Chapter 1268: Humanity

Chapter 1267: Humanity

Everyone present could feel the Divine-Lord’s authority and oppression emanating from Mo Hua.

They all bowed respectfully and declared in unison:

“We shall obey the Divine-Lord’s decree.”

“We shall uphold the command of the Lord Shaman.”

These people were all long accustomed to standing high above others, yet now they bowed to Mo Hua in submission.

Though their expressions remained composed, their hearts could not lie.

There was still doubt, skepticism, mockery, anxiety, and resentment mingled together.

Some even felt clear dissatisfaction, believing Mo Hua was abusing his authority, making a fuss over nothing, and that his downfall was only a matter of time.

The higher ranks of the Great Wilderness were used to scheming against one another; their desires ran deep, their grasp of Heaven’s Will was shallow, and faith was a luxury they could never truly hold.

Mo Hua saw all these emotions but said nothing.

Yet under his divine rule, the Profound-Earth Grand Formation continued to advance with flawless precision.

The people of the Great Wilderness, however, had no idea why they were exhausting their resources to carve so many sacred runes.

The famine had already ceased spreading—so why bother with such toil?

But the Divine-Lord’s decree was iron law.

And the Shaman’s command was absolute.

Out of faith and trust in Mo Hua, the middle and lower ranks of the barbarian cultivators soon cast aside their doubts and threw themselves wholeheartedly into the construction of the Profound-Earth Grand Formation.

All throughout the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, human tides surged like waves—orderly, bustling, and deafeningly busy.

Even in a year of disaster, when lives were frail and resources scarce, the sight of thousands united gave rise to a vision of mankind defying Heaven’s fate.

At this moment, Mo Hua stood before a massive map of the Great Wilderness, frowning in deep thought as he fixed his gaze upon one particular region.

Before long, Tie Shù-Gu quietly entered, reporting on matters regarding the reconstruction of the Vermilion Bird Altar.

Tie Shù-Gu, though rebellious by nature—his moral backbone firm but his actions often hesitant—was still one of Mo Hua’s most trusted aides besides Dan-Zhu and a few others.

Since the incident of the White Bone Tomb, after receiving his resurrected ancestor’s divine decree, he had wholeheartedly devoted himself to Mo Hua’s service.

Whatever task Mo Hua assigned, he carried out without fail.

Because of his unique identity and ancestral inheritance related to the Divine Dao, Mo Hua had entrusted him with all affairs in the tribe concerning faith and ritual.

Matters regarding the Vermilion Bird Altar’s worship ritual were also placed under Tie Shù-Gu’s preparation.

He regularly reported his progress.

Once his latest report was finished, he stood bowed, awaiting further instruction.

Mo Hua, still staring at the map, remained silent.

After a long time, Tie Shù-Gu dared to lift his head slightly. His eyes flicked toward Mo Hua—and then to the map he was studying—his face changing subtly.

That faint flicker of emotion did not escape Mo Hua’s Divine-Sense.

He turned, gaze calm and steady upon him.

Tie Shù-Gu immediately lowered his head again, not daring to meet Mo Hua’s eyes.

Mo Hua frowned slightly, as though recalling something, and suddenly asked:

“Tell me… why did Lu-Gu attack the Wutu Mountain Realm back then?”

Tie Shù-Gu was startled, uncertain why this question arose so suddenly.

“During the Great Famine, the land was desolate. Lord Lu-Gu could only lead his forces in search of a place to survive…”

Mo Hua already knew this much, but what puzzled him was:

“Why that direction… why the Wusha Mountain Realm?”

Looking at the map, Mo Hua suddenly realized: Lu-Gu’s tribe had been far from the second-grade Wusha lands.

If he merely sought refuge from disaster, there was no need to head that way.

Tie Shù-Gu replied: “When the calamity comes from the West, one must seek the East to escape it.”

Mo Hua blinked. “What?”

“It is an ancient prophecy of the Shugu Tribe,” Tie Shù-Gu explained. “It is said that one day, a great Catastrophe will descend from the West, and only by heading East can one avoid it. The East—according to legend—is where the true god of the Great Wilderness first manifested, the place where the sacred fire-seed descended from Heavens…”

Mo Hua frowned. “And this prophecy… since when has it existed?”

“It has always been there,” Tie Shù-Gu said.

“Since ancient times it’s been passed down in our tribe, though so old that few took it seriously. When disaster struck, Lord Lu-Gu, having nowhere left to go, instinctively chose East. That’s how he reached the Wusha Mountain Realm—and met you, Lord Shaman.”

