, nor about great karmic secrets, nor the fate of the Great Wilderness, nor any lofty figures—lest he violate certain “taboos” and provoke disaster.

But a war with the Bifang Tribe? That should be fine.

It was just a small-scale tribal battle or two.

Though not simple, compared to the true “great terrors” within karmic secrets, it was nothing.

At least, it shouldn’t possibly cause him to carry some “black cauldron” curse like Fate-Bane again.

Mo Hua’s heart steadied somewhat.

Once all was prepared—the phosphorus fire lit, the demon bones burned, the bones began to crack.

As usual, Mo Hua erased all traces of the divination, then took up the split bones to read the hexagram.

But after staring for some time, his brows furrowed slightly.

“Failed?”

The hexagram revealed nothing at all. He had seen nothing.

How could that be?

Mo Hua wasn’t arrogant, but he did have the most basic confidence in his divination.

Even when he “courted death” by divining great karmic secrets, he had always been able to glimpse at least some clues.

(TN: Mo Hua admitting that he was Courting death😂)

Not like now, where nothing at all appeared.

Was it because the karmic web of war was different from other matters?

Requiring consideration of Heaven, Earth, and Man—complex internal causes, involving the life and death of many, too many variables—so it could not be calculated so simply?

Or was it that within the Bifang Tribe, there was also a master of Heavenly Secrets, who had veiled their own karma to prevent others from prying into it?

Mo Hua frowned, thinking for a moment, and decided the second possibility was unlikely, leaning toward the first possibility.

Heavenly Secret experts weren’t like cabbages—you couldn’t just pluck one from the roadside whenever you needed.

Moreover, someone capable of concealing themselves from his Demonic Bone Divination—how could such an “expert” possibly be working under Bi Jie?

At the very least, they’d have to be on the level of Bi Jie’s father, the Great Chieftain of the Bi Fang Tribe.

So, was it the first possibility then?

In warfare, victory depended on Heaven, Earth, and Man—Heavenly timing, earthly terrain, and human harmony. Such matters touched upon the Three Talents, making the calculation overly complex and nearly impossible to divine.

Mo Hua furrowed his brow more tightly. This was troublesome.

The concept of Heaven, Earth, and Man also existed in array formations.

But the orthodox Three Talents Formations were inheritances monopolized by the Dao Court. He had no qualifications to study them, so he knew next to nothing about the underlying principles.

If divining the outcome of war truly required comprehension of the Three Talents, then that threshold was far too high.

Mo Hua’s heart grew heavy, yet he wasn’t ready to give up.

He was an array master—he had studied countless intricate and difficult formations. He knew very well: the more profound the subject, the more obscure and difficult it became.

Obscurity meant depth.

And the harder something was, the more it was worth pursuing.

The harder the study, the more worthy of research.

Once one overcame difficulties, the greater the harvest, and the deeper the truths understood.

Difficulty itself was a form of tempering—a step on the path of self-strengthening.

“Heaven, Earth, Man…” Mo Hua calmed his mind and pondered:

“If I can’t calculate them together, then what about separately? Divide it into Heavenly Timing, Earthly Terrain, and Human Hearts—calculate each cause separately, then merge them and derive again?”

The overall causality was too vast, but broken into parts, perhaps it could be managed.

Having formed an idea, Mo Hua immediately set to work.

He derived separately: the Heavenly timing of the Shugu Tribe’s valley, the Earthly terrain, and the Human hearts of the Bi Fang Tribe.

But even split apart, he soon realized: divination involving Heaven and Earth still demanded an immense amount of divine sense.

The heavens held sun, moon, and stars, clouds, mist, snow, wind, rain, and thunder. Day alternated with night, seasons shifted, and transformations never ceased.

The earth held mountains and rivers, grasses and stones, tigers, leopards, fish, and insects. Endless species thrived and perished in cycles, with boundless natural phenomena.

As for human hearts, there were countless variations—rich and poor, greedy, angry, deluded, joyful, sorrowful, wrathful. Emotions rose and fell in a thousand forms.

Mo Hua had already narrowed his scope as much as possible—

Only this single valley.

Only the next three days.

