Chapter 1233: Planting a Demon?

Chapter 1232: Planting a Demon?

From then on, Mo Hua continued his campaign of “devouring and annexation.”

Whether by military might, personal Shamanic authority, or outright threats of “extermination,” he absorbed every small tribe along his path.

Thanks to the deduction of the Hua Family Ancestor, Mo Hua now held a map marking the final lands of the Great Wilderness.

But a map—was only a map.

With the tribes in turmoil and the world plunged into chaos, no one knew what was truly happening across the far corners of the Great Wilderness.

The map before him was shrouded in fog.

What Mo Hua had to do was to explore it piece by piece—lifting the mist as he went, subduing and annexing every tribe he found along the way, strengthening his power step by step.

His current forces were not weak.

But Mo Hua knew well—before the true enemies and the true tribulations that awaited, his army was still far from enough.

He had to seize more “pieces on the board” before the real storm arrived, growing stronger as much as possible.

After another month of “annexation,” Mo Hua’s power expanded even further.

The surrounding small factions had nearly all been “devoured.”

Mo Hua now commanded over eleven thousand soldiers.

But the total headcount of his forces reached twenty-five thousand.

Because tribes were not just warriors—they also had ordinary barbarian cultivators.

Mo Hua couldn’t simply conscript the fighters and abandon the rest, so the elderly, the weak, the women, and the children were all absorbed as well.

His entire force became somewhat bloated.

Mo Hua planned to later claim a territory, establish a temporary settlement, and place the noncombatants there—to cultivate, produce, and supply the front lines.

Only then could his barbarian soldiers fight without hesitation.

Moreover, if the rear was safe—if the soldiers’ families were alive—then the warriors at the front would have something to fight for, a reason to be brave.

A person must first have a home, and kin, before they can truly have the will to protect their clan.

Otherwise, this army he gathered would merely be mercenaries—with no reason to fight, and who would collapse at the first sign of defeat.

Mo Hua’s ambition was vast.

He sought to prove his Dao—and to carve out a sliver of hope for all living beings of the Great Wilderness.

For such a goal, strength alone was not enough.

He needed land—an organized base of cultivation and production, resources to accumulate, industries to grow.

Only then could he sustain the people, support the wars, and allow life to continue—an unending cycle, the way of endurance.

Of course, such things had to be done step by step.

For now, he was still the small fish eating shrimp, slowly turning himself into a big fish.

Having devoured all the small tribes nearby, Mo Hua next set his sights on a few weaker mid-sized ones.

The first of these he encountered was called the “Chasing Cloud Tribe.”

That tribe had a Golden Core chieftain, a Golden Core elder, and a thousand barbarian soldiers—a decent force overall.

With Mo Hua’s army, taking the Chasing Cloud Tribe by force would be simple. But the problem was—their chieftain refused to submit.

He had no respect for this young so-called “Lord Shaman.”

Mo Hua could not simply slaughter them all. In fact, he didn’t even wish to use open force against the Chasing Cloud Tribe.

Because of those two words—“Chasing Cloud.”

Chasing Cloud was the name of a breed of barbarian horses.

And this tribe had, for generations, served greater tribes as horse breeders, even offering their finest steeds as tribute to the Royal Court.

Thus, though their own strength was modest, their unique craft earned them favor and protection from many powers.

Even tribes with strong cultivators but lacking noble bloodlines found it difficult to earn the Chasing Cloud Tribe’s recognition—let alone Mo Hua, a wandering shaman.

Moreover, their chieftain was arrogant, ill-tempered, and utterly lacking in discernment—unable to perceive Mo Hua’s extraordinary bearing or the divine aura that cloaked him.

He dismissed Mo Hua as a fraud—a swaggering brat and a charlatan.

He was so used to arrogance that even powerful figures like Lu-Gu and other late-stage Golden Core cultivators were beneath his notice.

Apparently, having once raised horses for nobles, he fancied himself noble as well.

And in truth—he wasn’t entirely without reason to think so.