Tie Shù-Gu hesitated, puzzled.

“Lord Shaman… you didn’t know this?”

Mo Hua’s eyes flickered.

He truly did not.

“Head east to seek refuge…”

The eastern reaches of the Great Wilderness—that was precisely where the Wutu Mountain Realm lay.

Wutu… fire-seed…

(TN: The Volume name is also “Fire/Flame”)

Mo Hua felt the string of coincidences tighten like a noose—an ill omen premonition stirring faintly within him.

But some things must be done, regardless of omen. The time had come.

He instructed Tie Shù-Gu: “Select a few witch-cultivators skilled in sacred runes, and wait for me in the Shaman Hall.”

Tie Shù-Gu bowed. “Yes.”

Half an hour later, the Shaman Hall filled with gathered witch-cultivators.

In the Great Wilderness, hierarchy was rigid—bloodline and birth mattered above all, while cultivation disciplines were loosely divided.

Thus, all barbarian cultivators engaged in auxiliary crafts like pills, formations, talismans, or artifacts were collectively known as witch-cultivators.

Even those skilled in witchcraft or ghostly sorceries were grouped under the same name.

The whole system was an orderly kind of chaos.

Mo Hua planned to one day unify and reform the Great Wilderness’s cultivation system and tribal structure—but that would have to wait.

For now, survival came first.

Once all promising witch-cultivators were gathered, Mo Hua seated himself high upon the dais, his gaze stern:

“The Divine-Lord above has bestowed sacred law upon me, transmitting the supreme Dao to save all beings of the Great Wilderness—this matter bears immense weight.”

“Now, I shall share the Divine-Lord’s grace with you, transmitting the sacred runes that embody the mysteries of the boundless earth.”

“May you inherit this divine favor, study with devotion, and work together to halt the famine and deliver the people from ruin…”

To share the Divine-Lord’s Sacred Laws equally among the people—

The hall fell into shocked silence. Every witch-cultivator’s face froze in disbelief.

In the Great Wilderness, inheritance was fiercely guarded—even tribal chieftains and elders rarely passed on their knowledge.

Yet now, the Lord Shaman himself would teach them the Divine-Lord’s sacred inheritance.

Such grace was no different from that of a second parent.

One after another, these proud and aloof cultivators fell to their knees, crying out:

“May the Divine-Lord be eternal!”

“Gratitude for the Shaman’s grace!”

“We are willing to march through fire and blood for you, Lord Shaman, without hesitation!”

Mo Hua nodded faintly, then distributed bone slips he had long prepared, his insights on the Profound-Earth Absolute Formation, and its related Five-Element Earth and Eight-Trigram Gen formation systems.

“These sacred runes,” Mo Hua said, “are gifts from the Divine-Lord Himself—deeply bound to the essence of the Great Wilderness.”

“Some may differ from your traditional patterns—pay it no mind. Simply study with full focus.”

“Most crucial of all is the final one—the sacred rune of First Grade, Eleven Lines.”

At those words, the hall erupted in gasps.

An Absolute Formation like this was beyond the scope of the Dao Court’s Nine Provinces; far beyond any wilderness array master’s imagination. Many formation cultivators lived entire lifetimes without ever glimpsing an Absolute Formation, much less studying one.

Even those who stumbled upon such things would often dismiss them as useless curiosities—too complex, too strange—mocking them as “nonsense formations.”

(TN: Was I the only one who thought Absolute Formations were the norm.)

But the Absolute Formation was vital.

Within it lay the very laws of Heaven and Earth—only through it could one glimpse the true principles of formation itself.

Mo Hua’s plan was to spread knowledge of the Profound-Earth Absolute Formation across the Great Wilderness, guiding these witch-cultivators to commune with the Dao of the Earth, to awaken in them the virtue of “the Earth’s boundless bearing,” transforming their faith from worship of “God”… to reverence for “Heaven and Earth”— beginning first with the Earth.

“Man follows the Earth.”

The Earth nurtures all life—its virtue profound, its vitality endless.

At the beginning of one’s Dao Heart, one must first feel the Great Dao’s vitality from the Earth itself—the virtue and magnanimity that nourishes all things.

Mo Hua knew well that matters of the Great Wilderness—especially those touching Heaven and Earth—could never be solved by him alone.

He had understood this long ago, back when he helped construct the Five-Element Demon-Slaying Formation in Tōngxiān City.

