Chapter 1245: Achievements After Death
Chapter 1244: Achievements After Death
Outside the White Bone Mausoleum.
The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe was locked in fierce combat with the Shugu Tribe.
Chi Feng, Dan-Zhu, and the other heavy-armored warriors of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe were clashing with the Four Shugu Freaks and the barbarian soldiers led by the Shugu Tribe’s Golden Core cultivators.
Lu-Gu did not act. He merely stood to the side, watching coldly.
His goal was simple—to make the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe submit.
Now that he had slain the Great Chieftain, used Tie Shù-Gu’s life to awaken the ancestors, and even cursed Mo Hua to death, all that remained was to subdue the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, and his purpose would be achieved.
Dan-Zhu, Chi Feng, Can-Gu, the Great Chieftain, even that demonic Shaman—all had become stepping stones for his ambition.
What Lu-Gu had done was merely go with the flow and become the one to “pluck the fruit.”
Now that the dust was about to settle, he would soon complete the unification of the Shugu Tribe and even subdue a portion of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s forces.
Yet, Lu-Gu had never intended to truly kill Dan-Zhu and the others.
He genuinely admired Dan-Zhu’s talent and heart.
Dan-Zhu was like a flawless jade—possessing qualities that even the so-called “geniuses” among the barbarian tribes lacked: kindness, integrity, and a pure spirit that burned like a Vermilion Bird’s flame.
That demonic Shaman had earnestly guided him, treating him as a disciple.
Even Lu-Gu could not bring himself to kill such a kind-hearted person.
He planned to wound Chi Feng, encircle the Vermilion Sparrow warriors, and use them to force Dan-Zhu’s surrender—to make him yield and serve. Dan-Zhu’s compassion was his greatest weakness.
So long as he held the lives of those close to Dan-Zhu, he would force his submission.
Even if Dan-Zhu only yielded outwardly, it didn’t matter. With time, he would tame him. One day, Dan-Zhu would become his arm and blade.
Dan-Zhu, however, was already surrounded by waves of Shugu barbarians, struggling in bitter combat.
The Mystic-Flame Feather Robe upon his body still burned with dazzling brilliance, yet his handsome face was pale as paper, and a trace of blood glimmered at his lips.
Seeing Dan-Zhu’s strength waning, Lu-Gu’s deep voice rumbled:
“Dan-Zhu, submit to me.”
Dan-Zhu sneered coldly. “You schemed against my teacher. Sooner or later, I will kill you.”
Lu-Gu’s expression chilled. “Your so-called teacher is a demon, not even human.”
Dan-Zhu shook his head. “Teacher is teacher.”
A flicker of murderous intent flashed across Lu-Gu’s eyes. “Stubborn fool.”
Losing patience, he drew his enormous Demon-Slaying Bone Blade, intending to defeat Dan-Zhu himself, imprison him, and slowly break him into obedience.
But just then, from the depths of the White Bone Mausoleum, an eerie aura surged forth—cold, solemn, spreading through the great hall.
Everyone froze, turning toward it.
From the top of the mausoleum, it was as though countless white-bone flowers bloomed—thousands of skeletal claws sprouting outward, both beautiful and terrifying. The power of an unfathomable death-curse of karmic retribution filled the air, shaking every heart present.
“Is this… the ancestors’ wrath?”
“The curse… it’s spreading?”
The Shugu tribesmen turned pale. They did not understand the Dao of Causality, yet from the tribal scriptures they knew this was the ancestors’ “curse-killing” technique.
To be seized by those bone hands—none doubted what fate that meant.
The ancestors’ grace was eternal; their fury was equally dreadful.
As both sides hesitated, someone suddenly cried out in shock, pointing toward the depths of the tomb:
“Is that… a person?!”
All turned to look—and from amidst the field of white bones, a figure slowly emerged.
It was as if a holy being had walked out of death itself.
“Has the ancestor… awakened?”
They nearly fell to their knees in reverence—until doubt crept in.
The figure was far too small, too thin… not like their ancestor at all, but rather…
They stared in disbelief.
Gradually, the silhouette became clear: a slender but resolute frame, pale face, eyes deep and radiant.
The Shugu tribesmen’s faces changed wildly.
Dan-Zhu and the Vermilion Sparrow warriors, however, were overjoyed.
“Teacher!”
“Lord Shaman!”
“Lord Shaman is alive!”
As their cries echoed, the Shugu tribesmen stood stunned, shaken to their core.
