Chapter 1223: The Corpse

Chapter 1222: The Corpse

The Evil God Shi-Gu was slain by Mo Hua’s full-powered Great Void God-Slaying Sword. Its will collapsed, dispersing into smoke.

Mo Hua, like a divine Taotie, swallowed every wisp of that smoke into his belly.

But he did not intend to devour it immediately—instead, he planned to purify it later with the tribulation lightning of the Dao Stele, and only then completely consume this Evil God.

With Shi-Gu’s death, the nightmare began to shatter.

The surroundings warped, cracks splitting the dreamscape woven of evil thoughts.

A repulsive force surged around Mo Hua.

He slowly closed his eyes, letting his Divine Sense body be “expelled” from the Evil God’s nightmare.

The world spun. When he opened his eyes again, before him was still the blood-soaked Barbarian God Hall.

Only now the hall seemed far more real—the terrifying, oppressive will of the Evil God was gone.

Mo Hua knew he had returned to reality.

This journey’s purpose had been fulfilled.

He had slain the Evil God—and eaten it.

The problem of the Shi-Gu Tribe’s corpses reviving was resolved.

But the hall was bloody and sinister, the aura of famine still spreading, so it was not suitable to linger. Mo Hua prepared to leave and regroup with Dan-Zhu and the others.

Yet after only a few steps, he suddenly frowned.

The earlier doubts echoed in his heart once more.

Mo Hua paused in thought, then turned back, striding straight to the center of the great hall, where Shi-Gu’s idol stood.

The Shi-Gu idol was taller and more imposing—a beast-headed, human-bodied barbarian god clad in bone armor, its majesty overwhelming.

Compared to the rotting, flesh-sloughing, bone-clinging form it had after corruption, the contrast was stark.

Mo Hua studied the idol, then released his Divine Sense to search around.

Moments later, his Divine Sense stirred—he found traces of formations beneath the idol.

These traces were subtle, secretly inscribed around the statue.

And Mo Hua recognized the style.

“This is…”

Divine Dao formations.

His gaze deepened.

Someone had used Divine Dao formations to imprison the Barbarian God Shi-Gu within this idol.

Thus, in the midst of the Great Calamity, it was forced to endure corruption, falling helplessly until it became an Evil God.

“Using a Divine Dao formation to seal a Barbarian God… then employing polluted methods to drive it into corruption…”

Mo Hua’s expression grew solemn.

This was clearly the work of human hands.

And such methods were not something ordinary people could accomplish. Especially the Divine Dao formation and the process of an Evil God’s fall—these touched upon profound Divine Dao knowledge.

“Who exactly… is behind this?”

His first thought was his Martial Uncle, but he quickly dismissed it.

If his Martial Uncle had acted, it would never have been in such a gentle fashion.

Mo Hua frowned deeply. There were still many suspicious points.

Countless conspiracies lurked beneath the surface, beyond his grasp for now.

He could only take out a jade slip, copy down the Divine Dao array patterns, and then depart.

Outside the hall, the Evil God was dead, and its will was fading—but remnants of evil thoughts still drifted in the air.

And the mist of famine was only growing thicker.

Even the Profound-Earth Reconstitution Absolute Formation he had drawn earlier was being eroded again by the suffocating aura of famine.

The Sacred Patterns Path grew dim.

Some array lines would need repairing soon.

“I must leave quickly…”

Mo Hua glanced back at the Barbarian God Hall of the Shi-Gu Tribe, then turned away, beginning the journey back.

…

Outside the valley, the atmosphere was taut with tension.

Though throughout the entire battle they had seen nothing—no trace of combat, no flashes within the mist—the pressure upon their Divine Sense was overwhelming, enough to chill their souls.

It was as if reality and illusion had blurred together.

In that unseen world, a heaven-shaking, ghost-weeping battle was raging.

Shi-Gu’s corpse had gone utterly berserk.

As though infected by the Evil God, it seethed with rage, unwillingness, and terror, thrashing violently. The heavy Shugu Chains binding it even began to crack.

Everyone paled in shock.

With Lord Shaman absent, none could suppress Shi-Gu with a mere glance.

If it broke free under the sway of evil thoughts, with its undying body… the massacre would be unimaginable.

They had no choice but to suppress it with all their might.

Over twenty Golden Cores unleashed their power, using brute strength and treasures to pin Shi-Gu down.

The other barbarian warriors formed ranks, bracing for a possible outbreak.

The atmosphere grew more and more strained.