Human strength is limited. Individual cultivation, no matter how great, remains finite.

If one only seeks power—to conquer, to kill, to dominate—then cultivating one’s own strength was enough.

But to truly alter fate, to change the destiny of all beings—personal cultivation alone will never suffice.

He needed others.

He needed to transform hearts.

To spread the Dao among them.

To let their collective will and faith converge into one— only then could Heaven and Earth themselves be reshaped.

And among all crafts, formation was supreme.

Formations were the most direct manifestation of Heaven’s laws—the very foundation of civilization and cultivation alike.

And the carriers of these formations were the array masters themselves.

Thus, Mo Hua had to teach his Way of Formations—to train and inherit a lineage of array masters whose Dao Hearts followed Heaven and Earth through the art of formations.

“The First-Grade Eleven-Line Sacred Rune lies beyond worldly inheritance,” Mo Hua said solemnly.

“It contains the laws of the Divine Dao—the will of the Divine-Lord Himself.”

“You may not comprehend it soon, but with faith and perseverance, one day you will grasp the Divine-Lord’s intent and the mysteries within—and when that day comes, you will wield the vitality of the Earth itself.”

Mo Hua’s tone carried earnest hope.

The witch-cultivators all prostrated, reverently saying:

“We thank the Divine-Lord for His grace, we thank the Lord Shaman for His teaching!”

From that day, they followed Mo Hua’s guidance, immersing themselves in study of the Profound-Earth Absolute Formation and many unfamiliar formation systems unlike anything native to the Great Wilderness.

They progressed slowly—for Absolute Formations were too profound, beyond ordinary comprehension.

Even with their Foundation Establishment cultivation and strong Divine-Sense, their comprehension was limited.

But their grasp of ordinary Five-Element Earth and Eight-Trigram Gen formations advanced rapidly—and that was enough.

In Mo Hua’s grand design, he alone would draw the framework of the pseudo-grand formation—the Profound-Earth Absolute Formation while the multitude of lesser Earth and Gen formations would be filled in by these witch-cultivators.

Over time, as they practiced and learned, those with exceptional talent who managed to glimpse even a sliver of the Absolute Formation’s essence would be elevated by Mo Hua as “Elder” among the formation masters.

These chosen would receive his personal instruction and then carry his will across the Great Wilderness, expanding the Profound-Earth Grand Formation outward.

From these points, the network would spread across the entire land—a colossal formation vast enough to resist the famine and revive the earth’s vitality.

That was Mo Hua’s grand plan.

For now, these witch-cultivators needed experience, refinement, and practice.

Soon, Mo Hua granted them their first chance to act—the first step in constructing a true Profound-Earth Formation Ground, capable of resisting famine and awakening the Earth’s life force.

The project would start from the southeastern corner of the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, extending eastward through the Second-Grade Wusha Territory and reaching the Wutu Mountain Realm. The very place where Mo Hua had first arrived in the Great Wilderness, his earliest foothold, his first foundation.

What had become of the Wutu Mountain Realm now—Mo Hua did not know.

Those people he had once met, those familiar faces—perhaps they were already gone.

The thought weighed on him.

Back then, when wars raged ceaselessly across the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, Mo Hua had no chance to return.

Now that he had unified the realm and gathered both manpower and resources, he finally possessed the means to carve a path through the famine—a road leading back to the Wutu Mountain Realm.

The Profound-Earth Absolute Formation—for now, only Mo Hua could draw it.

Thus, following the blueprints in his mind, he personally began to outline a portion of it.

The other Witch Cultivators surrounded his formation work, filling in the accompanying Five-Element and Eight-Trigram arrays according to his structure.

Mo Hua pointed with his finger—spiritual ink coiled from his fingertip, then, as if alive, traced itself across the ground, weaving an array that merged seamlessly into the earth.

Though the Witch Cultivators had seen such “divinely-assisted” craftsmanship more than once, they could not help but exclaim in awe.

“As expected of Lord Shaman—his Divine Dao leaves no trace, truly godlike…”

The crowd’s admiration overflowed.

Then they drew out bone brushes and began working earnestly on the pre-laid formation media, following the grand array blueprint Mo Hua had provided—stroke by stroke, carefully and reverently.

Since it was their first time participating in such a massive project, many made small mistakes.

Mo Hua continued his own formation work while extending his Divine-Sense to inspect every array. Whenever he noticed an error, he would calmly point it out and offer brief guidance.

