Chapter 1222: Deity-Slaying

Chapter 1221: Deity-Slaying

What just happened?

Why did Shi-Gu, the so-called “undying, immortal” man-eating general, suddenly kneel?

And what was that invisible yet overwhelming ripple just now?

Who exactly is this Mister Wu?

Such confused and jumbled thoughts echoed in everyone’s minds—especially the Shugu tribe’s barbarian cultivators, led by the general Lu-Gu.

The air was deathly silent.

Mo Hua, whose Divine Sense Astral Projection had projected forth and in but a blink of an eye severed the evil thought within Shi-Gu’s eyes with a single sword strike, slowly closed his eyes. All the flowing sword-intent in his gaze withdrew, and his entire demeanor settled into serenity— as though he had merely done something trivial.

“Bind Shi-Gu’s corpse.”

Mo Hua spoke lightly.

Only then did the crowd come back to their senses.

Lu-Gu still carried lingering shock and disbelief, but he also knew this was no time to delay. His voice was low and steady:

“Bring out the heavy shackles of the Shugu tribe.”

Several Shugu Golden Core cultivators immediately drew from their Storage Rings black heavy-bone chains. They fastened them tightly around Shi-Gu’s kneeling body.

This was a mid-grade, third-rank binding implement—likely a relic left by their ancestors. Now that Shi-Gu’s evil intent had been erased, with no “vital drive” left in him, he let the massive chains bind his flesh without showing the least sign of resistance.

Lu-Gu’s eyelid twitched. He turned toward Mo Hua, contemplated briefly, then slowly asked:

“Mister Wu… what in the world is going on?”

Unconsciously, a note of respect—even faint reverence—had crept into his tone.

No one knew better than him how terrifying his elder brother Shi-Gu had been.

In that battle just now, faced with an almost “immortal, indestructible” Shi-Gu, he had felt nearly crushed by despair.

Yet such a Shi-Gu had been subdued by a single command—“Kneel.”

Lu-Gu’s heart trembled with shock and incomprehension. Even more, he could not fathom why his elder brother had become such a monster.

Mo Hua glanced at him, his eyes calm:

“This is the work of heresy.”

“Heresy?” Lu-Gu frowned.

Mo Hua nodded gravely:

“A blasphemous presence lurks here, spreading corruption and bewitching hearts. General Shi-Gu’s mind was seized by it—thus he ‘died and revived,’ bringing calamity upon the world.

“Now, I borrowed the Divine-Lord’s will and supreme divine might to erase the evil intent and halt Shi-Gu’s atrocities.

“All of this is the Divine-Lord’s grace.”

Dan-Zhu and Chi-Feng believed without doubt.

Elders Ba-Shan and Ba-Chuan, gazing at the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Mo Hua, found their eyes unconsciously tinged with fanaticism.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s warriors roared praises of “The Divine-Lord’s greatness!” and “Lord Shaman’s might!”

Amidst the thunderous chorus, Mo Hua’s expression was solemn and divine.

Lu-Gu, however, looked at him with a mind in turmoil.

This pale, youthful Foundation Establishment cultivator—was he truly a holy shaman, or a sinister demon?

For the first time, Lu-Gu could no longer tell.

“Mister Wu…” Lu-Gu’s face grew solemn, “my brother Shi-Gu—what of him now? Will he cause more chaos?”

Mo Hua was about to say, “No, the Divine-Lord has suppressed him,” but before the words left his mouth, a feral snarl erupted.

The sound was bloodthirsty and oppressive.

Faces paled as all turned—Shi-Gu, bound in heavy chains, now bled black ichor from his eye sockets.

Evil intent surged anew.

A heartbeat thundered, trembling with hunger for flesh and blood.

Shi-Gu had “revived” once more.

Lu-Gu felt a chill and looked urgently to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua’s pupils contracted.

This Shi-Gu…

He had clearly erased the evil intent in his sea of consciousness, yet before long it had regrown.

That meant the force within Shi-Gu’s mind was not a mere remnant— but very likely the true will of a Evil God.

Mo Hua turned, gaze shifting to the fog-choked Shugu settlement.

All signs pointed to this: the Shugu tribe had nurtured a true Evil God.

After pondering, Mo Hua spoke slowly:

“The heresy itself remains. The evil has not retreated. So long as it persists, Shi-Gu will revive again and again.”

His words drained the color from everyone’s faces. It was as though a dark cloud smothered every heart.