“The ancestral curse-killing… couldn’t kill him?! Could it be…”
Mo Hua’s gaze was firm as he stepped from the mausoleum.
Each bone hand beneath him bloomed like a flower, supporting his feet as he walked forward—borne aloft by the blossoms of death.
Moving freely within the mausoleum, the flowers of curse followed his steps.
Before the assembled tribes, Mo Hua spoke slowly:
“I have spoken with your ancestors…”
His tone was solemn and calm.
“From this day forth, every descendant of the Shugu Tribe shall revere the Divine-Lord’s name and heed my command. Any who defy this decree shall, in death, be denied the right to face their ancestors.”
His words struck like thunder.
Shock, fear, awe, anger—all rippled through the crowd.
Just as someone was about to shout that Mo Hua blasphemed their Ancestors.
A cold creak split the silence.
Everyone turned and looked at the corpse of Tie Shù-Gu, who had died earlier, trembling.
With a grotesque motion, he pulled the sacrificial dagger from his chest.
His chest was dark, without a drop of blood.
But his pale face slowly regained life, carrying faint bewilderment, like a soul returned from the underworld.
Then, before all eyes, the “revived” Tie Shù-Gu limped toward Mo Hua, knelt solemnly, and said with deep reverence:
“Sinner Tie Shù-Gu thanks Lord Shaman for granting me life. By the ancestors’ command, I vow eternal loyalty to Lord Shaman, to brave fire and flood without regret. I beg Lord Shaman to save the Shugu Tribe from famine and calamity, and preserve our bloodline…”
His voice was calm, reverent, devout.
The sight and his words sent waves of disbelief through the tribe.
The man who had sacrificed himself… was alive again?!
Had Lord Shaman wrested his soul back from the ancestors themselves?
Had the ancestors commanded Tie Shù-Gu to serve Lord Shaman—and entrusted Mo Hua with saving the tribe?!
Had this happened elsewhere, they might doubt—but here, in the ancestral tomb itself…
Mo Hua had walked forth from the grave of their ancestors, from the very edge of life and death.
The white bones still bloomed vividly before their eyes.
Shock filled every face.
Then, one by one, Shugu warriors dropped to their knees.
“Lord Shaman is divine and wise!”
“Save us from disaster, Lord Shaman!”
Faith, like a spark, spread through their hearts—until it became a blazing fire.
More and more tribesmen knelt, like falling dominoes, crying out together:
“Lord Shaman is divine and wise!”
“Save us from disaster!”
Their voices rose like crashing waves, shaking the White Bone Mausoleum itself.
Soon, even the armored elites and Golden Core warriors could not resist; one after another, they knelt—overwhelmed by awe and devotion.
In the end, all knelt upon the ground, crying out in unison: “Lord Shaman, wise and holy!”
All except one man—Lu-Gu.
He stood alone, the towering general, soon-to-be Great Chieftain…
But his followers, his soldiers, his clansmen—all bowed to Mo Hua.
Before the sacred and solemn Shaman, Lu-Gu’s mighty form seemed small, lonely.
The will of the people, the reverence of the tribe, the decree of the ancestors…
Lu-Gu’s expression began to contort, his heart twisting like being cut by knives.
All crushed against his pride like grinding blades.
At last, the weight of destiny crushed his pride.
Lu-Gu drew a deep, bitter breath and sank to one knee before Mo Hua.
Thus, within the White Bone Mausoleum, under the witnessing gaze of their ancestral spirits, everyone—from great generals to barbarian soldiers, from late-stage Golden Core cultivators to ordinary Foundation Establishment warriors—all knelt before the sacred and solemn “Lord Shaman,” Mo Hua.
Lu-Gu knelt, but his heart had not truly submitted.
Mo Hua knew this and said nothing.
After that day, Lu-Gu never again sought Mo Hua.
Until three days later, at dawn.
Having practiced formations through the night, Mo Hua had just opened his eyes when he saw a massive figure standing outside his hut—it was, unsurprisingly, Lu-Gu.
“Come in,” Mo Hua said.
With Mo Hua’s permission, Lu-Gu entered. His expression was much more respectful than before, yet his body carried a subtle wariness—the kind one held before a “powerful superior.”
Standing before Mo Hua, Lu-Gu said nothing.
Mo Hua looked up at him lightly and said, “Your ancestor visited you in a dream?”