The corresponding Witch Cultivators, filled with both guilt and gratitude, would immediately correct themselves according to his words.

Thus, Mo Hua painted, inspected, and instructed all at once.

With his patient guidance, the shamans adapted to the formation work and soon ceased making mistakes.

Through this participation, their formation skills subtly improved, and their understanding deepened day by day.

And the more they learned, the greater their awe for Mo Hua’s mastery became.

They revered and admired their Lord Shaman from the depths of their hearts.

Such a noble figure—personally teaching them, guiding their hands, correcting their errors, urging them toward perfection, and revealing to them the profound secrets of sacred rune formation arts…

To them, he was truly a gift bestowed upon the Great Wilderness by the Divine-Lord himself.

Indeed, Mo Hua was the Divine-Lord’s greatest blessing to them all.

Not only was the Divine-Lord’s faith spreading through Mo Hua’s image. Even Mo Hua himself, in his mortal flesh, unknowingly became the object of countless people’s reverence.

Using the Profound-Earth Absolute Formation as the foundation, Mo Hua directed the Witch Cultivators to draw subsidiary arrays, while the Divine Slave Tribe’s barbarian cultivators cleared mountain paths and laid down the array mediums.

Through everyone’s combined effort, a pathway of sacred runes gradually extended into the famine-ravaged lands—where no living creature could tread.

The ferocious power of famine was steadily suppressed beneath Mo Hua’s sacred runes.

Seeing this, all were shaken once more and filled with reverence for the might of the Divine-Lord.

…

Half a month later.

Thanks to their labor, a ‘sacred rune’ engraved mountain road had pierced through the famine zone, reaching the far eastern edge of the Great Wilderness.

And after all this time, Mo Hua finally returned to the place where he had first entered… the Wutu Mountain Realm.

Looking around, he saw scattered tribes nestled among the mountains; the aura of the barbarian cultivators was calm and steady.

The entire Wutu Mountain Realm was astonishingly peaceful.

Outside lay famine and war, yet within the famine’s encirclement, life seemed untouched, exactly as it had been when Mo Hua left.

Everything remained exactly as he had arranged—orderly, stable, following his decreed rules.

To Mo Hua, this should have been a relief.

Yet in his heart, that strange premonition—like a maggot gnawing at bone—grew ever stronger.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and that an unseen hand had, long ago, set up a “game” around him.

Frowning slightly, Mo Hua led his guards—and young Zha Tu, who had long yearned to return home—back to the Wutu Tribe.

There, Zha Tu met his grandfather, Elder Zhamu.

Elder Zhamu was aged and frail, with a face weathered by time and a body nearing its end. Yet he lived on, clinging to one final attachment—his only remaining kin, his little grandson.

So when Zha Tu rushed into his arms, sobbing with joy, Elder Zhamu smiled through tears, his heart filled with relief.

All mortals must die.

And amid great calamities, human life becomes even more fragile and cheap.

Ordinary barbarian cultivators like them could not resist fate. Their only prayer was to see their loved ones once more before death—to know their kin still lived somewhere in this world. That alone was enough to erase all regrets.

Tears of joy streaked Elder Zhamu’s worn face as he held his grandson tightly.

Mo Hua, however, stood motionless, his expression faintly dazed.

Long accustomed to standing high above, observing the heavens through the eyes of a shaman and ruling with divine authority, he suddenly felt a trace of warmth stir within his chest.

It was nothing remarkable—just a faint, bittersweet warmth.

But that warmth illuminated the coldness in his heart.

Mo Hua’s perception of his own Divine-Sense state was exceptionally sharp and keen.

And in that moment, he realized: this warmth was his…

Humanity.

His humanity was sprouting once again within his heart.

Which meant…

Mo Hua’s expression grew complicated, and a faint unease rising within him.

“It means… that my humanity, without me realizing it, has already begun to fade… perhaps it has already…”

“…already perished—at least, in part.”

…

Translator Notes:

The ancient prophecy and Mo Hua’s feeling that “an invisible hand had long ago set up a game for him” make me think that it might be the Grand Shaman Priest.

I mean, the Shugu Tribe’s connected to him, and he’s the one who deciphered/created Mo Hua’s life-bound formation too. Plus, when Mo Hua was comprehending the Taotie Laws, he felt an ancient gaze on him, one that even his Dao-transformed Divine-Sense and his casual calculations missed, and only the Dao Stele noticed. Perhaps that was the Grand Shaman Priest’s gaze and that when he started plotting?

(End of this Chapter)