Chapter 1210: The Formation of Heavy Armor

Chapter 1209: The Formation of Heavy Armor

Lugu’s frame was tall and imposing, clad in dark, sinister bone armor, his face painted with a blood-red war mask.

He was the great general of the main Shugu Tribe, his battle achievements resplendent, his authority even greater than that of the aging Shugu chieftain.

This campaign against the Wusha Mountain Realm was commanded entirely by him.

Lugu, too, was battle-hardened, and this expedition against the second-grade mountain realm of Wusha had never concerned him much.

Yet now, watching Dan-Zhu and the others retreat into the distance, thinking back on the strange formations he had just witnessed, Lugu’s expression grew heavy.

“These sacred runes… bizarre and unique… not of the Royal Court’s inheritance…”

“What that Iron Shugu said—could it be true?”

“That Shaman of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe… is he truly a treacherous, skin-wearing demon?”

“On the land of my Great Wilderness, could such a human-skin demon really appear beneath broad daylight?”

A violent gleam surfaced in Lugu’s eyes.

At his side, a personal guard asked, “Lord Lugu, shall we pursue?”

Lugu was silent for a moment before saying, “No need.”

“B-but…” the guard hesitated, “three heavy-armored warriors were taken, and they wore the ancestral Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor—”

Lugu sneered. “So what if they were taken? The things left by the ancestors—how could they possibly fall into others’ hands so easily?”

The guard dared not speak further.

Lugu’s gaze sharpened as he commanded, “Pass down the order. Keep pressing forward. If there’s a mountain, take it. If there are men, kill them. This war was never simply about conquest.”

He laughed coldly. “They stole three suits of heavy armor—let them pay with land in return. I want to see if Dan-Zhu dares reckon with this trade.”

“Yes!” The guard went to pass the order.

The main Shugu Tribe’s barbarian soldiers surged forward in full force.

Mo Hua’s orders had been “retreat,” not “defend.”

Besides, for now they were truly no match for the main Shugu force, so retreat was their only option.

General Lugu seized the moment without hesitation, pressing the attack.

With no obstacles in their way, the Shugu army advanced swiftly, seizing mountains and ridges, unstoppable in their path.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and Wutu Alliance could only retreat step after step.

Defeat bred retreat, retreat bred further defeat, and they fell back again and again.

Dan-Zhu and his men retreated for a full day and night until they finally relied on the vast Witchwind Mountain Range spanning the Wusha Realm to halt their rout and confront the Shugu force.

By then, the Shugu Tribe had already occupied more than half of the Wusha Realm.

Although Mo Hua, as Shaman, had earlier ordered all the tribes within Wusha to evacuate in advance—people, food, and valuables left behind—many things simply could not be moved in such haste.

For the Shugu Tribe, this was a great victory.

The cost? Merely three heavy-armored warriors and three suits of Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor.

…

In the eastern Wusha Realm, still under Mo Hua’s control.

Within a small tribal encampment, a wide tent now housed a sealed prison.

Inside, three Abyssal Bone Heavy Armored warriors were shackled, their bodies suppressed by formation, hands and feet bound by chains.

Mo Hua, with a group of Golden Cores, prepared to carefully study these ancient armors passed down in the Shugu Tribe.

He temporarily dispelled the formation.

The triple-layered Gold, Water, and Earth formations dissipated, the drowning effect lifted, and the three armored warriors could finally breathe again.

But in the very moment Mo Hua unraveled the formation—

One of the armored warriors, gaze resolute, shouted:

“For the Barbarian God! For the Shugu Tribe! For the ancestors!”

Then, with a sharp bite, he severed his tongue. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

His life force instantly severed.

The Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor on his body flickered with a deep, eerie glow, demonic energy surging and twisting—then abruptly detonated!

Dan-Zhu sensed danger and instantly flashed in front of Mo Hua.

Barbarian general Chì-Fēng and the elders Bā Shān and Bā Chuān shielded Dan-Zhu.

The heavy armor exploded, shattering into fragments, the warrior inside bursting into a cloud of blood mist.

The fragments and blood fog spread with the blast’s aftershock, staining the ground and pitting the prison’s walls and stone pillars.

Mo Hua stood motionless.

Before him, Dan-Zhu and the others bore the brunt of the explosion for him.

When the smoke cleared, the armored warrior had utterly “self-destructed,” body and armor alike blown to pieces.

Everyone’s faces darkened.

