Chapter 1190: The Embryo of the Great Dao

Chapter 1189: The Embryo of the Great Dao

Mo Hua sat in deep thought for a long while, quietly digesting his insight into the Great Dao.

Although still hazy and crude, he had faintly perceived an embryonic outline of the vast and boundless Dao.

He truly had grasped a sliver of enlightenment—that all paths of the Dao ultimately converge.

A unique “Dao” began to sprout within his mind.

Over the years, he had traveled far and wide, learning a scattered assortment of array formations, sword arts, spells, spiritual techniques, and cause-and-effect sorceries. Now, all of them resonated with his sea of consciousness, showing signs of fusion.

Those seemingly distinct and ever-changing “arts,” each clear and separate, were beginning to evolve within his mind toward something resembling the primal Dao.

But this “fusion” only just began before it stalled.

Mo Hua’s comprehension was still far too shallow.

The Dao embryo was only a budding sign, lacking the foundation to merge completely.

Mo Hua let out a soft sigh.

As before, his realm was still too low.

With his current cultivation, he could not break through the barriers between different arts. He was unable to truly pierce through the superficial “techniques” to glimpse the underlying Dao, let alone attain the realm of “returning to the Dao, returning to truth.”

Moreover, even his understanding of the specific “arts” was still far from sufficient.

His mastery of the arts was not yet refined enough.

“To rely entirely on techniques is worse than having none. Yet without techniques, there is also no Dao.”

Whether it was array formations, spells, sword arts, spiritual laws, or divinations of cause and effect—all of these concrete arts still needed further tempering, deeper study, until he reached mastery and enlightenment at the highest level.

“Art is the bridge to the Dao. The stronger the art, the sturdier the bridge.”

If one wished to pursue the Dao, one must first cultivate art to its utmost.

“To refine the arts to perfection, to wield them with mastery and ease, to approach the realm of transformation—only then can the barrier between art and Dao be broken. Only then can one pierce through the surface of art and glimpse the essence of Dao.

And even further—shatter the barriers between different arts.

Fuse all laws of Dao into one.

Let Dao follow the heart, let law arise from the heart. With a single thought, countless arts are born and perish, enduring eternally…”

The confusion in Mo Hua’s heart regarding cultivation gradually cleared.

He now had a clearer understanding of the path he must take, the Dao he must seek, and how he would walk it step by step.

In the dark of night, his eyes shone bright as fire.

Meanwhile, the distant battlefield raged on, the sounds of slaughter unending.

The movements of all combatants, the ebb and flow of killing intent, the factors of victory and defeat—all unfolded within Mo Hua’s calculations.

Sitting in the shadows, Mo Hua seemed like a hidden manipulator, invisibly controlling everything.

And this battle was only the beginning.

The slaughter in the mountains raged until dawn before the counter-ambush against the Bifang Tribe finally ended.

The Bifang Tribe suffered a crushing defeat—over sixty elite warriors slain, and more than two hundred tribal slaves dead.

Bi Jie, besieged by Dan-Zhu and Chi Feng, was left battered and humiliated.

Retreating to a camp fifty li away, Bi Jie could not conceal his fury.

This was not his greatest defeat so far—But it was by far the most humiliating.

He had been beaten by Dan-Zhu, who was one realm lower, inexperienced in battle, practically still “wet behind the ears.”

For generations, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and the Bifang Tribe had been locked in an eternal blood feud.

Both Bi Jie and Dan-Zhu were young masters, both famed as geniuses.

Yet the cunning and ruthless Bi Jie had never once regarded the indecisive, youthful, and seemingly “hypocritically kind-hearted” Dan-Zhu as worthy of attention.

But now it was precisely Dan-Zhu who had delivered him such a disgraceful defeat.

How could Bi Jie not be furious?

Back in their temporary encampment, his wounds still throbbed from Dan-Zhu’s Mystic Flame. Anger burned hotter in his chest, seeking an outlet.

He seized several Foundation Establishment commanders who had fled without orders—cutting each in half with his blade.

After the slaughter, Bi Jie turned, his voice sharp and wrathful:

“Speak! Who leaked word to the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe?”

The lesser commanders fell silent in terror, fearing that a single wrong word would cost them their heads.

Only a gray-eyed elder finally spoke, his voice steady:

“Young master, you must not be rash.”

