Chapter 1250: Reunion of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe

Chapter 1249: Reunion of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe

The battle with the Wujiao Tribe ended in tragic losses—nearly ten thousand barbarian warriors were slain, and fifty thousand barbarian slaves perished.

Although the Wujiao Tribe also lost about fifteen thousand elite troops—an equally devastating toll—Mo Hua found no joy in such a “victory.”

A pyrrhic victory, even if won, was no different from a defeat.

At the same time, the problem of the Wujiao Tribe now stood squarely before them.

For the foreseeable future, they would be the most formidable enemy across the entire Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm.

War with the Wujiao Tribe was inevitable.

And now, after this bloody encounter that had cost both sides dearly, a blood feud had been forged—one that could end only when one side was utterly annihilated.

Elder You, the Hua Clan, and even the Hua Clan Ancestor—these were the hidden hands behind the scenes.

The Wujiao Tribe, with its vast armies and overwhelming strength, was the enemy in the open.

Both enemies had to be dealt with.

In the days that followed, Mo Hua secluded himself in deep contemplation, ceaselessly analyzing the overall situation within the Great Wilderness and formulating countermeasures.

During that period, the Shugu Tribe also faced numerous skirmishes and small conflicts.

The entire situation was chaotic—countless causes and effects intertwined into a tangled web of karma.

Mo Hua not only needed to grasp the grand picture but also had to personally deduce minor details, lest some hidden karmic trigger buried within them shift the tide of fate.

A single overlooked detail could lead to catastrophic consequences.

Thus, his mind labored tirelessly, his thoughts spinning ceaselessly.

His Divine-Sense often fluctuated between exhaustion and recovery, trapped in a long, grueling cycle of depletion and renewal.

Yet this very strain tempered his Divine-Sense.

Through constant contemplation—of people, war, fate, and the logic interwoven among all things—his immense Divine-Sense grew deeper, heavier, and subtly imbued with the faint resonance of Causal law itself.

It was a gradual, imperceptible transformation—one even Mo Hua himself barely noticed.

Amid this turmoil and exhaustion, several days later, another incident occurred.

A squad of elite barbarian soldiers launched a nighttime assault against the Shugu Tribe. After a fierce skirmish, their leader was captured by the Four Freaks of the Shugu Tribe and brought before Lu-Gu.

The barbarian general was defiant—he cursed Lu-Gu loudly, listing the Shugu Tribe’s supposed crimes with scornful contempt.

But midway through his tirade, he froze.

For standing beside Lu-Gu was a young man—handsome, otherworldly, with vermilion-red eyes.

“Y–Young Chieftain…?” the barbarian general stammered in disbelief.

Dan-Zhu was equally taken aback. He scrutinized the bloodstained warrior kneeling below… then recognition dawned.

“…Chì-Yán?”

That was the barbarian’s name—Chì-Yán—once a personal guard of the Great Chieftain’s lineage of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

Everyone present was stunned. They finally realized that the ones who had launched the attack were not from the Wujiao Tribe… but from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

And the prisoner they had caught… was a Vermilion Sparrow general.

Chì-Yán knelt in chains before them.

Dan-Zhu quickly ordered his release.

Once freed, Chì-Yán glanced at Dan-Zhu, then at Lu-Gu, and finally swept his gaze around the gathered Golden Core cultivators of the Shugu Tribe. His expression was complex—conflicted—but he said nothing.

Mo Hua learned of the incident afterward.

When Dan-Zhu told him, his emotions were tangled.. joy, confusion, and unease all mixed together.

Mo Hua asked: “You know Chì-Yán well?”

Dan-Zhu shook his head slightly. “He served under my father. He’s seen me many times, but we weren’t particularly close. He was more familiar with Lord Chì-Feng.”

Mo Hua nodded. “You spoke with him?”

Dan-Zhu nodded again.

Mo Hua paused, then asked, “He must have asked why you’re with the Shugu Tribe now, didn’t he?”

Dan-Zhu blinked in surprise, then nodded once more. “Yes. He couldn’t understand, and he was… very angry.”

After all, back then, it was the Shugu Tribe who had slain the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s clansmen. Dan-Zhu had once led troops, by order of his Great Chieftain father, to avenge that blood debt.

But fate had shifted—famine, chaos, and countless misfortunes had followed.

Now, the young chieftain of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe stood side by side with the Shugu Tribe’s current Great Chieftain, Lu-Gu.

How could Chì-Yán not be shaken… or even resentful?

On the surface, it looked as if Dan-Zhu had failed to slay the enemy, and instead defected to them.

For most, that might be overlooked. But Dan-Zhu was the tribe’s young chieftain—betrayal from him was unthinkable.

Even though Chì-Yán said nothing, his disappointment and distrust were written all over his face.

Being looked at that way—with suspicion and sorrow—left Dan-Zhu deeply unsettled. He didn’t even know how to begin explaining himself.

