Chapter 1251: Alliance

Chapter 1250: Alliance

Beyond the sandfall lay a hidden world of its own.

It was a naturally formed fortress—a vast stretch of red-brown hills, solid and expansive. Upon those hills stood a large tribal encampment, fires blazing, and banners of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe flying proudly, each flag depicting a scarlet sparrow soaring through flames.

This was clearly one of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s secret encampments—and judging from the weathered stones and aged architectural style, an ancient one at that.

Chì-Yán led Mo Hua and Dan-Zhu into the tribe’s heart.

Along the way, many Vermilion Sparrow cultivators caught sight of Dan-Zhu. After a brief moment of surprise, they broke into delighted cries:

“Young Master!”

“It’s Young Master Dan-Zhu!”

“The Young Master has returned!”

Dan-Zhu’s reputation within the tribe was sterling—admired and beloved by the common clansmen.

Suppressing his unease, Dan-Zhu smiled warmly and returned their greetings with gentle courtesy. His scholarly grace and auspicious bearing made him seem born for leadership. Even Mo Hua couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—this temperament, this poise… truly the air of a born leader.

Of course, the tribe’s upper echelons might not share that sentiment.

But among the ordinary warriors, his benevolent image had long taken root.

Under the crowd’s reverent gazes, Chì-Yán led Dan-Zhu up to the tribe’s grandest hall. There, he turned and said respectfully:

“Young Master, the Great Chieftain awaits you within.”

A faint tension rippled across Dan-Zhu’s features. His eyes sharpened slightly as he murmured, “I’ll go see Father.”

Then, almost unconsciously, he looked back at Mo Hua.

Mo Hua replied, “I’ll go in with you.”

That steadied Dan-Zhu somewhat. He nodded.

Chi-Feng and the others were stopped outside.

Thus, Dan-Zhu and Mo Hua entered the Vermilion Sparrow Great Hall together.

Inside—the gilded hall was vast and grand. Ancient murals of Vermilion Sparrows adorned the walls, though time had left them faded and cracked. Even so, the remnants of its old splendor were unmistakable.

Upon the central dais sat the towering and formidable Great Chieftain of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe—Dan-Lie.

Yet, unlike before, no concubines attended him now; no laughter, no music—only cold wine and the scent of steel.

He no longer wore the ornate chieftain’s robe, but a crimson battle armor, red as blood.

Gone too was the laziness of indulgence—in its place lingered the weariness of one tempered by famine, war, and endless killing.

Seeing him, Dan-Zhu’s heart surged with emotion—joy mixed with guilt. He couldn’t help but whisper, “Father…”

In Dan-Lie’s cold eyes flickered a momentary warmth.

But it vanished just as quickly, buried beneath his stern composure. His expression turned distant again as he gave a slight nod.

“You’ve returned?”

Dan-Zhu froze. His chest tightened with unsaid emotions. After a pause, he murmured softly, “Yes, Father. I’ve returned.”

Silence settled over the hall—a heavy, awkward stillness.

Father and son, long separated—hearts full of words, yet unable to speak a single one.

Then, an abrupt voice broke the quiet:

“Fourth Brother, you’ve traveled far. Sit, eat, drink—rest a while.”

The speaker wore a simple tribal robe, sharp-browed and hawk-faced, his eyes gleaming with vigor. He sat at Dan-Lie’s right hand—Dan-Bie, the third son.

The Great Chieftain had four children—the eldest, two daughters, the third son Dan-Bie, and the youngest, Dan-Zhu.

Dan-Lie waved a hand. “Sit.”

Dan-Zhu bowed. “Yes, Father.”

He took his seat respectfully, with Mo Hua sitting calmly beside him—as though the place were his own.

Before them lay plates of food and wine.

Mo Hua, mildly hungry, picked up a piece of meat—only to find it nearly impossible to chew. The wine was cold as well.

He glanced around the hall.

It was mostly empty—only the Great Chieftain and Dan-Bie remained.

Clearly, before Dan-Zhu and he entered, father and son had been deep in discussion. The dishes had long gone cold, and still no conclusion had been reached.

Barbarian cultivators were mostly body-refiners, strong as oxen and unbothered by cold or toughness in their food.

But Mo Hua was different—frail since childhood, with a “precious constitution” — not suited for such fare. After one polite taste, he set his chopsticks down.

At that moment, the Great Chieftain finally spoke again, his gaze steady upon Dan-Zhu:

“You… are with the Shugu Tribe?”

Dan-Zhu hesitated, trying to explain. “No—”

Dan-Lie interrupted, eyes narrowing. “No?”

Dan-Zhu froze, thought for a moment, then admitted, “Yes…”

After all, by fact, he was currently with them.

