Chapter 1298: Disappearance

Chapter 1297: Disappearance

The Divine-Shaman had vanished.

From Dao Calendar Year 20,042, Great Wilderness New Calendar Year 9—the 1st year of the Divine-Shaman—when the Wilderness divine war began…

To Great Wilderness New Calendar Year 15th, the 6th year of the Divine-Shaman.

Five years of divine war to unify the Great Wilderness; one year of reform to rebuild livelihood and reshape the very structure of the land.

But after all this… after establishing unparalleled achievements, wielding supreme divine authority, freeing the barbarian slaves, constructing vast formations, and earning the love and reverence of millions… the Divine-Shaman vanished without a trace.

For a long time, no one in the Great Wilderness ever saw him again.

As for the cause of his disappearance, theories were endless.

Some said the Divine-Shaman advocated for the masses and provoked terrifying enemies who assassinated him together.

Some claimed he offended the upper echelons of the great tribes, who conspired to murder him out of cowardly ambition.

Others said he made a mistake during a breakthrough, fell into deviation, and perished.

But most believed he had not died at all — that he simply returned to the heavens, “rejoining” the Divine-Lord’s kingdom.

The Divine-Shaman, after all, was not human.

He was a “Child of the Gods” — bearing mortal flesh and walking the world, yet wielding the might of divine punishment and a heart of boundless compassion.

He descended from the heavens under the name of the Divine-Lord to unify the Great Wilderness and save all beings from famine and fire.

Now that the land was unified, the wars ceased, and the starving masses had regained a means to survive…

His mission was complete, and he simply answered the Divine-Lord’s call, returning to the divine kingdom.

This explanation was the most “reasonable,” and naturally the most widely accepted among the people.

To achieve merit yet not claim it; to hold power yet not abuse it.

To benefit all things without competing; to shelter the people without seeking reward.

Only a “god” could do such a thing.

The ordinary barbarian cultivators still held sincere hearts—trusting the Divine-Shaman, believing in the Divine-Lord.

Yet his disappearance still sent tremors across the entire wilderness.

Hidden tides began to surge once more.

…

Vermilion Bird Mountain, Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

Dan-Zhu locked himself alone in his room. His previous confusion and pain resurfaced bit by bit.

His heart felt hollow, as though a piece had been carved out.

“Teacher… is gone…”

No trace. No word. Not life nor death.

Not even a single message left behind.

His faith—his certainty about the future—seemed to lose its foundation and waver.

Dan-Zhu knew now was not the time to collapse. With the Divine-Shaman gone, rebellions were appearing everywhere, and the ambitions of various high nobles were beginning to stir again.

When his teacher was present, no one dared harbor disloyalty; their faith remained firm.

But once that pressure vanished, the selfishness and evil thoughts within people’s mind would reignite like ashes returning to flame.

The Divine Dao was elusive and mysterious — perhaps others could not see through these things, but Dan-Zhu, whose heart was sincere and who had received Mo Hua’s teachings, understood human hearts far too well.

Pressure weighed on him like a mountain.

The anxiety, torment, and grief of losing his teacher intertwined, shaking even the foundation of his Dao-heart.

In this long agony, fragments of Mo Hua’s past teachings suddenly echoed in his ears:

“A cultivator must eventually act according to his own Dao-heart, according to his own faith…”

“There are many things I cannot decide for you.”

“I may not remain in the Great Wilderness forever…”

“If one day I am gone, you must remember… never forget your original Dao-heart…”

Back then, Dan-Zhu took those words as simple teachings, not thinking too deeply.

But now, recalling them amid pain and anxiety, he realized… his teacher might have foreseen this day.

He might have foreseen that, someday, he would face an unknowable calamity and vanish from the Great Wilderness… and thus left these words behind.

And what must I do…?

Why did Teacher instruct me so carefully…?

Dan-Zhu’s thoughts were chaotic. Amid confusion and anguish, he suddenly froze and whispered:

“A cultivator must act according to his own Dao-heart…”

He repeated the sentence again and again. Each repetition washed away a layer of confusion, and his gaze grew clearer and firmer.

“Teacher followed his Dao-heart—unifying the Great Wilderness and saving the people…”

“What I should do is continue Teacher’s Dao-heart, follow his teachings, and finish what he could not…”

“Whether Teacher is here or gone—where the Dao is, where the heart is, there is the path. That is also where Teacher has gone.”

“From today onwards, no matter what comes, I must follow my Dao-heart and my devotion to the Divine-Lord — to protect the faith of the wilderness, to lead its people, and allow them to continue living well…”

“Only then will I not fail Teacher’s teachings and expectations…”

Resolve ignited in Dan-Zhu’s eyes — a blazing fire burning within his Dao-heart.