Mo Hua was silent for a moment, then said slowly:

“Chì-Yán serves the Great Chieftain. If he’s here leading a stealth raid, it likely means… the main forces of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe—including your father—are nearby.”

Dan-Zhu’s eyes lit up with sudden joy, though mingled with surprise—he hadn’t expected to encounter his father again.

Mo Hua asked, “You didn’t ask him directly?”

“I did,” Dan-Zhu said, frowning. “But he told me he’d been separated from the main force, wandering the wilds and struggling to survive. When he saw the Shugu Tribe here, he attacked to seize food.”

Mo Hua shook his head. “He lied.”

“A squad of twenty men wouldn’t dare raid the Shugu Tribe’s main camp, not even with ten times the courage. Besides, your two tribes are sworn enemies. If captured, death is certain. Chì-Yán isn’t a fool—he wouldn’t risk his life for a few sacks of grain.”

“The only plausible reason is that he came under the Great Chieftain’s orders, to scout the Shugu Tribe’s strength.”

“A command from the Great Chieftain, any loyal general would obey without question.”

“And only with such an order would he dare such a suicidal mission.”

Unbeknownst to him, however, the Shugu Tribe was firmly under Mo Hua’s control, its surroundings laced with arrays and layered traps.

Most barbarian cultivators had never fought Mo Hua directly, and thus had no idea that this so-called Shaman was, in truth, a dangerously devious array master.

Chì-Yán, unaware of this, had stumbled straight into the web—caught like a turtle in a jar.

But when Dan-Zhu asked him why he’d come, Chì-Yán lied.

That alone proved his distrust. To him, Dan-Zhu—once the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s young chieftain—was no longer one of them.

Dan-Zhu realized this too, his eyes dimming with pain. Then he looked up at Mo Hua, eyes full of silent plea.

Mo Hua understood. “You want to see your father?”

Dan-Zhu nodded.

Mo Hua pondered briefly, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll find a way.”

Dan-Zhu’s eyes lit up with hope.

“But…” Mo Hua’s gaze grew solemn. “Are you ready for what that means?”

Dan-Zhu froze, expression darkening. He knew what Mo Hua meant.

“Once you meet your father again—once you rejoin the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe—you’ll have to choose.

Will you pursue your great vow, walk the Dao you’ve chosen, even if the thorns along that path are soaked with the blood of your kin?

Or will you yield to familial affection… and abandon your conviction?”

“This is your trial.. and there’s no avoiding it.”

Dan-Zhu’s face twisted with pain. “Sir, I…”

Mo Hua shook his head. “Don’t answer me. Ask your heart. Words can lie—even to yourself—but your heart never will.”

Dan-Zhu nodded silently.

Mo Hua asked again, carefully: “You truly wish to see your father now?”

Dan-Zhu’s expression wavered—hesitation, turmoil—but in the end, he nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Mo Hua inclined his head slowly. “Good.”

Some things can never be avoided.

And Dan-Zhu would inevitably face his day of choice.

Mo Hua then went to see Chì-Yán personally.

Without preamble, he said flatly:

“Take me to your Great Chieftain.”

From subtle clues and causal intuition, Mo Hua had deduced that the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s camp was not far from the Shugu Tribe’s territory.

He had tried to divine its location through causal arts, but failed—the area had been deliberately concealed by some Heavenly Secret technique.

After the counter-calculation incident with Elder You, Mo Hua had grown humble, he no longer assumed he could unravel every mystery with a mere thought or gesture.

The world was vast, full of unknowable things.

Failure to calculate something was only natural.

So, if the heavens wouldn’t reveal it, he would find someone who could.

But Chì-Yán merely looked at him and said coldly: “I’ve long been separated from the main force. I don’t know where the Great Chieftain is.”

Mo Hua’s eyes were clear as polished mirrors. He gazed at Chì-Yán and said calmly: “I am a Shaman. I can tell truth from falsehood the moment you speak.”

Under that gaze, Chì-Yán felt stripped bare—like a skinned frog, every lie exposed.

Before he could respond, Mo Hua said quietly:

“My patience is limited.”

Chì-Yán’s face darkened. After a long silence, he finally said, “I will not take you to the Great Chieftain.”

Mo Hua smiled faintly. “Why? Afraid I’ll harm him?”

Chì-Yán didn’t answer.

After all, the Shugu Tribe’s previous Great Chieftain hadn’t been dead long—the grass over his grave hadn’t even grown yet…

Mo Hua’s expression shifted slightly as he said firmly:

“You needn’t worry. I have no ill intent toward your Great Chieftain. On the contrary—he once treated me with courtesy. I owe him that debt.

This time, I go to speak with him about matters of grave importance—concerning the fate of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe… and the future of the Great Wilderness itself.”

Chì-Yán still shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Mo Hua said evenly: “Do you think I’m deceiving you with grand words?”