Dan-Lie’s eyes grew colder—even tinged with anger—though he kept his tone restrained.

“And what exactly is your relationship with the Shugu Tribe? You haven’t… actually submitted to them, have you?”

Dan-Zhu shook his head quickly. “No! We… no, I only…  we’re merely working together. Together in service to the Divine-Lord…”

Dan-Lie frowned. “The Divine-Lord?”

To him, that sounded like pure fantasy.

He knew well that the Shugu Tribe worshiped the Barbarian Gods—savage and primitive deities. Since when had they begun venerating the Divine-Lord? That ancient title, handed down from myth—none even knew if such a being truly existed.

How could the Shugu suddenly switch faiths?

Dan-Lie turned sharply toward Mo Hua. “Mister Shaman, is what Dan-Zhu says true?”

Mo Hua nodded. “True.”

Dan-Lie pressed, “The Shugu Tribe’s old faith—it wasn’t the Divine-Lord, was it?”

Mo Hua replied, “It was not.”

Dan-Lie asked again, “And now they believe in Him?”

Mo Hua nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I told them to.”

He said it perfectly matter-of-factly.

Dan-Lie was momentarily speechless, exchanging a look with Dan-Bie.

This young shaman was famous for his silver tongue—they knew that much.

But this was… beyond exaggeration.

To overturn generations of tribal faith—with one sentence?

Dan-Bie’s gaze hardened. “I heard the current Great Chieftain of the Shugu Tribe is… Lu-Gu?”

Mo Hua nodded. “He is.”

“A few years ago, Lu-Gu was but a general. How is he now the Great Chieftain?”

“I guided him to become one.”

Dan-Bie’s face darkened further.

“And the Shugu Tribe… has it been unified?”

“Under my guidance, yes.”

Dan-Bie’s eyelid twitched violently.

This Mo Hua’s shamelessness could rival the deserts of the Great Wilderness. If he kept talking, next he’d probably claim he created the Shugu Tribe—or invented their civilization outright.

He might as well declare himself their god.

Dan-Bie forced down his irritation and said darkly:

“So, you’re now… the Shugu Tribe’s Shaman?”

Mo Hua thought briefly, then admitted, “In a sense.”

Dan-Bie’s brows furrowed. “What does ‘in a sense’ mean?”

Mo Hua said calmly, “I act under the will of the Divine-Lord. The Shugu Tribe follows the Divine-Lord. Therefore, I am their Shaman. But strictly speaking, I am not the Shaman of any tribe—I am the Shaman of the Divine-Lord.”

Dan-Bie gave a sharp laugh.

“A Shaman of the Divine-Lord, huh? You speak beautifully…”

Then his tone dropped cold as iron.

“Or perhaps, you were a spy sent by the Shugu Tribe all along—to infiltrate the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, to deceive my fourth brother, to sow chaos within our clan. Your true master… is Lu-Gu, isn’t it? You act on his orders?”

Dan-Zhu turned toward Mo Hua, anxious.

Dan-Lie’s eyes, too, grew frosty.

Mo Hua’s mind tensed. This Dan-Bie—his talent for twisting words is almost impressive.

He shook his head. “You’ve got it backward.”

Dan-Bie frowned. “Backward?”

Mo Hua nodded, solemn as ever. “I am the Shaman, acting on the will of the Divine-Lord. Even Lu-Gu, as Great Chieftain, must obey the Divine-Lord’s decrees. Meaning—I don’t follow Lu-Gu’s commands…”

“Lu-Gu follows mine.”

Dan-Bie froze for a moment—then let out a cold, disbelieving laugh.

“Lu-Gu? A late Golden Core warrior, a man of blood and steel, now Great Chieftain of the Shugu Tribe—and you, a mere late Foundation Establishment shaman, claim he listens to you?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Do you even understand what the words ‘Great Chieftain’ mean? Or the gulf between Golden Core and Foundation Establishment?”

Mo Hua’s expression remained serene—only a faint trace of disdain flickering in his gaze, as though looking at a summer insect speaking of ice.

“I’ve said this many times,” he answered evenly. “I am a Shaman—an agent of divinity. My strength cannot be measured by mortal cultivation.”

Dan-Bie’s chest tightened. His scalp prickled.

As one who prided himself on his verbal sparring, he hated meeting someone whose words were sharper than his—especially someone like Mo Hua, who could utter the most outrageous nonsense with absolute seriousness, making them sound perfectly reasonable.

Commanding Lu-Gu, unified the Shugu Tribe, a Great Chieftain bowing to a Foundation Establishment cultivator… every line was heresy against common sense—yet Mo Hua spoke as if it were divine decree itself.

Dan-Bie’s breath caught in his throat. He finally managed to squeeze out one strangled line:

“Stop lying… you’re starting to believe your own nonsense!”