And almost at once, they heard another armored warrior muttering:

“For the Barbarian God! For—”

Mo Hua shouted, “Stop him!”

Even as he spoke, the bloodied Chì-Fēng had already leapt forward, seizing the warrior’s throat and cutting off his words.

Denied the chance to finish his oath—“for the Shugu Tribe, for the ancestors”—the armored warrior’s expression showed regret.

His face twisted fiercely. Ignoring Chì-Fēng’s grip, he bit down violently and severed his tongue.

Normally, losing one’s tongue wouldn’t mean death.

But these Shugu heavy-armored warriors had learned some “witchcraft”—once their tongue was severed, their life instantly ended.

As his life extinguished, the Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor detonated with him.

This time, the blast was even stronger.

Chì-Fēng, closest of all, despite his mid-Golden Core strength, was flung more than ten zhang away, armor torn, body battered with wounds.

Two consecutive self-detonations left not only Chì-Fēng but even Dan-Zhu and the others dazed from the shockwaves.

At that very moment, the last surviving armored warrior recovered from the blast’s aftermath.

Protected by his Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor, he endured the shockwave, though his face was shredded and bloodied by flying fragments.

Yet on that ruined face now surfaced a grim, determined smile.

Dan-Zhu, sharp of mind, paled. “Not good!”

But after two self-detonations, even these Golden Cores were still stiff from the aftershocks.

In less than a single breath, they could not stop this final warrior from killing himself.

The armored warrior murmured in his heart: “For the Barbarian God…” and bit down hard.

But before he could, Mo Hua’s eyes locked on him.

Those eyes—sharp as swords, like a prison of blades, black murderous aura surging like a sea.

The warrior’s grim smile froze. Terror flooded his gaze. Under the crushing mental pressure, his will collapsed, his eyes went blank, and he toppled to the ground.

Dan-Zhu and the others turned, shocked, to look at Mo Hua.

Mo Hua closed his eyes, dispersing the killing aura. When he opened them again, they were clear and calm. He said lightly:

“Bind him. Use steel clamps to lock his mouth. Don’t let him bite his tongue.”

Bā Shān followed the order, clamping the last living warrior’s mouth shut. He could open and close it, but biting his tongue was impossible.

Mo Hua turned to examine the two who had already self-destructed.

They were utterly pulverized—flesh mist, shattered bones.

Their armors were obliterated too, reduced to shards mixed with blood and bone.

Mo Hua sifted through and picked out a few fragments.

These fragments were tougher, inscribed with formations—ancient ones, from their look.

But self-destruction had come from within, starting with the formations. Once they detonated, nothing could survive.

Mo Hua fell into thought.

Chì-Fēng, though gravely injured, still stood. His Golden Core mid-stage cultivation meant his bones were intact. After a pause, he said to Mo Hua:

“It seems these are the sole inherited ancient armors. Destroy one, and there is one less forever.”

“Those who wear them are fierce, loyal warriors chosen carefully. They bind their flesh and armor, tie their tongues to their lives, and learn this witchcraft of self-death. Once captured or cornered, they sever the tongue, end their life, and trigger the armor’s self-destruction—dying with the enemy, ensuring the armor never falls into another’s hands…”

Mo Hua nodded, then glanced at Iron Shugu.

Iron Shugu shivered under Mo Hua’s gaze and stammered, “L-Lord Chì-Fēng speaks… the truth…”

Mo Hua said nothing, only pondered before speaking to Chì-Fēng:

“Lord Chì-Fēng, you and the young master should go about your duties.”

Outside, Lugu pressed forward with the main Shugu Tribe like a savage tiger.

With such a foe looming, more urgent matters awaited.

Dan-Zhu hesitated. “Sir, what about you—”

“Don’t worry,” Mo Hua said, turning to glance at Iron Shugu. “Elder Iron Shugu will stay.”

Iron Shugu’s heart sank.

Dan-Zhu thought for a moment, then nodded. “Sir, please take care.”

“Mm.”

Dan-Zhu led Chì-Fēng and the others away.

Inside the bloodstained prison, only Mo Hua, Iron Shugu, and the last surviving armored warrior remained.

Mo Hua looked at the warrior, a trace of admiration in his heart.

These armored warriors, devout in faith, unyielding, fearless of death—indeed rare and valiant men. If only they could be used for his own cause…

Alas, their stances opposed, their interests clashed. Only blades could decide matters now.