This elder, a mid-stage Golden Core cultivator, was highly respected.

Even Bi Jie regarded him with respect and reined in his fury slightly.

The gray-eyed elder dismissed the others with a wave.

They fled the tent like men spared from execution.

Now only Bi Jie and the elder remained.

“Elder She,” Bi Jie demanded, “why stop me from questioning them?”

“Because,” Elder She shook his head, “in the face of such a great defeat, the last thing we can afford is to shake morale. Besides, I suspect there is more to this than simple betrayal.”

Bi Jie frowned. “You mean… no one leaked word?”

The elder nodded.

Bi Jie sneered. “If no one betrayed us, then how did the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe know our every move? At every step, they seized upon our flaws, pursued us, and butchered over sixty of my elites!”

These elites had followed him through life and death. They were his most loyal men.

Bi Jie’s heart bled with rage.

The elder spoke calmly: “If you blame everything on ‘traitors’ and punish your subordinates cruelly, it will only spread fear and chaos in the army.

These soldiers are your foundation. Whatever happens, the first priority is to stabilize morale.”

But such reasoned words only made Bi Jie’s temper flare.

The elder’s heart grew heavy.

Bi Jie was indeed gifted—capable, ruthless, cunning, destined for great achievements.

But his temperament carried flaws.

Scheming men often bred suspicion and mistrust, their insecurity breeding paranoia.

In times of crisis, their first suspicion always fell upon those nearest to them. And Bi Jie’s temper was volatile, his methods cruel.

This was inevitable.

In the brutal wilderness, any true hegemon was forged of such traits. Only such men could inspire fear, avoid betrayal, and seize power.

Yet even so, the elder felt a growing unease.

Not only had their campaign been calculated against—he feared that even Bi Jie’s very heart was being manipulated.

This battle, where Dan-Zhu displayed brilliance and crushed the Bifang Tribe, was undoubtedly a humiliation to Bi Jie.

If the young master gave in to rage, lost all measure, and began doubting his men, morale would collapse—and their plans would be ruined.

But Bi Jie’s arrogance was not easily restrained, not even by him.

The elder frowned, his voice low:

“Young master, if you cannot endure the small, you will ruin the great. That thing… do you not still want it?”

Bi Jie’s pupils shrank. At once, he calmed down.

Thinking of something crucial, his gaze grew solemn. He bowed slightly:

“Elder She, I lost my composure.”

The elder nodded faintly.

Though arrogant, he could still restrain himself for the sake of great matters. That showed promise.

In time, he could indeed become a great overlord of the wilderness.

The elder continued: “Whether or not there is a traitor, it must not be made public. If we investigate, it must be done in secret.”

“But this matter…” He frowned. “I believe it was not the work of a traitor.”

Bi Jie’s eyes narrowed. “Then what do you mean?”

The elder said slowly: “My poison, in theory, cannot be cured. Yet few of the Vermilion Sparrow soldiers died from it. This can only mean someone neutralized my sorcery.

That means the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe harbors a master.”

Bi Jie frowned. “A master?”

The elder nodded. “Not only did he dispel my poison, but he also orchestrated their movements, broke our night raid, and turned the ambush against us.

This is highly unnatural.

The only explanation is that this Vermilion Sparrow master possesses a secret inheritance, and is well-versed in the shamanic arts of divination.”

Bi Jie scowled. “But who? I have seen no such figure among them.”

The elder’s expression grew meaningful.

Bi Jie froze, then frowned deeply. “Surely you don’t mean that pampered little shaman-boy, do you?”

The elder stayed silent.

Bi Jie scoffed coldly: “He’s just a youth! Every true Shaman is chosen only after centuries of cultivation and service to the royal court. Only then are they worthy of the title.

Only the simple-minded Vermilion Sparrow Tribe would enthrone a mere ‘Foundation brat’ as Shaman, pretending to rally hearts.

Do they think the rest of us are fools?”

The elder’s gaze turned dangerous. “But what if this youth has, in fact, lived for centuries?”

Bi Jie’s face froze in shock.

“You mean… like that legendary figure, he used some forbidden ancient shamanic taboo—not to prolong life, but to seize…”

His eyelid twitched. He dared not finish the thought.

The elder’s face darkened, but he shook his head.