Mo Hua replied solemnly:

“I never lie. The Divine-Lord can bear witness.”

Dan-Bie was left speechless.

At that moment, the Great Chieftain—who had been silent the entire time—finally spoke slowly. Glancing at Mo Hua, he said:

“Mister Shaman… I’ll call you that for now.

Since you are already the Shaman of the Shugu Tribe, what brings you to my Vermilion Sparrow Tribe? Do you intend to meddle in our affairs as well?”

A trace of authority glinted in Dan-Lie’s eyes.

Mo Hua shook his head.

“I came this time to discuss an alliance.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Dan-Bie’s expression changed drastically.

“Who told you about the alliance?”

Mo Hua paused, a sense of discord stirring within him. A moment of thought later, understanding dawned.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, too, was considering an alliance… But clearly not the same kind of alliance he meant.

Most likely, they were planning to ally with the surrounding third-grade great tribes. And the purpose was obvious… to resist the Wujiao Tribe.

The Wujiao Tribe was a formidable enemy, their armies carrying the might of the Royal Court. Sweeping across the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, they were unstoppable.

Judging from Dan-Lie’s weary expression, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe had already clashed with them—and lost more than once.

But they would not sit and await destruction.

Since a single tribe could not stand against Wujiao’s army, the only recourse was to unite—to form a coalition of survival.

Mo Hua quickly pieced it all together. Before Dan-Lie or the others could speak, he said firmly:

“The Shugu Tribe is also willing to join the alliance—”

Dan-Lie and Dan-Bie both froze.

Dan-Bie sneered:

“This is a matter for Great Chieftains to discuss—not something you have the right to meddle in.”

Mo Hua replied evenly:

“I told you, I am a Shaman. I can represent the Shugu Tribe’s Great Chieftain, Lu-Gu, in these negotiations.”

Dan-Bie’s sneer deepened.

This kid really thought he was someone important.

Dan-Lie regarded Mo Hua for a moment, then after a brief silence, shook his head.

“My Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and the Shugu Tribe have longstanding grudges. It cannot be done…”

Mo Hua immediately countered:

“And which tribes don’t have grudges with one another?”

Having lived in the Great Wilderness this long, how could he not know? The relationships between tribes were like mud mixed with filth—no one could tell which was which.

Betrayal, spies, schemes, murder, adultery, fighting over women, men, or treasure…

Go back three generations in any tribe, and you’ll find all manner of dirty laundry.

It was only that the Vermilion Sparrow and Shugu Tribes’ current generation’s enmity was sharper and more recent.

But now—this was a matter of life and death.

Mo Hua said gravely:

“Famine rages, corpses rot in the fields, and the Wujiao Tribe’s forces press upon us. This isn’t an ordinary year—it’s a sign of tribal extinction.

If we want the chance to talk about the future, we must first survive the present. Otherwise, both the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and the Shugu Tribe will perish together.”

“To endure old grudges and unite—or to cling to hatred and die together—Great Chieftain, you know which choice is wiser.”

Dan-Lie stared deeply at Mo Hua, neither agreeing nor denying. After a moment, he asked slowly:

“You truly can represent Lu-Gu?”

Mo Hua nodded.

“I can.”

Dan-Lie still seemed uncertain.

“Your word alone isn’t enough. Even if you speak for him, Lu-Gu himself must come to talk to me in person.”

Mo Hua nodded again.

“That’s fine.”

Though Dan-Lie remained doubtful that the infamous Lu-Gu would heed Mo Hua’s advice, seeing Mo Hua’s calm composure and unwavering confidence, he finally said:

“Very well. I will permit both you and Lu-Gu to attend the Alliance Assembly.”

“Father…” Dan-Bie started anxiously, wanting to object.

But Dan-Lie waved him off.

“It’s decided. No more words.”

Dan-Bie swallowed his protest.

Mo Hua exhaled softly, relieved.

No matter what, if everyone could at least sit at the same table—that was already a good start.

Dan-Lie, however, pondered for a moment before adding,

“There is… one more thing, Mister Shaman, that you should be mindful of.”

Mo Hua blinked.

“Me?”

Dan-Lie nodded.

Mo Hua frowned slightly.

“Mindful of what?”

Dan-Lie’s gaze flickered as he spoke meaningfully:

“This Alliance Gathering will include many attendees. Aside from the Great Chieftains, Grand Elders, and trusted barbarian generals of each tribe, there will also be two individuals… truly hailing from the Royal Court.”

Dan-Lie looked at Mo Hua with a faintly profound expression.

“So be cautious, Lord Shaman.”

Mo Hua’s heart gave a faint tremor, though his face remained calm as he replied:

“I see…”

(End of this Chapter)