If not for the great famine that shattered the territories and threw the entire Great Wilderness into chaos, the Chasing Cloud Tribe would never have fallen to such a place.

Mo Hua valued talent—and he hesitated to kill them.

Horse-breeding was no easy craft, and the Chasing Cloud Tribe’s expertise was genuinely useful to him.

He had captured over a hundred and fifty barbarian horses from the Wujiao Tribe and had no one capable of caring for them.

And in the future, when his power grew even greater—when he seized stronger barbarian steeds, demonic horses, or even beast-mounts capable of serving as steeds—he would need people trained for that task.

In times like these, a tribe specializing in horse breeding was either seized by others or wiped out by famine.

Every one of them was precious; to lose one was to lose a treasure.

If he missed this chance, finding another horse-breeding tribe on this fog-shrouded map would be nearly impossible.

So Mo Hua avoided brute force and instead approached the chieftain with patience and courtesy, negotiating sincerely.

Yet his humility only made the chieftain despise him further—convinced Mo Hua was a fake shaman, mocking him and scorning his offer of alliance.

Mo Hua’s patience began to wear thin.

He investigated the man’s background and found the chieftain to be violent, ill-tempered, and corrupt.

Within the tribe, as both chieftain and Golden Core cultivator, his authority was absolute.

He wielded a whip-like artifact—if a horse disobeyed, he lashed it mercilessly.

He treated people no differently. Anyone who angered him, kin or not, would be whipped like an animal.

Sometimes, when drunk, he even beat his clansmen to death.

No one in the tribe dared oppose him.

Mo Hua felt killing intent stir—but paused.

However vile, the man was still their chieftain—their leader.

For Mo Hua, an outsider, to slay him would be to meddle in internal affairs.

Even if he killed a tyrant, the tribe might not thank him.

In most cases, Mo Hua wouldn’t have cared.

But the Chasing Cloud Tribe was different. He needed them to truly surrender.

Mo Hua furrowed his brow, sighing softly.

“What a pity… I can’t use the Dao-Heart Demon Seed…”

He couldn’t use it recklessly—or on a large scale. Otherwise, he could simply plant the Dao-Heart Demon Seed and make them submit at once.

That chieftain, guilty as he was, could easily be dominated through Divine-Sense control.

But the Dao-Heart Demon Seed was his Martial Uncle’s unique secret art.

And with his Martial Uncle’s sword still hanging above his head, using that technique without permission could easily bring disaster upon him again.

Once bitten by a snake, he would fear even a coiled rope.

After suffering under his Martial Uncle’s hand before, Mo Hua had learned to stay cautious.

“To use the Dao-Heart Demon Seed to manipulate another’s Divine-Sense…”

As the thought trailed off, Mo Hua froze—realizing something.

“Why do I always instinctively think of learning from my Martial Uncle… of controlling others?”

“If I keep doing that… aren’t I walking his very path?”

“Wouldn’t I eventually… become just like him?”

Temporarily following his Martial Uncle’s path was one thing—his uncle’s mastery of the Divine-Consciousness Dao was far above his own, after all.

But if he kept walking it forever… wouldn’t he become the next Strange Daoist?

Before his uncle even assimilated him—he’d already assimilate himself.

No… that’s not right.

Mo Hua frowned deeply.

“But if I don’t use the Dao-Heart Demon Seed…”

After pondering for a long while, another thought flickered to life.

The Dao-Heart Demon Seed was a Divine-Consciousness technique—planting a demonic seed to control another’s mind, to alter their beliefs.

But…

Why must it always rely on control?

If one could instead see through the human heart, exploit its weaknesses, and persuade someone with words and insight—would that not achieve the same result?

If so, then perhaps…

He could bypass the Dao-Heart Demon Seed’s technical barrier… and reach the same end by a different path of skill.

Mo Hua’s gaze deepened.

In a sense… wasn’t this also using technique to comprehend Law?

If he understood the essence behind the Dao-Heart Demon Seed—its Divine-Consciousness principles—then discarded the formal technique and instead used his will alone to perceive and influence hearts…

The effect would surely be weaker than his Martial Uncle’s art… but it would be more natural, more subtle.