Mo Hua’s gaze fell on the Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor cladding the man.

Dark, heavy, impossibly hard—once worn, fused with flesh and blood, impossible to strip away. And if the warrior died, the armor would self-destruct with him.

Thus, another method was needed to extract the ancestral formations carved within the armor.

After a moment’s thought, Mo Hua ordered Iron Shugu:

“Wake him up.”

Iron Shugu hesitated. He did not know Mo Hua’s intentions, but dared not defy the “demon’s” command. He took out a bone needle and jabbed it into the warrior’s neck.

The heavy-armored barbarian jolted awake. Seeing Iron Shugu—especially the bone needle in his hand—he cried out in shock:

“You… you’re from the Shugu Tribe! You’re a Golden Core commander?!”

Iron Shugu did not answer.

The armored warrior roared in rage: “You’re a traitor?! You’ve betrayed the tribe, betrayed the ancestors, betrayed Lord Barbarian God! You dog!” His teeth clamped with iron bindings, his mouth bloody, his words muffled yet brimming with unspeakable fury.

To him, Iron Shugu’s deeds were utterly unforgivable.

Iron Shugu remained calm, silently enduring the insults of his clansman.

Yet Mo Hua could sense the pain hidden in his heart.

Only Mo Hua—the so-called “demon”—understood Iron Shugu’s loyalty and the burden of enduring humiliation.

Pity no one else did.

Mo Hua spoke to the armored barbarian: “Remove your armor, and I can spare your life.”

The barbarian looked at him with fear.

He could glare at Iron Shugu, curse him as traitor and dog, but he dared not show disrespect to Mo Hua.

Pale-faced, he asked: “You are not human—you are… a demon?”

Mo Hua’s expression was solemn and dignified. “I am the Divine-Lord’s shaman.”

The armored barbarian shook his head. “You’re no shaman. Your eyes are those of a demon. You’re terrifying. You cannot be a shaman.”

Mo Hua did not explain further, only repeated: “Remove the Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor, and I will spare your life.”

The barbarian asked, “Truly?”

Mo Hua replied, “I am a shaman. A shaman follows the creed of the gods—we do not lie.”

The barbarian straightened. “Fine. Untie my chains, and I will remove the armor for you. If you spare me, I will do anything.”

Mo Hua looked into his eyes and shook his head. “In your heart, you plan to commit suicide—and also to kill me.”

The barbarian’s face went pale. “You truly aren’t human. You’re a demon who sees through hearts!”

Mo Hua corrected him: “A shaman, not a demon.”

But clearly, the warrior did not believe him.

In his mind, Mo Hua was nothing but a terrifying humanoid demon.

Mo Hua could not fool him, and was slightly taken aback.

In truth, no one knew that hidden within his seemingly calm words earlier was a trace of the Dao-Heart Seeding Demon method.

Even though Mo Hua had not used it fully—only exerting one or two parts of his spiritual force—

After all, this armored warrior was only at the peak of Foundation Establishment, unworthy of Mo Hua’s full might as a late Foundation cultivator with twenty-three strands of divine sense.

Yet surprisingly, this warrior was unaffected by his “bewitchment.”

This puzzled Mo Hua deeply.

Was the barbarian simply too dull to grasp his hints?

Or was he too cautious, too wary of Mo Hua’s words?

Or perhaps… was his faith so firm, his belief so unshakable, that it shielded him?

Mo Hua hesitated—should he increase his force and properly apply Dao-Heart Seeding Demon once more?

But after a moment’s thought, he gave up.

Dao-Heart Seeding Demon was his Martial Uncle’s creation—often useful, but difficult to control.

Now, with only one warrior left, and one set of armor remaining, a misstep would ruin everything.

So, he would use more reliable methods—techniques he himself could control.

Decision made, Mo Hua asked the armored barbarian: “Has your armor never been breached?”

The barbarian nodded. “Naturally.”

Mo Hua said, “I don’t believe it.”

The barbarian sneered proudly:

“This armor was bestowed by Lord Barbarian God, passed down by the ancestors. Nothing in this world can break it.”

Mo Hua looked at him with disdain. “Let’s bet on it. I wager I can break your armor. I’ll show you that your so-called Barbarian God is a joke. Your ancestors—useless fools. Their armor, before me, is nothing but trash.”

His words were naked humiliation.

An insult to Lord Barbarian God, to the Shugu ancestors, and a trampling of the warrior’s honor.