After Mo Hua’s departure and after experiencing enlightenment, divine war, and unification, tempered by blood and fire, Dan-Zhu now had to face every hardship alone.

Gradually, his Dao-heart began a profound transformation.

He was Mo Hua’s most trusted disciple…

The most acknowledged believer of the Divine-Shaman…

And the highest leader of the greatest faction under the Divine-Shaman — the Divine-Slave Tribe.

Thus, in the years after the Divine-Shaman’s disappearance, Dan-Zhu, upholding his Dao-heart, took the Divine-Slave Tribe as his core and did everything he could to suppress internal division and resist external threats.

With steadfast faith, he stabilized the Divine Dao system, cemented the people’s belief, and carved out a fragile hope for the common barbarian cultivators…

Though the Divine-Shaman had vanished, faith in him remained widespread across the Great Wilderness, passed down from generation to generation.

This faith would later become the only spark of fire during the dark, turbulent age of the Strange Daoist.

Yet at this time, no one knew how dark that future would be.

In their hearts, there was only longing for the Divine-Shaman.

…

Vermilion Bird Mountain, Divine-Shaman Hall.

The majestic Big Tiger — snow-white fur adorned with black patterns — lay in its usual spot, guarding the Divine-Shaman’s throne.

Only now, the one it guarded was no longer there.

From time to time, Big Tiger lifted its head toward the throne, clinging to the faint hope that the familiar figure might suddenly appear.

But each time, the seat remained empty.

Unease crept into the tiger’s heart. It stood, circled the throne several times, and even rubbed its head against it…

But no hand reached down to pat its head.

The one being allowed to do so had vanished.

In the long years to come, it was uncertain when they might meet again.

The Big Tiger let out a low roar, slumped back to the ground, head hanging, eyes filled with loneliness and loss.

…

At the same time, in an unknown prison.

The oppressive sound of dripping water fell drop by drop.

After an indeterminate time, from within the shattered divinity came faint traces of a dead silence erased from existence, and the senses slowly began to awaken.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, pain stabbed like needles.

His limbs, meridians, and bones all throbbed with the shattered ache of a failed breakthrough.

Mo Hua tried to open his eyes, but his body would not respond at all.

He had no idea where he was or what had happened to him.

Amid the chaos, after some more time, faint, slightly noisy voices suddenly reached his ears, as if people were chatting.

These voices were special, ones Mo Hua hadn’t heard in a long while.

His mind was foggy, unable to reason, and he didn’t immediately understand why these voices felt so distinct.

When his Divine-Sense recovered slightly, he realized:

The accent.

These people spoke in the pure accent of the Nine-Provinces, unlike the barbarian cultivators of the Wilderness.

Moreover, their speech seemed even more “proper” than typical Nine-provinces’ cultivators, carrying an unmistakable official tone.

What they were saying also felt unfamiliar to Mo Hua.

“How long will this war drag on…”

“No idea when we’ll be able to go back… it’s exhausting…”

“Idiots, is that all the backbone you’ve got…” someone cursed.

Others lowered their voices, speaking in fragments: “Those above… what they’re thinking… you can more or less guess… the Nine Provinces over there… after so many years… everything’s already been divided up… ranks fixed… where would there still be any spare territory…”

“Under heaven, is there any land not governed by the Dao…”

“This Great Wilderness was originally Ancient-Li Province… by rights, it should already be territory of our Dao Court…”

Ancient-Li Province!

Mo Hua’s heart jolted; his Divine-Sense sharpened significantly.

But as clarity returned, the pain intensified. Despite his best efforts to endure, he emitted a faint, chaotic aura.

Even this minuscule aura drew the attention of the guards, and the air instantly grew silent.

Footsteps followed, as if someone was approaching Mo Hua, but halfway there, the person seemed restrained.

“Don’t go over there, do you want to die?”

“This is someone captured by a True Person; don’t get close. If something happens, we won’t be able to explain.”

The footsteps stopped.

After a moment, someone asked, “Has he woken up?”

Silence fell; the air turned still again.

Mo Hua held his breath, retracting his Divine-Sense, revealing no aura—like a “living corpse.”

Several Divine-Senses scanned the area, and after a long time, someone sighed, “Overthinking… don’t underestimate a True Person’s hand…”

Rustling sounds followed as a few people sat back down, with occasional clinks of bottles, water, and cups, suggesting they were drinking.

“This kid… was really captured by a True Person?”

“Yes.”