And without the trace of an obvious “technique,” it would be undetectable, impossible to guard against. Even his Martial Uncle would likely never sense it.

After some contemplation, Mo Hua’s sharp gaze turned toward the Chasing Cloud Tribe—penetrating each of their hearts.

The chieftain was out of the question: violent, stubborn, unable to reason.

The great elder—too old, eyes clouded, unreadable.

The key figures…

The eldest son—strong but cruel, unworthy.

The second—cunning and treacherous, not worth trusting.

The third son, however—the quiet one.

Often beaten and scolded by his father, he never complained, always silent.

But his eyes… his eyes were different.

Mo Hua made up his mind.

He concealed his presence and observed the third son for two days.

Finally, when the youth was alone—Mo Hua appeared silently before him, as if emerging from the air itself.

The young man had just been whipped again by his father and now sat in his room, rubbing crude herbs over the wounds across his back—like a wounded beast licking its scars alone in the dark.

Startled, he turned pale at Mo Hua’s sudden appearance.

Mo Hua glanced at his injuries and asked quietly,

“What’s your name?”

The youth hesitated, his voice hoarse:

“Chì Jū (Red Colt).”

He seemed to know who Mo Hua was. After a pause, he chose to answer honestly.

“Chì Jū…” Mo Hua raised an eyebrow. “Is that a person’s name—or a horse’s?”

The youth called Chi Ju replied softly:

“In the Chasing Cloud Tribe, people grow up with horses. People and horses are the same. What people eat, horses eat. When the horses are beaten…”

He paused and said: “People are beaten too.”

Mo Hua looked at him, eyes calm and deep as a still lake, piercing through the quiet boy’s thoughts—as though he could see through every hidden thought within the quiet boy. He asked softly,

“Do you want to be chieftain?”

Chì Jū’s expression changed instantly.

“N–No…” he stammered.

Mo Hua’s voice was quiet: “Is it that you don’t want to—or that you don’t dare to?”

Chì Jū couldn’t answer.

Mo Hua said slowly, “I want to hear the truth. Speak your truest thought. In this life, you will only have this one chance. Miss it—and there will never be another.”

Chi-Ju didn’t know what Mo Hua meant, but deep inside, a strange urgency stirred. It was as if fate had laid a path before him, waiting for him to choose.

He nodded slowly, his gaze firm. “I… want to be chieftain.”

Mo Hua nodded. “Good. I understand. The Divine-Lord will fulfill your wish and guide your path.”

Chi-Ju froze. “…Fulfill my wish?”

Mo Hua inclined his head. “Yes.”

“But…” Chi-Ju frowned in confusion. “The current chieftain… is my father.”

Mo Hua said lightly: “The Divine-Lord has His own arrangements.”

Chi-Ju still didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Mo Hua’s figure had already vanished before his eyes.

He had appeared without warning, and disappeared without a trace—like a messenger of the gods.

But… chieftain?

Chi-Ju felt a faint longing in his heart, mixed with deep confusion. He didn’t understand what it all meant.

The next day, he understood.

His father was dead.

The Grand Elder convened a council of elders and gathered the tribe, wearing a mournful expression. “The Chieftain… was struck by a sudden illness and has left us.”

The tribesmen exchanged puzzled looks. What kind of “illness” came so suddenly?

But the Grand Elder knew.

It was the kind of “illness” where a high-level cultivator snapped one’s neck in their sleep.

At the same time, the Divine-Lord’s messenger had appeared in the Grand Elder’s dreams, leaving him instructions.

The Grand Elder pointed at Chi-Ju and declared: “Before his death, the Chieftain left word that Chi-Ju shall become the new leader of the Chasing-Cloud Tribe.”

Chi-Ju stared in disbelief, wide-eyed.

His two elder brothers were furious.

The tribe members looked at one another in shock, unable to understand why the late chieftain had not passed the title to the eldest or second son, but to the youngest—the one he’d valued the least in life.