Only the murderous intent of the Bi Fang Tribe.

Even so, the mingling of the three overwhelmed him, leaving his head aching and his mind nearly exhausted.

He did manage to calculate certain things.

For Heavenly timing: whether the coming days would bring wind or rain.

For Earthly terrain: the shape of mountains and rivers, how plants and beasts would thrive.

For Human hearts: the thoughts within many Bi Fang tribesmen—the flow of malice in their hearts, the venting of killing intent.

But when combined, none of this formed a clear causality.

Mo Hua even suspected all of it was false.

Not true causality, but merely the products of his imagination—subjective guesses, rather than the objective operation of fate.

It was just what he “thought it should be.”

Looking at the sheets before him, covered with dense diagrams of shifting Heavenly timings, terrains, and human moods, Mo Hua felt helpless and somewhat lost.

Two full days had been consumed.

In those two days, he had indeed glimpsed a trace of the profundity and vastness of the Three Talents.

But the final result was completely useless.

The concept of Heaven, Earth, and Man was simply not something he could suddenly comprehend and apply.

Without years, decades, or even centuries of study and insight, there was no way he alone could unravel the structure of the Three Talents.

Practical application was even further out of reach.

Mo Hua frowned.

The Dao Court’s monopolized inheritance was truly unimaginably deep.

He wasn’t even sure if what he had derived—his “assumptions”—was genuinely the Dao of the Three Talents at all.

After all, no one had ever taught him. He could only grope forward, relying on his experience and intuition.

But time waited for no one.

His two days of “empty effort” brought no results—

And in those same two days, the Bi Fang Tribe launched another raid, killing two Vermilion Sparrow warriors and injuring seventeen more.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe seethed with fury, but the situation was already deadlocked.

The valley of the Shugu Tribe was remote and sealed off, far from the mountain realm’s main body.

In the short term, no reinforcements could arrive—both sides would have to fight it out here.

Now the Bi Fang Tribe encircled and pressed in, while the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe was slowly being consumed.

The only option was to abandon the Shugu Tribe’s stockpile, lighten their load, and retreat swiftly.

The Bi Fang Tribe, focused on seizing the stockpile, would not continue pursuit.

As long as they survived, it was enough. The barbarian armor, though precious, had to be discarded.

What mattered most was preserving their fighting force and safeguarding Young Master Dan-Zhu.

This proposal was put forth by Elder Bachuan and approved by the barbarian general Chi-Feng.

As a general, Chi-Feng naturally hated to abandon such a trove of armor and forging materials. But the safety of Young Master Dan-Zhu outweighed everything.

Dan-Zhu himself cared most for his warriors’ lives—he would not sacrifice a hundred men of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe for armor.

In contrast, the one least willing to give up the Shugu Tribe’s armor was Mo Hua.

But he had no choice. He would just have to act more ruthlessly.

His cultivation was broad, and he was versed in many arts. But some methods carried great costs—methods he preferred not to use lightly.

Now, the simplest path was to unleash Sword Manifestation of Divine Sense.

But Bi Jie was a mid-stage Golden Core. His divine sense should be stronger than Mo Hua’s.

Against someone stronger in divine sense, the results were uncertain—and Mo Hua would surely suffer backlash.

He remembered it well.

Back when they besieged the Water Yama at the Dragon King Temple in Qianxue Province, he had used the Divine Dread Sword against Xiao Zhenhai, the “Smiling Tiger,” a Golden Core cultivator.

Xiao Zhenhai had indeed been suppressed by his Divine Dread Sword.

But Mo Hua’s own eyes had bled, leaving him temporarily blinded.

That was just the Divine Dread Sword. If he were to use the God-Slaying Sword against a Golden Core with stronger divine sense, the backlash would be far worse.

His divine sense exited through his eyes, using them as the medium. Any backlash would directly strike his vision.

His sea of consciousness might remain intact—but his eyes would almost certainly be ruined.

Without sufficient divine sense, even if he succeeded in slaying Bi Jie, the karmic consequences of disturbing his fate would linger.

The alternative was formations.

But killing arrays were unusable for now.

