Chapter 1254: Descent of the Vulture God

Chapter 1253: Descent of the Vulture God

Like a cat catching a whiff of fish, every pore on Mo Hua’s body began to tremble faintly. He couldn’t help but murmur under his breath:

“Divine… descent…”

Though his voice was soft, Flame Shaman—who had been pretending to “ignore” Mo Hua while secretly watching him the entire time—still caught it. That subtle tremor and flicker of astonishment in Mo Hua’s expression didn’t escape his sharp senses either.

Flame Shaman sneered. “What’s this? The esteemed Lord Shaman doesn’t know what a divine descent is?”

Ordinarily, even if Mo Hua didn’t know, he would’ve forced himself to pretend otherwise. After all, a Shaman must never lose face.

But this time was different.

Mo Hua, like a cat whose soul had been hooked by a fish, couldn’t help nodding. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Flame Shaman froze for a moment, surprised by Mo Hua’s frankness, then gave a cold laugh.

“What’s this? Even your so-called Divine-Lord didn’t tell you such things? And you still call yourself a Shaman?”

Mo Hua said nothing, quietly bearing Flame Shaman’s mockery.

One must be magnanimous. In the face of greater matters, he could endure such minor “discourtesy.”

Seeing Mo Hua’s calm silence, Flame Shaman didn’t continue to taunt him, lest he appear petty, being a late-stage Golden Core cultivator.

One victory was enough.

Flame Shaman’s expression grew solemn as he slowly began:

“The Wujiao (Vulture) Tribe—one of the third-grade Great Shaman tribes of the Wind Mountain Realm—is an ancient lineage with a long, storied heritage. Yet in the past centuries, their strength had declined and their name had faded. That was until their previous Grand Chieftain, through tireless reform, abandoned extravagance and indulgence, devoted his life to revitalizing the tribe—raising barbarian soldiers, nurturing shamanic cultivators, forging vast numbers of Barbarian Armors. Only then did they amass true power.”

“The previous Grand Chieftain poured out his heart and blood, and in the end, died from the exhaustion of both spirit and life-force.”

“His son succeeded him, continuing his will, and pushed the tribe’s development even further.”

“And now, the current Grand Chieftain of the Wujiao Tribe—having schemed and toiled for centuries—is old and frail. His son has inherited that ambition and leads the Wujiao Army on distant campaigns, trampling over mountain realms, seeking to unify the entire Wilderness. That man is the current Young Chieftain of the Wujiao Tribe…”

A tale of three generations—each carrying the banner forward to glorify their tribe.

Even the other Grand Chieftains and Great Elders present couldn’t help feeling awe and a tinge of admiration.

Unfortunately, the road to the Wujiao Tribe’s greatness was paved with their corpses.

It was a contradiction that could never be reconciled.

Mo Hua frowned slightly. Something about this didn’t add up.

The Wujiao Tribe’s rise was too fast. Such rapid expansion couldn’t be explained by “diligence” or “devotion” alone.

Barbarian soldiers, Shaman cultivators, vast stores of Barbarian Armor, and legions of beast-mounted cavalry—these were all concrete combat assets.

Such depth of foundation could never be achieved by mere effort.

There had to be something else behind their rise.

Mo Hua even suspected that the previous Wujiao Grand Chieftain must have obtained some extraordinary opportunity, some divine fortune that had propelled their tribe forward like a god’s blessing. He wasn’t alone in that suspicion; the other tribes’ chieftains likely understood the same.

Yet opportunity alone wasn’t enough.

Without the drive to seize it, even a divine gift is wasted.

The Wujiao Tribe’s iron-blooded will and ambition were formidable indeed.

Flame Shaman continued, “But this kind of conquest—it’s only territorial. The Wujiao Tribe seeks something greater: permanent dominion. Therefore, it is highly likely they intend to summon their deity, the Vulture God, to descend upon Vermilion Bird Mountain. With divine power, they can suppress and reshape the faith of every tribe here.”

Someone frowned. “Their god… is that powerful?”

Flame Shaman was silent for a moment before replying slowly:

“This is a secret of the Royal Court’s Divine Hierarchy—strictly forbidden to spread. But given the urgency of our situation, you must understand… Ordinary deities indeed lack such power, and even those who possess it require a proper medium.”

He paused, then went on, “But the Wujiao Tribe is different. They are an ancient tribe, worshiping a primeval god since time immemorial—a single deity, unbroken through the ages. Because of this unwavering faith, their god has become especially powerful. In the Divine Dao, he is known as the ‘Great Vulture God.’”

“And Vermilion Bird Mountain, according to the Royal Court’s mountain records, conceals within its depths an Ancient Divine Altar—a site once used to worship gods of antiquity, holding immense divine authority.”

“Once the Great Vulture God descends upon that ancient altar and completes the Descent Rite, the divine will emanating from it will permeate the entire mountain. Every barbarian’s Divine-Sense will be tainted by it. Their faiths will twist… and be reforged.”