Before anyone could protest, Mo Hua entered the hall, followed by Golden Core cultivators from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and the Shugu Tribe, their presence overwhelming.

“I came to pay my respects to the Chieftain,” Mo Hua said solemnly. Then he turned, eyes sharp as blades. “Who is the next chieftain?”

His tone was mild, but the pressure was suffocating.

No one from the Chasing-Cloud Tribe dared to answer.

They all knew—the one who became chieftain now would shoulder the full weight of Mo Hua’s will.

No one wanted that burden.

Finally, the eldest son pointed at Chi-Ju and said, “Before he died, Father passed the chieftain’s seat to Chi-Ju.”

Mo Hua nodded, looking at Chi-Ju coldly. “I have words to speak with the new Chieftain.”

Amid the frightened stares of the tribe, the new “Chieftain” Chi-Ju was taken aside by Mo Hua.

Chi-Ju looked at him, trembling. “You—you—”

Mo Hua said calmly, “I told you—the Divine-Lord will fulfill your wish.”

Chi-Ju was speechless. “But… my father—”

Mo Hua replied: “Your father died of natural causes. All of this is by the Divine-Lord’s guidance.”

Chi-Ju’s heart shook violently.

Mo Hua asked: “Didn’t you say you wanted to be chieftain?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?” Mo Hua’s eyes gleamed faintly. “Why do you want to be chieftain?”

Chi-Ju struggled for words.

Mo Hua gazed into his eyes and said: “You don’t want your people to suffer your father’s cruelty any longer. You don’t want the tribe’s horses beaten and broken. In this famine, you want your tribe to survive—to grow strong. All things your father could not do. His brutality would only bring ruin to the tribe.”

Chi-Ju’s heart was laid bare, his hidden thoughts brought to light.

“Kneel” Mo Hua said.

Startled, Chi-Ju instinctively obeyed.

Mo Hua placed his hand upon the boy’s forehead, his tone gentle. “Your thoughts are right.”

“Your father would have destroyed the tribe.”

“But you… you will let the Chasing-Cloud Tribe survive this age of chaos.”

“Strengthen your faith. Shoulder your duty. Devote yourself to your people.”

Chi-Ju’s eyes grew resolute, though a trace of doubt lingered. “But… am I truly worthy to be chieftain?”

Mo Hua replied, “If you were unworthy, the Divine-Lord would not have chosen you.”

“The Divine-Lord chose you—because you have the capacity.”

“All you must do is follow His guidance. In your confusion, conquer your hesitation and weakness. Lead your tribe forward with unwavering resolve.”

Mo Hua’s voice was calm and steady.

Chi-Ju’s expression changed—faith and devotion beginning to bloom on his face.

He knelt and kowtowed three times before Mo Hua.

“Chi-Ju understands. Thank you, Lord Shaman, for your guidance. I will do all I can to be a worthy chieftain and not betray the Divine-Lord’s trust.”

Mo Hua nodded, his gaze filled with quiet satisfaction.

By the time he left the Chasing-Cloud Tribe, everything was settled.

Though the affair had been strange—eerily bloodless—it was still a coup. And just like that, the Chasing-Cloud Tribe became one of Mo Hua’s followers.

The common tribesmen, ignorant of the details, simply began raising horses for Mo Hua.

They were ordinary barbarian cultivators—no need for them to know anything more, as long as they could live in peace.

And Mo Hua, through this, gained deeper insight into the mysteries of Spiritual-Consciousness:

[TN: Divine-Sense (神识) and Spiritual-Consciousness (神念 )]

The Dao-Heart Demon-Seeding was a demonic art that imposed one’s will upon another’s mind.

But his own method was different—he drew out what already existed in the heart, awakening desires that aligned with his purpose.

Not planting the seed from the outside—but guiding it from within.

Not an external planting—but an inner awakening.

Using his Martial Uncle’s Dao as the foundation, yet walking his own path.

It was another form—an entirely opposite one in nature—of Dao-Heart Demon-Seed.

(End of this Chapter)