Lu-Gu’s expression shifted slightly, and he replied slowly, “Yes…”
He had wanted to ask how Mo Hua had bewitched his ancestor.
But on second thought—it seemed impossible.
His ancestors possessed ancient inheritances and boundless divine power. How could they possibly be deceived by a “demon”?
If this “demon” truly had the power to bewitch the ancestors of the Shugu Tribe, then perhaps this “demon” was not a fiend at all but a true Divine-Lord Shaman, one walking the mortal lands of the Great Wilderness.
This thought arose instinctively in Lu-Gu’s heart, yet his pride refused to accept it.
Stubbornly, he still believed that the white-faced, black-hearted Mo Hua was nothing more than an evil demon, and could not possibly have the slightest connection with the great Divine-Lord. Especially when, Lu-Gu thought of the towering, eerie corpse behind Mo Hua—his brother, who even in death knew no peace. His face darkened like storm clouds.
Mo Hua seemed to see through his thoughts and asked softly, “You’re still holding a grudge over your brother’s matter, aren’t you?”
Lu-Gu stayed silent, but the blazing hatred in his eyes said everything.
Mo Hua asked indifferently, “Would you be satisfied if your brother were buried beneath the earth?”
Lu-Gu said coldly, “Let the dead rest. At least he would not be disturbed, nor turned into a ‘puppet’ to be controlled.”
Mo Hua asked again: “And then what?”
Lu-Gu frowned. “What do you mean, ‘then what’?”
Mo Hua’s tone was calm, almost emotionless.
“To rest in peace… what of it? To be undisturbed—what of it? Was your brother an ordinary man? Was it peace he sought in death?”
Lu-Gu froze.
Mo Hua continued: “Let me ask you this… if your brother simply died, buried in the earth, his body decaying, his deeds sealed in his coffin, how would the people of the Great Wilderness remember him?”
Lu-Gu was momentarily stunned.
Mo Hua’s voice turned cold.
“They would remember him as a failure—a mediocre commander, a general who accomplished nothing, a fool with cultivation but no wisdom, brought down by schemes and conspiracies.”
“Silence!” Lu-Gu roared, his eyes bloodshot, like a furious beast staring down its enemy.
Mo Hua’s expression remained calm, unmoved by Lu-Gu’s fury. He said evenly:
“You can rage, you can shout.. but what difference does it make?”
“Public opinion cannot be silenced; truth needs no defense. Your brother’s legacy—such as it is—will be seen as failure. His name still carries weight today, but in ten years, it will fade. In a hundred years, it will vanish into dust, forgotten by all.”
“That is the ‘peace after death’ you speak of… Peace that means obscurity.”
Mo Hua’s gaze was steady.
The anger faded from Lu-Gu’s face, replaced by pain—the sorrow of a hero doomed to be forgotten.
After a long silence, Mo Hua said quietly:
“However… since his corpse is now in my hands, things can be different…”
Lu-Gu froze, raising his head to look at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua’s tone was calm, tinged with an icy edge.
“In time, I will beseech the Divine-Lord to grant your brother a fateful opportunity. Though he is dead, he can ‘live’ again. In another form, he will once again wage war across the lands.”
“His body will still walk the soil of the Great Wilderness.”
“His flesh shall crush the enemies of the Divine-Lord.”
“Even in death, as a mere corpse, he can still achieve glory—he can still carve immortal merit across the world, his name remembered for eternity.”
“He will expand the Divine-Lord’s dominion, uniting the Great Wilderness.”
“For all eternity, through countless generations, the entire barbarian realm shall praise your brother’s name.”
“If it were you… what would you choose?”
Mo Hua’s words struck like thunder.
Waves surged in Lu-Gu’s heart, his chest burning with fiery fervor.
“Even in death—to achieve merit, to achieve glory, to fulfill the grand feat he never completed in life…”
That thought echoed endlessly in his ears.
Suppressing his surging emotion, Lu-Gu sank to one knee before Mo Hua once more… this time, in true sincerity.
He no longer resented what Mo Hua had done to his brother. On the contrary, his heart brimmed with gratitude.
“Thank you… Lord Shaman…”
“From this day forth, Lu-Gu and the entire Shugu Tribe shall fight for Lord Shaman with all our might. Even if it means shattering our bones and perishing, we will not hesitate!”
Mo Hua looked at Lu-Gu kneeling before him, oath sworn from the depths of his soul. His gaze deepened, and he slowly nodded.
(End of this Chapter)