Chapter 1269: Divinity and Humanity

Chapter 1268: Divinity and Humanity

Within the Grand Shaman Hall.

Firelight flickered. The vast chamber was empty, silent, devoid of a single soul.

Mo Hua sat alone upon the Grand Shaman’s high seat, like a solitary “divine statue.”

The candlelight stretched his shadow long and dark across the floor.

“My… humanity…”

His gaze deepened, distant and cold.

A moment later, that coldness softened… yet within that gentleness, there was only divine compassion, and no trace of human emotion.

A gust of night wind stirred the flames; light danced across his pupils. Mo Hua’s eyes trembled slightly — clarity returned.

The aloof, godlike indifference faded away, replaced by a faint glimmer of vitality — a trace of “human” color.

At least, for now, he looked like a man again.

But his brow furrowed ever tighter.

Something felt wrong.

Ever since becoming the Grand Shaman, a vessel of divine authority — in some sense the Divine-Lord himself — nourished by the faith of the Great Wilderness’ people…

His divinity, dwelling within his Divine-Sense, had begun to imperceptibly suppress his humanity.

He had grown ever calmer, ever more detached — viewing all beings from above, watching life and death, war and slaughter, unmoved by suffering, untouched by sorrow.

His body and soul… were transforming into that of a “divine being.”

And worse… he now wielded power.

Fame, power, wealth—these have always been the rot that corrodes the human heart.

Such corruption seeps in quietly, unnoticed.

Those who dwell long amid the halls of authority rarely realize when power itself begins to shape them.

Now, Mo Hua held divine power, political power, and military power — threefold authority gathered into one.

He stood at the very pinnacle of the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, able to decide life and death with a word, to change mountains and rivers with a thought.

And that power was changing him, too.

His humanity was being corroded by absolute rule — while divine nature pressed down from within.

Without realizing it, he was becoming colder, more distant — and the aura of majesty about him grew heavier with every passing day.

Mo Hua frowned slightly and lifted a finger.

A spell condensed, forming a mirror of rippling water.

He gazed into the mirror.

His features were unchanged — yet his presence had grown cold and distant.

Divinity cloaked him. Power filled his grasp.

Though he still looked young and handsome, there was now an aloof grandeur in his eyes — a transcendent chill that belonged not to men, but to gods.

The clear, sincere warmth he once carried had long since vanished.

Now, he looked like a monarch with absolute command — or perhaps more like a “divine idol” carved from pure white jade.

It was… not a good sign.

His brow furrowed deeper; unease stirred within him, an indescribable sense of dissonance.

He had not forgotten — at his core, he was still human.

He had the parents who gave him life, his kin, his master, his friends, the elders of his sect, and many junior brothers…

And of course, the Little Senior Sister etched within his heart as an anchor;

as well as that Little Senior Brother—though deeply remembered in his heart, he had almost forgotten what his face looked like…

If humanity were to fade, emotions would wither into indifference; all those people would become meaningless “figures,” and he himself would lose the very root of his existence.

The Great Dao is vast, and its path endless.

Once one forgets the starting point—loses the anchor of the self—one is doomed to wander forever, drifting aimlessly in the unknown, knowing neither where one is nor where one is going, trapped within the endless mist of the Great Dao, unable to find a way forward.

Divinity is part of his soul — but it can never be the whole.

Those people… he must never forget. He cannot forget.

“But… how does one preserve their humanity?”

Mo Hua lowered his head and looked at his hands.

They were pale, slender, exquisite — beautiful and delicate.

Yet those same hands held the faith of gods, and the power to rule life and death.

With a turn of his palm, he could make ten thousand live — or ten thousand die.

Corpses could pile into mountains; rivers could run red with blood.

Those jade-like hands no longer seemed like hands belonging to a “human.”

Even Mo Hua himself felt a trace of fear toward them.

But there was little he could do.

The situation was as it was. His grand plan unfinished. He could only continue to be his own Shaman, to be the “god” of the Great Wilderness, to lead the barbarian tribes onward, step by step… down a path from which there was no return… the path of a “divine being.”

Candlelight wavered, shadows intertwined, like the ceaseless struggle between divinity and humanity.

And in that tranquil darkness, a sigh echoed — deep, weary, belonging to a god of flesh and blood.

…

Lost in the silent battle between divinity and humanity, Mo Hua did not sleep that night, nor did he cultivate his formations.

By dawn, after setting everything in order, he finally found time to journey deep into the mountains, to check on Big Tiger.

He wasn’t sure how Big Tiger fared, whether it still lingered in the mountains, whether it had broken through, or if some misfortune had occurred.

Deep in the wilderness, all was still… yet the demonic aura in the air was heavy, almost thick enough to drip.

Mo Hua’s expression changed instantly.