“But…”

Mo Hua’s tone sharpened. “As a Shaman, it is my mission to spread the Divine-Lord’s glory and purge all heresy.

“This heresy lies within the depths of the miasma.

“I shall enter it myself, borrow the Divine-Lord’s might, and sever this heresy—thus cleansing the Shugu tribe’s evil fog.

“In doing so, I will grant General Shi-Gu, and all the fallen clansmen, release from corruption—so that they need not linger as wretched corpses, but attain eternal peace.”

Mo Hua’s eyes glowed with boundless compassion.

Everyone gazed at the suffocating fog, knowing that within it hid the heretic Evil god.

This heresy had devoured the Shugu tribe, condemning even their great general to a fate worse than death.

And now, Lord Shaman would personally walk into that miasma, into the ruins of the fallen tribe…

Hearts swelled with awe and fear alike.

Dan-Zhu spoke at once: “Mister Wu, I will accompany you.”

Mo Hua shook his head. “I will go alone.”

“Mister Wu—”

Mo Hua said gently, “If you follow, I cannot protect you.”

A Foundation Establishment unable to protect a Golden Core—an absurd claim.

Yet in this moment, no one felt the least incongruity.

It seemed the natural truth.

If they went, they would only hold back this Foundation Establishment shaman.

Dan-Zhu’s eyes brimmed with worry. “But if you go alone… what if—”

Mo Hua answered calmly, “If I return, the heresy will be destroyed, all will be well.

“If by chance I do not return, you need not grieve…

“You are chosen by the Divine-Lord. Even without me, He will send another to guide you.”

Dan-Zhu’s chest ached. “Mister Wu…”

Mo Hua met his gaze with warmth.

“Do not worry. I told you already—all my power is the Divine-Lord’s. He will protect me.”

Then Mo Hua turned to Lu-Gu:

“Keep your brother’s corpse sealed. While I walk the evil mist, you must not let him break free—if he riots again, all of you will be in peril.”

Lu-Gu reflexively answered, “Yes.”

At once, he froze.

He, the great general of the Shugu, a late-stage Golden Core, usually commanding such prestige—yet he had just obeyed a Foundation Establishment “demon”?

Lu-Gu stood stiff.

Mo Hua, ignoring him, issued a few more instructions to Chi-Feng and the others. Then he stepped out alone, advancing to the edge of the fog, standing solitary.

He lifted his head slightly, gazed skyward, and prayed devoutly:

“Divine-Lord above, your follower prays: today I will sever the heresy and spread Your glory.

“I beg You, grant me divine power to pierce the evil fog, to find the heresy, and by divine might smite it, ending this calamity and cleansing the Great Wilderness.”

Finished, Mo Hua went through the motions of three grand bows.

Then he stood still, closed his eyes, as if awaiting the Divine-Lord’s reply.

All Golden Cores, all six thousand barbarian soldiers, watched in reverent silence, scarcely daring to breathe.

No one knew what response the Divine-Lord had granted him.

But when Mo Hua opened his eyes and took his first step…

They all saw the unthinkable.

Sacred runes!

Faint blue, profound and brimming with vitality—sacred runes formed beneath Lord Shaman’s feet, unbidden.

They stretched forward, weaving a path, as though heaven itself had marked the way.

Wherever the runes spread, the miasma of evil intent recoiled, rolling aside as if cowed by divine might.

Calmly, Lord Shaman walked along the sacred path into the depths of the seething fog.

His gaze was tranquil, devoid of emotion.

Yet from his back, everyone sensed the unwavering faith and fearless courage of one who would stand against the abyss.

In that moment, a sublime feeling seized all their hearts.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, the Wutu Tribe, even many of the Shugu’s own warriors fell to their knees, praying:

“May the Divine-Lord protect Lord Shaman.”

“May Lord Shaman protect the Great Wilderness.”

Dan-Zhu and the Golden Cores did not kneel, but each pressed fist to chest, silently praying for him.

Iron Shugu’s face was twisted with painful conflict.

Lu-Gu’s eyes were a storm of complexity.

They all watched Mo Hua.

And Mo Hua, under their gaze, strode alone along the sacred path, deeper and deeper into the miasma—

Until at last, his figure vanished into the abyss.

Like a lone pilgrim bearing a divine mission, confronting the world’s greatest evil.

Time trickled by.

Mo Hua walked on, alone in the mist.

When he had gone far enough, deeper into the Shugu ruins, no longer feeling the gazes and concerns behind him, he finally sighed.