And just as Shi-Gu’s frenzy peaked, with the suppression on the verge of collapse—

From the depths of the mist, a surge of Divine Sense erupted.

It was as though someone had unleashed a blade of thought sharp enough to annihilate the Divine Sense of every cultivator present.

Its true power should have been beyond their perception.

But with the Evil God’s descent and the terror of impending death, illusion and reality merged for an instant.

The wave of Divine Sense overflowed into the real world.

Mo Hua’s God-Slaying Sword, drawn with all his immense will, made even Golden Core cultivators in the present reality feel the dread of a single strike that could annihilate even an Evil God’s soul.

It was a power that made all living beings tremble.

It was truly—divine power.

All present turned pale, their hearts quaking.

After that single strike—silence.

All sounds from within the mist ceased.

Even Shi-Gu’s corpse seemed to lose its “soul,” sinking slowly to its knees.

The crowd was so tense they nearly forgot to breathe.

“Is it over?”

“What happened?”

“Did Lord Shaman… win?”

Every gaze was fixed on the valley.

The silence was so deep one could hear a pin drop.

They waited.

No one knew how long had passed—when at last, from the depths of the fog, ripples spread. The mist churned, and a figure emerged.

Thin and frail, not tall.

Yet at this moment, in everyone’s eyes, this solitary figure walking through the evil mist was terrifyingly powerful.

Soon, Sacred Patterns bloomed on the ground.

The vile miasma split aside.

Mo Hua stepped slowly out of the mist. Though his face was pale, his eyes were calm, his expression serene. His robes were spotless, not even brushed by dust.

Amid the crowd’s rapt attention, Mo Hua lifted his head, met their hopeful gazes, and said slowly:

“The Divine-Lord is eternal. Bestowing me His power, the heresy has been vanquished.”

“The fallen clansmen… may now rest in peace.”

His words carried sorrow, gentle and soft, yet filled with unwavering conviction.

The hearts of all were stirred, infused with reverence. One by one, they sank to their knees, chanting devoutly:

“Lord Shaman, wise and mighty!”

“The Divine-Lord is eternal, may He protect our Great Wilderness!”

Their voices boomed through forest and mountain, shaking hearts.

Dan-Zhu and the others bowed to Mo Hua.

Even the Golden Cores of the Shugu Tribe could not help but bow in respect.

From then on, Mo Hua’s prestige grew yet further—the name of Shaman rooted deep in every heart.

Only Lu-Gu stood unmoving, his expression shaken.

…

After the storm settled, Mo Hua arranged the aftermath.

The entrance to the Shi-Gu Tribe’s valley was sealed by Mo Hua’s order with boulders. He even carved some arrays on them, preventing anyone from entering.

Though the evil god was dead—and eaten—the lingering remnants of its will could still become “seeds” that might drag people’s hearts into corruption.

If an ordinary cultivator were tainted, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Moreover, within the Shi-Gu Tribe still lay hidden schemes unknown; Mo Hua planned to return in the future to investigate again.

When the time came, he would search the tribe thoroughly, in case of further discoveries.

But for now, with evil thoughts lingering and famine qi spreading, the conditions would not allow it, and Mo Hua could only give up temporarily.

Beyond this, there was the matter of burial.

The dead tribesmen of the Shi-Gu Tribe could not be buried in earth—they had to be burned.

Among most tribes of the Great Wilderness, cremation was reserved for criminals or lowly slave-castes: their corpses burned by fierce fire to purify their sins.

Cremation was considered a desecration.

But the people of the Shi-Gu Tribe could only be cremated.

They had eaten humans, been polluted by the evil god, and even resurrected after death.

Though the evil god was now slain and its source cut off, Mo Hua was uncertain what problems might arise if their bodies were buried in earth.

Thus, burning them was the only way.

The others, especially clansmen of the Shugu Tribe, felt uneasy, but there was no alternative.

And since Mo Hua declared that these people had already received the salvation of the Divine-Lord, once they were cremated, the Divine-Lord would forgive them—no one objected further.

Thus, the corpse-like clansmen of the Shi-Gu Tribe were gathered and burned, and a large stele was erected to commemorate them.

Yet when it came to cremating Shi-Gu himself, problems arose.

First, Shi-Gu had been a late Golden Core cultivator in life; his body was incredibly tough. Ordinary barbarian flames could not burn him.

Even if it could, it would take forty-nine days of burning.

Second, Lu-Gu flatly refused to allow his elder brother Shi-Gu to be cremated.

He didn’t care about the other tribesmen, but Shi-Gu was different.

“This is my brother, the great general of our Shugu Tribe! Burning his body is an insult I will never allow!”