Chì-Yán frowned. Every thought and emotion in his heart seemed to be seen through by the young Shaman before him, leaving him chilled to the bone.

But still, he shook his head stubbornly. “No matter what you say, I refuse.”

Mo Hua’s eyes grew sharp. “If you won’t take me to the Great Chieftain, then what about Young Master Dan-Zhu? Do you also mean to prevent him from returning to the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe?”

Chì-Yán’s face changed drastically, his expression darkening. His voice turned cold:

“What have you done to Young Master Dan-Zhu? How could a dignified heir of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe—a prodigy of the Golden Core Realm—become so obedient to a mere Foundation Establishment Shaman like you? Why would he stoop to consort with the traitorous Shugu Tribe?”

Mo Hua shook his head. “That is not something you are qualified to know.”

Hatred flashed in Chì-Yán’s eyes.

Mo Hua’s tone cooled further. “Take me to see the Great Chieftain. I have urgent business with him. If we miss this moment, the consequences will be unforgivable. As for Young Master Dan-Zhu, he understands the matter himself—there is no need for you to interfere.”

He paused, voice turning frigid: “This is the last time I’ll ask. My time is precious. If you still refuse, I will have the Shugu Tribe kill you. Even Dan-Zhu’s pleas won’t save you.”

Chì-Yán could feel the killing intent radiating from Mo Hua’s eyes—icy, merciless, and resolute.

It was the decisiveness of one accustomed to command, who killed without hesitation.

After a moment’s thought, Chì-Yán sighed. “Very well… I will take you to the Great Chieftain.”

Some matters were beyond the power of a mere tribal general to decide.

As for Young Master Dan-Zhu, only the Great Chieftain himself could judge his actions.

Chì-Yán might stop this strange Shaman for a while—but he could not stop Dan-Zhu from seeking his father.

Mo Hua met Chì-Yán’s gaze and nodded slightly.

Then Chì-Yán led the way, guiding Mo Hua and his group toward the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s main encampment to meet the Great Chieftain.

Among them were Chi-Feng, the two elders Ba-Shan and Ba-Chuan, and several elite warriors of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

Knowing well that there had long been friction between the Vermilion Sparrow and Shugu Tribes, Mo Hua had not brought any Shugu clansmen along, to avoid unnecessary conflict.

For now, what mattered was reuniting Dan-Zhu with his father and brothers… everything else could wait.

They traveled through the mountain paths.

As they walked, Chì-Yán kept leading the way. After some time, he looked toward Chi-Feng. He had held his tongue several times, but finally couldn’t resist—he found an opening to ask in a low, frowning voice:

“Lord Chi-Feng, it’s one thing for the Young Master to trust that charlatan—but why have you, too, fallen under his spell, serving him so obediently?”

Chi-Feng’s expression was solemn. “The Shaman Lord is wise and mighty. You must not speak disrespectfully of him.”

Chì-Yán froze, staring in disbelief.

He couldn’t understand how the battle-hardened, steady Lord Chi-Feng had turned into a mindless zealot—muttering nothing but praises of “the wise and mighty Shaman Lord.”

Just what level of Soul-Ensnaring Art had that pale-faced youth cultivated?

It was one thing for the naive Young Master to be deceived—but even the worldly and cautious Chi-Feng had been completely beguiled. The thought chilled Chì-Yán to his core.

He instinctively edged farther away from Mo Hua, eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to glance at him or speak.

Thus, the group continued onward in silence.

After half a day’s journey, they arrived before an inverted sandfall—sand cascading like a waterfall, with clouds of dust surging endlessly.

Chì-Yán searched for the correct position and found a deeply hidden recess. Then, taking a stone key from his mouth, he inserted it into the groove and gave it a twist.

A sound of turning mechanisms echoed, and behind the sandfall, a concealed door slowly emerged.

Chì-Yán turned to Mo Hua. “The Great Chieftain and the others are inside this secret outpost.”

Mo Hua nodded. “Lead the way.”

Chì-Yán stepped first into the sandfall.

Chi-Feng followed closely, scouting ahead in case any from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe harbored ill intent toward the Shaman Lord.

Dan-Zhu, however, stood before the sandfall for a long time, hesitating.

Whether it was the trepidation of returning home after years apart—or the torment of facing the cruel choice between his Dao Heart and familial bonds—his heart twisted with pain.

But what must come, will come.

At last, Dan-Zhu took a deep breath. Carrying that turmoil and sorrow, he stepped into the sandfall… toward his destiny.

Mo Hua watched his back in silence for a moment, then followed him in.

The two walked one after the other.

Dan-Zhu was taller, stronger, his cultivation higher.

By outward appearance, he was the one shielding Mo Hua.

But in truth—on the path of the Dao and fate—it was Mo Hua, the “teacher,” who walked behind, silently watching over his “disciple,” ensuring he did not stray from the true path.

(End of this Chapter)