“Unlikely. If that were true, he could never again walk in sunlight, nor stand openly as a Shaman before the people.”

“Still, this youth is shrouded in mystery, strange in every way. He must not be underestimated.

This Vermilion Sparrow plot may very well be tied to him.”

Bi Jie frowned, realizing he might indeed have judged by appearances.

To achieve greatness, not a single hidden danger could be allowed to remain. Any who could become a stumbling block must be crushed utterly.

“No matter if that boy is truly a Shaman or not—if I meet him again, he must die!” His gaze turned cold.

The elder nodded.

Shaman or diviner, once slain, they would die all the same.

So too with Dan-Zhu.

No matter how talented, once dead, one is nothing but bones.

The elder’s tone grew grim: “This Shugu Tribe stronghold must be taken… At all costs.”

Bi Jie nodded darkly, eyes burning with ambition and hunger.

…

In the Bifang camp, the atmosphere was heavy with defeat.

In the Shugu Tribe’s stone hall, however, the bonfires blazed bright.

The barbarian soldiers of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe circled the flames, dancing war dances, gnawing on dried meat, and drinking some unknown liquor, celebrating their great victory.

In this ambush, they had slain many cultivators of the Bifang Tribe, while their own casualties were almost negligible.

It was a decisive triumph. The long-borne resentment from days of ambushes and poisonings by the Bifang Tribe was swept away in one stroke.

Everyone was in high spirits, voices rising in praise of the Vermilion Sparrow young master Dan-Zhu’s brilliance and martial valor, and of Lord Chi-Feng the barbarian general’s divine command of troops.

Dan-Zhu could not help but glance sideways at Mo Hua, who sat quietly, chewing on dried meat.

These praises, Dan-Zhu felt unworthy of.

In his heart, he knew all of this was the credit of “Mister Wu.”

It was Mister Wu’s unfathomable foresight, his godlike calculations, that had made this victory possible.

Yet Mister Wu never boasted, nor allowed others to do so. He simply remained in the shadows, calm and detached, like water—silent, uncompetitive, a man who, once matters were done, brushed off his robes and hid both merit and fame.

Thus all the praise and attention fell upon Dan-Zhu as the young master.

Dan-Zhu felt ashamed, all the more regarding Mister Wu as lofty in character, untempted by fame and gain.

“With such vast divine powers, and such noble integrity, could it be… that Mister Wu truly was sent by the gods themselves, to guide me forward…?”

So thought Dan-Zhu.

Meanwhile, Chi-Feng was secretly studying Mo Hua as well.

In his heart, he was shaken—more so than anyone else, to the point that he still had not recovered.

Mo Hua had only ever revealed the specifics of his deductions to Chi-Feng alone.

Thus only Chi-Feng knew that this ambush had unfolded exactly as Mister Wu had said—down to the finest detail.

To foresee the future at all was already mysterious enough.

But if one not only foresaw it, but described every detail as vividly as if he had “seen it with his own eyes”?

Such an inconceivable thing had no explanation save for “divine miracle.”

Mister Wu had truly told him what was going to happen.

In warfare, this was nothing less than “cheating.”

Cheating with omniscience and omnipotence.

Chi-Feng had fought wars his entire life—how could he not understand how terrifying that was?

If this Mister Wu could always receive “divine revelations,” then his standing in the wars of the Great Wilderness tribes would be unmatched.

And such a figure had suddenly “descended from the skies” into their Vermilion Sparrow Tribe?

It felt like a dream come alive.

Even Chi-Feng, usually iron-willed and clear-headed, now found himself doubting reality.

……

After this battle, Mo Hua’s position in the hearts of Dan-Zhu and Chi-Feng was elevated yet again—to an even more exalted height.

Now, Mo Hua’s words were practically “golden decrees.”

Even Chi-Feng, a mid-Golden Core barbarian general, would obey him almost without condition.

Nothing is more convincing than reality—especially victory in war.

From then on, Mo Hua could practically decide all military matters with a single word.

Chi-Feng would only take Mo Hua’s “instructions” and arrange the tactics accordingly, never questioning them.

He knew very well he had no qualification to doubt a Shaman who could receive “divine revelations” and see the future.

With Mo Hua’s guidance, the battles that followed became much easier.