The Great Vulture God.

The Ancient Divine Altar.

Mo Hua’s heart trembled.

The rest of the Grand Chieftains and Great Elders turned pale as well.

They had already guessed that the Wujiao Tribe’s ambitions in faith were vast… but none had imagined this vast.

Even the existence of the “Ancient Divine Altar” within Vermilion Bird Mountain was a closely guarded ancient secret.

Some of the younger chieftains hadn’t even heard whispers of it.

Lu-Gu, having only recently ascended to his position, knew nothing of it at all.

Flamewing Grand Chieftain frowned. “How could the Wujiao Tribe know such secrets of our mountain’s altar?”

Flame Shaman’s gaze sharpened. “The Wujiao Tribe also preserves ancient shamanic traditions. Though their lineage cannot compare to the Royal Court’s, concentrating all their resources to cultivate one or two powerful Shamans isn’t impossible. Such Shamans—versed in the Divine Dao and steeped in Divine-Sense mysteries—could easily uncover ancient truths through unpredictable means.”

“Therefore…”

Firelight flickered in Flame Shaman’s eyes. “This war against the Wujiao Tribe is not merely one of soldiers and steel—it is a Shaman War, a war of faith, a true Divine War.”

The hall fell silent and heavy.

Flame Shaman’s gaze swept the room.

“This battle,” he said, “is both a war between tribes and a war of belief. Thus, we must appoint a single Tribal Alliance Chief to lead all forces.” His eyes glided across the gathered chieftains before fixing on one face. “I, as Shaman, hereby nominate Grand Chieftain Dan-Lie of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe as Alliance Chief for this campaign!”

The hall was stunned.

Flamewing Grand Chieftain—who had thought himself close to Flame Shaman and expected the position—stared in disbelief.

Dan-Lie himself was equally startled. He had little personal connection to Flame Shaman and no idea why he was suddenly being elevated.

Then, even the Azure Shaman—silent until now—nodded. “I agree.”

The crowd’s astonishment deepened.

Flame Shaman looked around. “Does anyone object?”

Utter silence.

None could discern his intent, and none dared challenge two Royal Court Shamans openly.

Dan-Lie frowned slightly. “Lord Flame Shaman… may I ask why you chose me for this post?”

He did want the position—but not without understanding the reason.

Flame Shaman smiled gently. “Grand Chieftain Dan, you have a daughter—Dan-Ling—who serves in the Royal Court, correct?”

Dan-Lie blinked, then nodded. “Indeed.”

Flame Shaman continued, “Years ago, when I still served in the Great Wilderness Royal Court, I met your daughter a few times. Her spiritual roots were like fine jade, her bearing radiant as a crimson luan—truly dazzling beyond compare.”

“To offer such a gem to the Royal Court speaks of your loyalty to the royal bloodline and your devotion to the faith of the Wilderness.”

“Therefore, none but you are fit to hold this alliance’s command.”

Dan-Lie was beginning to understand. “Then, Lord Flame Shaman, you mean…”

Flame Shaman smiled faintly. “When my duties here are done, I shall return to the Royal Court. I only hope that upon my return, you will grant permission for Dan Ling to become my disciple—to receive my baptism and serve as a maiden devoted to the gods.”

A cold laugh cut through his words. “You? Worthy?”

Flame Shaman turned. Azure Shaman glared at him, displeased. “Don’t think I don’t see your intent. I’ve met Dan Ling too—and I like her. She will be my disciple, and I shall baptize her.”

Flame Shaman’s face darkened.

No one else dared speak as the two Shamans glared at one another.

Dan-Lie, caught in the middle, looked troubled. “Whom she chooses to follow as teacher—that must depend on her own will. As her father, I cannot decide.”

Flame Shaman said, “No matter. A simple letter from you will suffice. I’ll deliver it to her myself. A daughter should not defy her father’s word—Dan Ling will understand her duty.”

All he needed was the pretext.

Dan-Lie looked between the two Shamans, still uncertain.

Flame Shaman’s tone softened. “This is a matter between Shamans; we will settle it ourselves. You need only perform your role as Alliance Chief. It’s a righteous post and has nothing to do with the rest.”

His words were polished and polite… but everyone knew what he meant: he wanted Dan-Lie to sell his daughter, gracefully.

Dan-Lie thought briefly, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll accept.”

Flame Shaman smiled in satisfaction.

Azure Shaman said no more.

With two Royal Court Shamans’ approval, no one dared oppose the decision.

The gathered chieftains and elders exchanged complicated looks—envy, jealousy, resentment, disdain, contempt. Yet envy and jealousy were the stronger by far.

After all, this concerned not only authority, but fate and the tribe’s future.

Who would refuse such a prize?

Flame Shaman looked around once more. “Any further questions?”

The hall remained silent.