The solemn mask slipped, and his expression relaxed into something human.

Acting really was exhausting—especially pretending to be “Lord Shaman” before a whole crowd.

He wondered privately—had he played the role well enough?

With no eyes upon him, no burden of the “Shaman,” Mo Hua grew far more casual.

His pale fingers wove swiftly, manipulating spirit-ink to inscribe the painstakingly-researched Profound-Earth Reconstruction Absolute Formation beneath his feet.

It shielded him against the devouring power of the famine fog, carving out a safe path forward.

Meanwhile, Mo Hua’s eyes roamed left and right, taking in the ruined Shugu tribe swallowed by famine.

Everywhere was devastation. Broken walls and shattered beams, smeared with dark brown bloodstains.

From the remnants alone, it was clear the Shugu tribe had once been vast and mighty.

But even such strength could not resist the famine.

“Great General” was a title.

Shi-Gu was not only a Great General but also the rightful chieftain, holding both the tribe’s military and political power.

Yet even he had fallen into such a grotesque half-living fate.

It could only mean the Shugu tribe was utterly destroyed, its people all perished.

And still—something about it all felt strangely wrong.

A tribe as large as Shi-Gu’s could not have been without any sense of crisis.

Even if Shi-Gu himself was a brutal, headstrong, and reckless Great General, surely there were wise elders within the tribe who would have spoken up with foresight.

The life and death of an entire tribe was no small matter.

Moreover, when the Great Famine spread—

Even if they could not see its baleful aura, they could still see the withering land and the corpses of spirit beasts.

There was no way they had not thought of migration.

Even less likely was that the entire tribe simply sat still, waiting for the famine to “devour” them and plunge them into cannibalistic horror.

That was absolutely impossible.

Unless…

Mo Hua’s gaze grew focused.

“Before the Great Famine descended, the Shi-Gu Tribe must have already fallen for some other reason…”

Thus, when the miasma arrived, they had no chance to flee.

And judging by the current situation, that reason was most likely the Evil God.

Mo Hua pondered for a moment, then calmed his thoughts, concentrating fully as he guided ink with his divine sense, weaving the Profound-Earth Reconstruction Absolute Formation, paving his own path deeper into the Shi-Gu Tribe’s grounds.

The deeper he went, the more broken and blood-soaked the surroundings became.

Sticky clumps of flesh, some dried up, littered the way.

Severed limbs were strewn across the ground, half-eaten.

Not a single corpse remained intact.

Along the way, there were still some survivors of the Shi-Gu Tribe lingering with faint traces of life, but they were all half-human, half-ghost, completely stripped of reason.

They stared greedily at Mo Hua, yet instinctively shrank from the array force surrounding him, not daring to pounce and devour him.

Mo Hua ignored them.

Other than Shi-Gu himself, at the late Golden Core stage, no one left in the tribe could pose a threat to him.

Undistracted, he continued drawing formations, step by step paving his path forward.

Through the thick miasma, along the long stone road, past countless scenes of gore and cruelty, after who knew how long, Mo Hua finally reached the great hall at the very heart.

From within came the sound of a heartbeat.

It was the sign of surging evil thoughts.

The stench of the Evil God in the air was so thick it made Mo Hua nauseous.

And yet, that same nauseating aura inexplicably stirred a trace of excitement in him.

He extended his formation right up to the hall’s gate, then eagerly pushed it open.

This time, he had brought no one with him—not even Iron Shugu.

For before the Evil God, no companion had meaning; all would be burdens.

Besides, once an Evil God “descends,” the hall it inhabits lies at the threshold between “reality” and “illusion.”

No dance of Iron Shugu was needed—nightmare had already come.

As expected, the moment he opened the hall, a wave of distortion rushed out, warping the surroundings. Illusion and reality shifted and overlapped, and even his divine sense spun with dizziness.

Mo Hua instinctively closed his eyes.

When all had steadied and he reopened them, he realized he now stood within the nightmare of the Evil God.

Inside the great hall, there was a sea of blood and severed limbs. At its center, an Evil God loomed.

It was a monstrous being of bone, enormous in form, with rotting flesh clinging to its frame, its original visage unrecognizable.

Once, it had likely been a barbarian god worshipped by the Shi-Gu Tribe. Now, it was a fallen barbarian god.

And this was precisely Mo Hua’s “target” on this journey.

Yet unlike the other Evil Gods or half-corrupted barbarian gods Mo Hua had encountered before, this one was different.