Lu-Gu’s stance was unyielding.

Chi-Feng tried to persuade him, but failed.

The others dared not speak.

Lu-Gu, a late Golden Core general, held the greatest power, the highest realm, and the strongest strength among them. No one dared to truly defy him.

Yet, having witnessed Shi-Gu’s “resurrection,” no one dared risk burying him again.

Thus, this matter could only fall to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua entered Lu-Gu’s tent.

It was late at night. Lu-Gu had laid his brother’s corpse at his side, standing guard through the night, allowing no one near.

First, out of fear the corpse might change again.

Second, to prevent anyone—especially those of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe—from following Mo Hua’s order and forcing the cremation.

When Mo Hua, escorted by Chi-Feng, entered the tent, Lu-Gu’s cold gaze immediately fixed on him.

“Lord Shaman, do you still intend to burn my brother’s corpse?” he asked evenly.

Since that day, when Mo Hua paved a holy path of runes, entered the evil mists alone, and slew the heresy by borrowing the Divine-Lord’s power, Lu-Gu’s attitude had become far more respectful.

Though Mo Hua’s “nature” was still unclear—god’s emissary or demon—respect for strength was a barbarian tradition.

Lu-Gu had begun to view him as an equal, even with a trace of reluctant reverence.

Mo Hua’s purpose was simple: to persuade Lu-Gu to personally burn Shi-Gu’s corpse.

So that dust would return to dust, earth to earth, and all cause and effect be ended.

No one else could burn it.

First, Lu-Gu would not allow it.

Second, only he, as a late Golden Core, could summon core flames strong enough to reduce Shi-Gu swiftly to ashes.

But clearly, Lu-Gu was obstinate, firm in refusal—not one to be moved by a few words.

Mo Hua glanced at Lu-Gu, then at the chained corpse kneeling half-upright beside him—massive, ferocious, like an asura ghost radiating oppressive might.

His mind stirred.

Mo Hua’s eyes flickered. “It doesn’t have to be burned.”

Lu-Gu froze. “Not burned?”

Mo Hua nodded. “Since you don’t wish it, then it need not be. But earth-burial is unsafe…”

Lu-Gu frowned. “Then…?”

“Bring him with you,” Mo Hua said.

Lu-Gu was stunned.

For him, this was the best outcome, so good it was almost unbelievable.

“Truly?” he asked for confirmation.

In other matters, he wouldn’t seek Mo Hua’s approval.

But regarding the heretic “resurrection” of Shi-Gu, he had to respect the Shaman’s words.

Mo Hua nodded, but added, “However, there’s something I must make clear beforehand…”

He paused, then said slowly:

“If Shi-Gu’s body is burned now, all cause and effect will end, and he will truly rest in peace.”

“But if not burned, then a thread of karma remains. Whether that karma is good or evil, what your brother may become later—no one can say.”

“I do not exaggerate. Consider carefully. Burn… or keep?”

Though his tone was calm, the gravity in Mo Hua’s voice was heavy.

Lu-Gu felt a strange weight upon his chest, as though fate itself had placed this choice before him.

After a moment’s thought, he answered firmly: “My brother’s body cannot be burned. I will take him with me.”

Mo Hua sighed inwardly and nodded. “Very well.”

He said nothing more, then turned and left.

The next day, Mo Hua ordered a coffin of fresh-cut wood, large enough to hold Shi-Gu’s massive corpse.

He inscribed arrays upon it—these arrays could not prevent Shi-Gu from turning into a corpse-fiend, but to preserve the body, seal its qi, and prevent others from probing it with divine sense.

Thus, the matter of the Shi-Gu Tribe came to a temporary close.

Thereafter, the company set out once more.

Famine raged, corpses littered the land, and the future was uncertain. They could not go to the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, and the Shi-Gu Tribe was annihilated. For now, they knew not where to go.

But they could not remain here.

Mo Hua surveyed the surroundings, calculated with his fingers, and chose a direction without ominous signs.

“Let’s go,” he said.

The troop of barbarians marched forth again—this time bearing a massive coffin, within which lay the preserved body of a barbarian general, a late Golden Core powerhouse.

…

After traveling for two days, they reached a desolate forest where the group temporarily stopped to rest.

Mo Hua finally had a moment of leisure.

He sought out a quiet place, sealed the surroundings with formations, and then sank his divine sense into his sea of consciousness—preparing at last to begin devouring the evil god of the Shi-Gu Tribe, in order to strengthen his own divine sense…

(End of this Chapter)