So much so that the barbarian’s rage overcame his fear of the “demon” before him.

“You demon, how shameless!”

“Fine! Today I’ll see what means you have to break my ancestral armor!”

Mo Hua said, “If I fail to break it, I’ll let you live and apologize to your Barbarian God and ancestors.”

“But if I succeed, you must kneel and become my slave.”

The barbarian nodded, thinking to himself: If the armor is broken, I’ll kill myself. Slave or not doesn’t matter.

Aloud, he said, “Agreed.”

He fixed his gaze on Mo Hua, eager to see where his confidence came from—to dare challenge the Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor of the Shugu ancestors.

Mo Hua produced a spear and tossed it to Iron Shugu. “This spear has been blessed by me. It is a god-bestowed weapon. Use it to break the armor.”

Iron Shugu blinked. “Me?”

Mo Hua nodded. “You.”

Iron Shugu’s expression was complicated. He weighed the spear, frowned. It felt ordinary. Nothing unusual at all. Blessed? Really?

Of course, it hadn’t been blessed. Mo Hua was bluffing. It was just a common spear.

Seeing Iron Shugu with the weapon, the Shugu armored warrior’s eyes blazed with fury.

This traitor truly had become the demon’s lapdog—despite being a Golden Core.

The barbarian asked Mo Hua, “Am I allowed to fight back?”

Mo Hua nodded. “Yes.”

That was precisely what he wanted—real steel against steel, a true fight to the death.

Thus, within the Wusha Tribe’s prison, under Mo Hua’s permission, Iron Shugu and the armored warrior clashed fiercely.

Iron Shugu fought because Mo Hua ordered it, compelled to battle.

But the armored warrior genuinely wanted to kill him.

To him, Iron Shugu was a traitor through and through—betrayer of the Barbarian God, the ancestors, and the tribe.

The Shugu clansmen might not hold strong tribal loyalty,

but to Lord Barbarian God and the ancestors, they held unwavering devotion.

Therefore, this warrior longed to slaughter the traitor Iron Shugu.

Of course, as only a peak Foundation cultivator, he could never kill a Golden Core.

And though Iron Shugu was Golden Core, in this second-grade realm he could not truly slay the armored warrior either.

All the more so, since the Abyssal Bone Heavy Armor was nearly indestructible.

And Iron Shugu wielded nothing but Mo Hua’s so-called “blessed spear.”

So the two clashed back and forth, evenly matched for the moment. The longer they fought, the fiercer they became, tempers flaring, nearly forgetting where they even were.

And all of this unfolded under Mo Hua’s orchestration.

Mo Hua sat in the distance, silently watching.

He watched as Iron Shugu’s spear thrust again and again into the Abyssal-Bone Heavy Armor.

Inside the Abyssal-Bone Armor, formations circulated, like a giant beast breathing in and out, producing subtle and mysterious transformations. Because of this, the armor was endowed with immense toughness and brute strength, offsetting Iron Shugu’s strikes.

Others couldn’t see this clearly.

But Mo Hua, well-versed in formations, perceived it as if looking into fire.

Especially after he had clarified the interwoven changes of “formation” and “law,” and by applying Dao’s models of opposition and inversion to comprehend deeper principles—his understanding of formations had reached yet another height.

His calculations and deductions of formations flowed ever more smoothly.

Meanwhile, the two Shugu tribesmen, locked in “civil strife,” were utterly unaware of what this “demon” Mo Hua was secretly deducing. They couldn’t imagine it—couldn’t even begin to.

They might have known of Mo Hua’s “fearsome” nature.

But they did not truly know how profound and terrifying this demon-like pair of eyes, which pierced the essence of all things, really were.

Their endless clashes, the countless cycles of “armor-breaking” and “defense” centered around the Abyssal-Bone Heavy Armor—all of it was recorded by Mo Hua, becoming material for his deductions.

The results of those deductions became runes of formation, silently inscribed into jade slips by Mo Hua.

At last—after five full days of near sleepless, foodless observation and calculation—

Mo Hua obtained an entirely new Four Symbols’ formation.

This was precisely the core formation hidden inside the Abyssal-Bone Thousand Barbarians Heavy Armor, passed down from the Shugu ancestors.

And what surprised Mo Hua most was—this turned out to be…

A second-grade, twenty-rune Four Symbols Heavy Armor Formation.

This was… yet another Absolute Formation!

(End of this Chapter)