It was steeped in extreme unwillingness and rage.

And it had lost its reason, sinking wholly into madness, utterly incapable of communication.

Of course, there was nothing to be communicated anyway.

The struggle between divine paths was to the death.

Mo Hua’s small, fair hand clenched, condensing the God-Breaking Divine Sense Sword.

Even as his sword of divine sense manifested, the Shi-Gu Evil God lunged first, seeking to tear him apart and devour him.

Thus began a battle of “divinities,” within the nightmare itself.

Mo Hua unleashed all his long-unused means—divine sense formations, divine sense arts, Dao-Manifested Divine-Sense Body, and the Supreme True Sword of the Great Void Divine Sense.

From the great hall, terrifying fluctuations of divine sense surged, radiating out across the entire valley.

Outside the valley, ordinary barbarian soldiers saw nothing—only felt a suffocating heaviness.

But Golden Core cultivators could sense a bloody, frenzied pressure emanating from the divine sense.

And from deep within the miasma, they felt a wave that inspired “fear.”

It was as if some dreadful battle was raging in the depths of the fog.

A battle beyond their comprehension.

Their hearts pounded with dread, though they knew not why.

Meanwhile, Shi-Gu, kneeling on the ground, bound by bone chains, suddenly went mad, howling and struggling as if personally locked in combat with some mighty foe.

The gathered Golden Core cultivators could only join forces to suppress him.

Their hearts, however, grew ever heavier.

Dan-Zhu’s face had turned pale, his heart full of worry.

Within the Evil God’s nightmare, however, the battle was progressing smoothly.

Mo Hua—one man, one sword, one will, one formation—relentlessly suppressed the Shi-Gu Evil God.

His earlier speculation had been correct.

This Shi-Gu Evil God’s grade was only of Third Rank Initial, with a divine sense realm weaker than his own.

That was why the Evil God’s fragment once parasitizing Shi-Gu’s head had been slain by Mo Hua’s Divine Sense Sword in a single stroke.

And because Shi-Gu had already “died,” and an Evil God’s will was not “human,” there was no danger of triggering the backlash of Fate-Bane upon its destruction.

Only—projecting his divine sense outward into reality through the divine-sense astral projection diminished the sword’s power greatly.

That was the barrier between “illusion” and “reality.”

Within the real world, the true power of the Divine Sense Sword Manifestation amounted to less than one-tenth of Mo Hua’s divine sense strength.

Because the power of the God-Slaying Sword weakened drastically in Astral Projection, Mo Hua could only cut down the parasitic evil thought within Shi-Gu, but could not erase it completely. Yet in the dream-realm, where there was no “barrier of reality and illusion,” Mo Hua’s Dao-Manifested Divine-Sense could be unleashed without restraint.

Only within the world of divine sense could the Sword Manifestation display its full strength.

This Third-Rank Shi-Gu Evil God, with its inferior realm and “demented” state, was no match for Mo Hua at all.

Moreover, it was still merely a “newborn” evil god, having only recently fallen into corruption.

Compared to the ancient evil gods of the Great Wilderness, such as its ruler who bore the will of primordial evil, it could not measure up.

Nor could it compare to someone like Mo Hua, a heaven-favored “anomaly of the divine path.”

Perhaps given time, it might have become one of those dreaded evil lords of the Great Wilderness, stirring storms of blood and terror.

But now, before the battle-hardened Mo Hua, it was far too “tender.”

In the end, after a fierce clash, with divine swords slashing, the divine body of the Shi-Gu Evil God was completely crushed by Mo Hua.

As its divine body began to re-form, Mo Hua instantly trapped it with the Golden Lock Formation. Then, raising both hands to the sky, he summoned the final form of the God-Slaying Sword, a Sword Manifestation of Taixu Divine Sense, brimming with vast divine power.

With a giant sword of divine sense woven from the flow of countless laws, he cleaved apart the Evil God of the Shi-Gu Tribe.

In its last moments, the evil god glanced at Mo Hua, eyes filled with rage and unwillingness.

Rage at the fall of its believers.

Unwillingness at the collapse of its divine path.

And yet, those emotions gradually melted into release, and even seemed to carry a trace of inexplicable gratitude.

As if it was grateful to Mo Hua—for slaying it.

Grateful that Mo Hua possessed the strength to end it.

Within such a complex gaze, the Shi-Gu Evil God was “hunted” by Mo Hua, dissolving into a dense cloud of evil thought and miasma.

(End of this Chapter)