Defensive arrays could only block, not counterattack—their effect would be limited.

That left the Primordial Magnetic Array.

He could lay down small arrays in the forests, using them as early-warning systems to avoid ambushes from the Bi Fang Tribe, and perhaps seize opportunities to counterattack.

He had used this method before.

But this time, he was reluctant. The valley outside the Shugu Tribe was too complex and vast.

To lay small arrays on every path would consume enormous amounts of spirit ink.

And these Primordial Magnetic Arrays required special spirit ink.

Here in the Great Wilderness, replenishing ink was nearly impossible. He couldn’t bear to waste so much at once.

Moreover, he didn’t even have enough proper array media. He could only inscribe them directly into the ground.

Meaning they would all be one-time use.

Once triggered, they were useless.

That pained him even more.

Still, if divination was impossible, he had to choose—either Sword Manifestation of Divine Sense or small Primordial Magnetic Arrays.

One consumed his divine sense and risked backlash.

The other consumed vast amounts of spirit ink.

Between the two, the safer option was clearly the arrays.

Mo Hua sighed.

Too many methods only made decisions harder.

Resolving himself, he went to Chi-Feng and requested a map of the surrounding terrain.

Chi-Feng was puzzled. “Lord Wu, you mean—?”

Mo Hua said, “I want to try something. To see if we can repel the Bi Fang Tribe and keep this armor.”

Chi-Feng immediately grew solemn.

As a general, no one wished more than him to preserve the armor.

With Mo Hua saying this, Chi-Feng dared not neglect him. He promptly handed over the map he held.

Mo Hua glanced at it and shook his head.

The map was far too crude.

Good enough for marching to war, but far too rough for arranging formations.

He had no choice but to make his own.

Leaving the stone hall, Mo Hua personally surveyed the valley outside the Shugu Tribe, charting the terrain and planning array placement. Chi-Feng, worried for his safety, followed closely.

At the same time, he also wanted to see just what method this Lord Shaman could possibly use to fend off the Bi Fang Tribe.

Mo Hua entered the mountain forest, releasing his divine sense as he walked, observing the terrain and contemplating the structure of the Small Primordial Magnetic Formation.

Chi-Feng followed behind him, faintly sensing a hidden and profound consciousness, his heart secretly shocked:

“This Lord Wu’s divine sense… is actually this powerful?”

Until now, he had never even noticed it.

“Could this be the sign of the Divine-Lord’s blessing?” Chi-Feng’s gaze narrowed as he cast a deep look at Mo Hua.

Mo Hua, however, paid no mind to Chi-Feng’s thoughts.

Previously, his divine sense had always been restrained. But now, in order to examine the terrain and construct the formation, he had no choice but to fully unleash it.

Chi-Feng, being at mid-Golden Core, was no outsider—and would be of use in the future.

Therefore, Mo Hua intended to strengthen the impression in Chi-Feng’s mind of his extraordinary status as a Shaman.

He needed Chi-Feng to know just how “powerful” he was in the path of divine sense.

Only then would he hold authority in front of him.

Mo Hua glanced sharply at Chi-Feng, sensing his inner thoughts, then gave a slight nod before immersing himself fully into studying the arrangement of the Small Primordial Magnetic Formation.

To lay down this formation, he had to understand the mountain terrain, building within his mind an entire system of the mountain range’s topography.

Only then could the Small Primordial Magnetic Formations resonate with one another, linking into a single whole.

This was Mo Hua’s true intention.

It was for the sake of formation construction that he personally walked this path.

Yet as Mo Hua himself walked amidst the mountains—with heaven above his head and earth beneath his feet—a subtle sensation suddenly arose in his heart.

And that sensation grew deeper and deeper.

Mo Hua couldn’t help but raise his head to look at the sky, then lower his gaze to the earth.

The sky was crimson, the mountains desolate, the terrain chaotic. Their group trekked through the wilderness—causality rippling in the air.

The more he looked, the more a sudden jolt struck Mo Hua’s heart.

He realized at once that his comprehension of “Heaven, Earth, and Man” was indeed mistaken.

Even his understanding of cause and effect contained a fundamental error.

(End of this Chapter)