In one fight, they had slain more than sixty Bifang elites and another hundred or two “fodder,” gravely wounding Bi Jie’s forces.

When Mo Hua deduced again afterwards, the burden was far lighter.

And he had grown more cautious—no longer daring to calculate too much.

Instead, within his sea of consciousness, he “constructed” heaven and earth with divine thought, modeled human hearts through cause and effect, and deduced their actions.

He only sought broad strokes: the time, the place, and the presence of people.

This was not only a simulation of Heaven, Earth, and Man, but also a refinement of his “derivative calculations.”

It also trained his control over spiritual sense—managing consumption to avoid another backlash of fate & death Qi from overexertion.

Thus, Mo Hua’s deductions henceforth often yielded no more than one or two lines of causal “hints.”

But for Chi-Feng, that was more than enough.

With Mo Hua’s hints, Chi-Feng repeatedly repelled Bi Jie’s assaults.

Bi Jie’s casualties grew ever heavier.

Yet the course of events still surprised Mo Hua somewhat.

Even with losses to this extent, Bi Jie clung on like a starving wolf, refusing to let go.

At the slightest chance, he would pounce and bite, never granting the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe a moment to retreat.

“Did I overestimate this Bi Jie?”

Mo Hua frowned.

He had thought that Bi Jie, at the very least, was a budding “warlord.”

Since he was a warlord, he should naturally understand the principle that a true man can bend and stretch, that he should adapt to circumstances instead of acting rashly out of pride.

But now Bi Jie seemed as if he had gone mad.

Even though his subordinates had already suffered severe casualties, he still clung on relentlessly, refusing to let go, as if he would never stop until he achieved his goal.

This was something Mo Hua could not understand.

“Could it be that Bi Jie, though ruthless and capable, is too narrow-minded and stubborn, with a heart too petty, so that whenever he suffers the slightest loss, he must take revenge?”

“Or is it that Bi Jie intends to rebel against his father, and so at all costs wants to swallow up this batch of barbarian armor from the Shugu Tribe to strengthen his own forces?”

“Otherwise, there is no way to explain why he is fighting so desperately…”

“But if all his men die, what use will the armor be?”

“Even if he gains the barbarian armor, does that mean he can become the Great Chieftain?”

“With his personal guards dead, who will help him conquer on all sides? Who will even support him in becoming Great Chieftain?”

Mo Hua couldn’t figure it out, but he didn’t waste too much thought on it either.

If Bi Jie wanted to die, then let him die.

He would let Bi Jie exhaust his troops, then calculate a karmic node, “bestow” upon him a fatal tribulation, and let him experience the feeling of a genius perishing young.

But before Mo Hua could actually do this, the situation changed again.

Outside the Shugu Valley, barbarian soldiers from several other medium-to-large tribes had gathered, probably four to five hundred of them.

They all surrounded Bi Jie, serving under him.

Yet these men weren’t reinforcements from the Bifang Tribe at all, but soldiers Bi Jie had bribed with some price from the surrounding tribes.

This instantly multiplied the pressure on the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

With greater numbers and increasingly frequent attacks, the intensity and frequency of Mo Hua’s “derivations” increased, and the burden on him surged.

His divine sense, from the excessive consumption, repeatedly teetered on the brink of “losing control.”

Dan Zhu and Chi Feng also wore grave expressions.

Their numbers and strength were far inferior to the enemy’s; even with Mo Hua’s “Divine Oracle,” the battle was proving extremely difficult.

The situation once again became tense.

But Mo Hua wasn’t paying much attention to the battlefield itself. Instead, his suspicion grew stronger.

“No… something’s not right…”

“This Bi Jie… something’s very wrong with him…”

Mo Hua frowned.

Bi Jie was a young master. No matter what, he wouldn’t possibly pay such a heavy price just to clash head-on with them.

For him to act like this, it was definitely not merely a matter of pride, nor could it be only for revenge.

He must have another reason!

What reason?

Mo Hua ran the whole matter through his mind again, and his eyes flickered:

Aside from that batch of barbarian armor, could it be that here in the Shugu Secret Division, there was something else Bi Jie wanted?

And that something was so extremely important that Bi Jie would stop at nothing to obtain it—

Even to the point where he couldn’t reveal it, couldn’t tell anyone else?

(End of this Chapter)