He knew the sign… a beast about to ascend in rank. Big Tiger was indeed close to breaking through to Third Grade.

But something felt off.

That demonic aura had long been ripe for breakthrough… yet it had been forcibly suppressed, its realm restrained at Second Grade, unable to advance.

Mo Hua’s figure blurred into rippling light as he flashed to the mouth of the cave.

But several tigresses barred his path.

They refused to let him enter.

Extending his Divine-Sense, Mo Hua sensed Big Tiger inside, but its aura was faint, uncertain.

Was it recovering from a failed breakthrough?

Or had it suppressed itself so long that its own demon power had turned chaotic, damaging its meridians?

Concern flickered across Mo Hua’s eyes. He wanted to enter, but the tigresses stood firm, eyes glinting with feral hostility.

A cold killing intent flashed in his gaze.

Just then, a low, majestic growl rolled out—an immense demonic pressure burst forth from the cave.

A massive striped tiger emerged, its single drooping eye glinting with gold — a Third Grade, One-Eyed Black-Striped Mystic Tiger King.

The aura of a demon king — suffocating, vast, the might of a Golden Core–level beast.

Any ordinary cultivator would’ve quailed before it.

But Mo Hua met its gaze calmly.

In his cold eyes shimmered divine majesty — the authority of one who ruled the life and death of millions.

A king among demon beasts…

And a “divine” king among men.

Man and tiger stood face-to-face, silent, unmoving.

After a long moment, the Mystic Tiger king lowered its gaze and slowly stepped aside.

Mo Hua retracted his divine pressure and entered the cave.

Inside, Big Tiger lay sprawled weakly upon the ground, its breath ragged—suppressing something with great effort, body trembling with pain, utterly unlike its former majestic self.

Sensing his presence, it lifted its dim eyes, and when it saw Mo Hua, those eyes brightened at once.

A pang of sorrow tugged at Mo Hua’s heart.

He knelt and stroked its head, sensing the demonic power within, and immediately understood the problem.

Big Tiger truly was on the verge of breakthrough.

In fact, it should have ascended long ago.

But for some reason, it had forcibly suppressed its demonic power, remaining in this second-rank mountain realm and refusing to advance.

It had been holding back for too long. Now, its demonic energy had started to flow in reverse, through its own demonic meridians, tearing at its very foundation.

If it continued, its entire cultivation base would collapse.

Mo Hua sighed softly.

There was no time to delay.

Big Tiger had to be moved to a Third Grade realm—only there, free from Heavenly Dao’s suppression, could it advance safely.

He immediately wrote commands on a bone slip and sent them to Tie Shù-Gu.

Before long, Tie Shù-Gu arrived with a team of barbarians, pulling a massive beast cage deep into the mountains.

When they saw the tigers dwelling there—especially the half-black, half-white Big Tiger, majestic and radiant like a “sacred beast”—awe overtook every face.

None had known that deep within Mount Wutu, so many tigers dwelled.

Even more shocking, these tigers obeyed Lord Shaman.

And not through any bindings or seals… but by will alone.

Terror and reverence filled every heart.

Tie Shù-Gu’s eyes trembled as well.

But after following Mo Hua for so long, he knew better than to question the impossible.

Mo Hua guided the barely conscious Big Tiger into the cage, then ordered Tie Shù-Gu and the others to pull the cart, to begin the relocation.

The One-Eyed Mystic Tiger King did not stop them.

It seemed to know that Mo Hua was saving Big Tiger.

Instead of opposing, it followed at a distance—part watchful escort, part silent guardian, its intent unreadable.

Behind it, a dozen fierce tigresses trailed close.

And so, that day — the people of Mount Wutu witnessed a sight beyond belief:

The Grand Shaman himself emerged from the mountains, followed by a procession of terrifying tiger demons.

The barbarian cultivators fell to their knees in awe — bowing both to the Grand Shaman, and to the mighty tiger that symbolized the royal bloodline.

To them, this was yet another “miracle” of their divine lord.

…

Time pressed. Big Tiger’s condition was worsening, so Mo Hua did not linger.

He urged Tie Shù-Gu and the others to speed up.

Thus, led by Mo Hua, the caravan—man and tiger alike—departed Mount Wutu, traveling along the “Sacred Runic road” paved by the Profound-Earth Formation, and returned to the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm.

Once there, the oppressive weight of Heavenly Dao lessened sharply. Mo Hua finally exhaled in relief, then immediately ordered his men to find a nearby peak where Big Tiger could rest.

At the same time, Lu-Gu and the other Golden Core cultivators of the Shugu Tribe, along with Chì Fēng and thirty-some Golden Cores from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, had already arrived per Mo Hua’s orders to assist.

When they saw the crowd of tiger demons following Mo Hua, astonishment filled their faces.