Until…

A clear voice spoke: “I have one.”

Flame Shaman turned. It was Mo Hua.

“I have a question…” Mo Hua said.

“Go on,” replied Flame Shaman.

Mo Hua’s eyes shone with curiosity. “That Great Vulture God you mentioned… exactly how big is he?”

Flame Shaman froze.

The others were speechless—unsure what to make of the half-fake, half-real “Shaman” asking such a childlike question at such a moment.

Flame Shaman brushed it off. “Very big.”

Mo Hua nodded thoughtfully.

Ignoring him, Flame Shaman addressed the gathered chieftains and made the final declaration:

“This alliance shall be led by Chief Dan-Lie of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, who will serve as Grand Alliance Leader and oversee all military affairs.”

“If major decisions cannot be made, the tribal council of chiefs and elders shall convene to deliberate.”

“The purpose of this alliance is to annihilate the Great Wujiao Tribe’s armies in the Barbarian Wars…”

“…and in the coming Divine War, to eradicate their shamans and shamanic cultivators.”

“The Great Vulture God is an ancient deity of the wilderness—beyond the reach of mortal power. Thus, our goal in this campaign is to destroy every shaman and cultist of the Great Wujiao Tribe, and disrupt the ‘Descent of the God’ ritual. Should the Great Vulture God truly descend, the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm will lose its divine faith and face annihilation.”

At once, the assembled chieftains, elders, and generals rose to their feet, striking their chests with their fists in solemn salute.

“We shall heed the will of the Lord Shaman!”

“Our tribes will devote all strength to defending our ancestral mountain realm, resisting the Great Vulture invaders, and repelling the heretic god!”

“Should any break this oath—may Heaven itself condemn them!”

Their vows echoed like thunder, firm and resolute.

Mo Hua stood quietly among them, eyes glimmering, saying nothing.

Thus, the matter of the alliance was settled—at least in principle.

The tribes all began their frantic preparations, moving quickly to ready for war.

After returning to camp, Mo Hua sought out Dan-Zhu.

“You have a sister named Dan-Ling?” he asked.

Dan-Zhu nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Mo Hua tilted his head. “Is she beautiful?”

When Flame Shaman had mentioned Dan-Ling, he had described her as “a peerless gem,” “a crimson luan,” radiant as red jade itself.

And when he’d said those words, Mo Hua had sensed, through Divine-Sense, the surge of suppressed lust boiling within Flame Shaman—like an unholy fire.

Others might not have noticed, but Mo Hua—whose Divine-Sense had already merged with the Dao of Heart-Demon Seed—perceived it clearly.

Flame Shaman, a high-ranking Upper Shaman in the late Golden Core stage, one who had served the Royal Court of the Great Wilderness and seen countless spectacles—should not have been so easily swayed by desire.

The only plausible reason… was that Dan-Ling’s beauty truly shattered restraint.

What was stranger still—Azure Shaman also seemed unusually concerned with her.

That, Mo Hua found very curious.

Dan-Zhu hesitated. “I… think so?”

Mo Hua frowned. “What do you mean think so?”

Dan-Zhu scratched his head. “I only saw my sister when I was very young. She used to hold me in her arms… I remember her being very beautiful, but it’s been so many years. I don’t know what she looks like now—or if my memory still counts.”

Mo Hua nodded slowly.

Dan-Zhu, however, looked at him with hesitation, struggling for a long time before finally blurting out: “Sir… why do you want to know if my sister’s pretty?”

Mo Hua froze for a moment, then replied solemnly: “It concerns the Heavenly Secrets and the web of causality. I cannot reveal more for now.”

“Oh…” Dan-Zhu nodded, not quite convinced.

Mo Hua’s expression grew a shade more serious. “And about that matter I asked you before—have you made your decision?”

Dan-Zhu froze for an intant, his eyes dimming slightly, as though afraid to meet Mo Hua’s gaze.

After a long breath, he lifted his head, meeting Mo Hua’s eyes with firm resolve.

“Sir, I’ve decided.”

“A person must have a Dao Heart in this life. If Father and Brother walk the same path as I, then we stand united. But if not… I will not yield.”

Having endured countless setbacks and the tempering of war, Dan-Zhu’s eyes had gained clarity—his Dao Heart now firm as tempered steel.

Mo Hua read the determination in his eyes and nodded. “Good.”

He only wished for Dan-Zhu to reach this understanding early.

Whether things would truly come to father and son turning against each other, brothers becoming enemies—that, Mo Hua couldn’t bear to let his “disciple” suffer such a fate.

Everything would depend on the abilities of this so-called “teacher.”

Vermilion Bird Ancient Altar.

Great Vulture God…

Mo Hua’s gaze deepened as he murmured to himself…

“I just wonder… if this Great Vulture God is truly big enough—enough for me to devour all twenty-four runes in one bite…”

(End of this Chapter)