In the Great Wilderness, tiger demons were monarchs among beasts—symbols of royal might, wielding immense demonic power.

None of them had ever seen so many fearsome tigers gathered in one place…

Much less seen them this obedient, without any magical restraints.

Mo Hua didn’t bother explaining. He simply said, “Stand guard. No one is to disturb us.”

“Yes, Lord Shaman,” Lu-Gu replied, bowing.

The thirty-plus Golden Core barbarian cultivators quickly surrounded the entire peak, cutting off the tigresses as well.

Mo Hua placed Big Tiger atop the mountain, personally inscribing a formation around it for protection.

He also prepared heaps of roasted meat, sprinkling crushed blood-replenishing pills over it.

Gently patting Big Tiger’s head, he whispered: “This is the third-rank mountain realm. You can break through here. I’ll stay outside to guard you… no one will interrupt.”

Big Tiger looked at Mo Hua affectionately, its weak eyes filled with a faint trace of attachment.

It lifted a massive paw and lightly tugged at Mo Hua, as if asking him not to leave.

Mo Hua froze, warmth rising in his chest.

There was an old saying: “Those not of our race harbor different hearts.”

He was human; Big Tiger was a demon beast.

Demon beasts were bloodthirsty by nature, living their entire lives in slaughter. Their cultivation paths were dangerous—each breakthrough a gamble with death.

Every advancement meant facing the “Gates of Hell.”

If they succeeded, all would be well—but if they failed, their essence would wither, and they would enter a weakened state, leaving them vulnerable and easy prey for other beasts, which would seize the chance to devour them—flesh, bones, and all.

Even success carried danger—if they couldn’t find a safe place to recover, old enemies would seize the opportunity to strike.

Thus, a demon beast’s breakthrough was always its most dangerous moment.

And now, at such a life-and-death moment, Big Tiger didn’t trust its own kind, but it trusted him, a human, to stay by its side.

Mo Hua felt the weight of that trust in his heart.

Softly, he said, “Alright. I’ll stay here and guard your cultivation.”

Hearing this, Big Tiger relaxed. It slowly raised its head and began eating the meat Mo Hua had prepared, piece by piece, chewing slowly.

Outside, however, the third grade One-Eyed Black Tigress suddenly grew agitated—pacing back and forth, its eyes glinting with menace.

Sensing this hostility, Mo Hua’s gaze darkened. He immediately ordered Lu-Gu and the others to hold the perimeter—no tigress was to step foot on the mountain.

Inside, Big Tiger kept eating.

It seemed it hadn’t eaten in a long time—not out of lack of food, but by deliberate restraint—Mo Hua couldn’t tell for sure, but its frailty was evident.

Now, with Mo Hua’s reassurance, it could finally eat in peace.

It ate and ate, devouring heaps of meat that turned into surging blood energy, absorbed into its demonic body.

Its power gradually revived; its body grew stronger; its aura climbed higher and higher.

Its bottleneck began to loosen.

Just then, a violent tiger’s roar erupted from outside the cave.

Mo Hua stepped to the entrance—and saw the One-Eyed Black Tigress and the tigresses beyond, demonic energy raging, eyes blazing with fury, all staring intently at the mountain peak where Big Tiger lay.

Big Tiger was in the midst of breaking through…

—but the other tiger demons were furious.

Mo Hua frowned and ordered: “Stop them.”

Lu-Gu’s expression hardened. He drew a white bone demon-slaying blade and stood before the One-Eyed Black Tiger.

The thirty-plus Golden Core cultivators, along with hundreds of armored Abyssal-Bone soldiers, formed ranks like a wall of iron, encircling the mountain like an impenetrable fortress.

The One-Eyed Black Tiger grew even more enraged. Its eyes turned blood-red, and demonic fire crystallized upon its body.

The rest of the tigers seemed on the verge of losing control as well.

Mo Hua’s frown deepened. He couldn’t understand why Big Tiger’s breakthrough would provoke such fury from them.

What were they trying to do?

At that moment, the aura atop the peak suddenly changed—black and white demonic qi intertwined, filling the entire cavern.

A mysterious and ancient power burst forth.

Big Tiger had begun its breakthrough.

The moment the One-Eyed Black Tiger sensed this aura, it completely lost reason—its roar shook the heavens, its body swelling as blood energy surged around it.

Like a storm, it charged straight toward the mountain peak.

The tigresses, too, went berserk—charging and howling madly toward the mountain peak without care for their lives…

…

Translator Notes:

Sometimes I think that Big tiger is more of a protagnist than Mo Hua himself. I mean:

1. He obviously belongs to a sacred and mysterious background and got lost from his clan.

2. He has a very, very powerful guardian grandpa (Mo Hua) who helps him whenever he is in mortal danger.

3. He has a harem who are stronger than him.