Someone glanced back in surprise: “Who is he? Worth a True Person’s personal capture?”

“Do you know… about the Divine-Shaman?”

“I’ve heard a little…”

“When the Dao Court advanced, attacking the Royal Court, the war dragged on for years, back and forth. They barely passed the Ghost Wolf Pass, and when they moved into the Wilderness, they found dense miasma ahead, with withered vegetation. The Wilderness had been isolated by famine.”

“The Dao Court’s army couldn’t break in at all.”

“In the famine-stricken lands, chaos and conflict raged incessantly. Yet from the barbarian tribes emerged a mysterious Shaman claiming to be the Divine-Shaman. Stirring the Wilderness, wielding overwhelming power, unifying the tribes, and then openly rebelling against the Dao Court, committing extreme acts of defiance…”

Someone pointed at Mo Hua, “This kid… is that Divine-Shaman.”

A cup clattered to the ground.

Another took a deep breath.

“You’re joking…”

“He… is the Divine-Shaman? Isn’t he just a Foundation Establishment?”

“Judging by his age, he just graduated from his sect, not even older than my son… and he could oppose the Dao Court?”

“An uncle from my clan personally told me… He was doing business in the Wilderness, chased and slaughtered by this Divine-Shaman like a dog, his wealth, spirit stones, and territory all seized, many people killed. Now, hearing the name Divine-Shaman, his blood boils, his throat wants to spew blood…”

“Your uncle…”

“Late-stage Golden Core.”

“Late-stage Golden Core, chased and attacked by a Foundation Establishment?”

“You don’t know… it’s said that this Divine-Shaman’s power in the Wilderness is terrifying. Many late-stage Golden Core chieftains and generals are his lackeys. Even the fierce Tiger King among beasts—he tamed one as a ‘pet’…”

“Did your uncle say that when he was sober, or when he was drunk? When I’m drunk, I also like to talk nonsense like this…”

“I’m not lying to you…”

“That can’t be right,” someone frowned. “The famine surrounds the Wilderness; Dao soldiers can’t enter. How did your uncle get in?”

The person was silent for a moment, then whispered, “They can’t get in now, but before, it was possible.”

“Likewise, the Dao army couldn’t penetrate because of their numbers, but a few skilled individuals could ‘sneak through,’ so it is not impossible.”

“Otherwise, how did the True-Person manage to capture this ‘Divine-Shaman’?”

“I see…”

“So this boy… really is the Divine-Shaman of the Wilderness?”

“A True Person captured him; it can’t be wrong.”

“But… he’s so young. He doesn’t look capable at all… of accomplishing such extreme acts of defiance…”

“Don’t judge by appearances. Don’t you understand that? Besides, these things weren’t entirely done by ‘him’…”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s said…” His voice lowered further. “It’s said this boy is a ‘flesh puppet,’ with some Evil god possessing him, controlling him. That’s how he unified the Wilderness.”

A chilling cold swept through, and the sound of gasps echoed again.

“Putting that way… it actually does make some sense…”

“The cultivation world is vast; who knows how many strange, mystical things exist. Being possessed by a Evil god isn’t impossible.”

“So this kid is… actually just a ‘tool’?”

“Very likely. He’s probably just a ‘pawn,’ wearing the guise of a Divine-Shaman, being manipulated by someone else.”

“Still a pitiful creature…”

“Pitiful my ass!” someone cursed. “You’d only think he’s pitiful because he’s never killed or robbed you.”

“Do you know how much our Huá Clan has lost in the Wilderness?”

“You may not know all the Clan’s businesses, but they were carefully planned by our ancestors and are the foundation of a great clan like ours.”

“The rebellion in the Great Wilderness, the war restarting—it’s such an important opportunity, a chance for immense profit, once in a thousand years. And yet my Huá Clan’s plans were ruined more than half, all thanks to this boy.”

“This boy truly deserves to die!”

These words stirred genuine anger.

For Huá Clan cultivators, harming one’s business was equivalent to killing one’s parents—it was ingrained in their very bones.

“Then at that time, the True Person should have killed him, stripped him of flesh and bones as a warning…”

“Didn’t I say? He couldn’t be killed. There’s a deity within him…”

“The True Person sealed his divinity, but…”

“Shh!” Immediately, someone grabbed him and said, “Quiet, don’t say too much.”

“I didn’t say too much… this isn’t something… why can’t…”

Before he could finish, the air instantly thickened; the entire prison fell silent, so still, a pin drop could be heard.

After a moment, rustling sounds arose in a rush. Everyone stood and bowed to cultivator in ornate robes who had appeared out of nowhere:

“True Person.”

“Hm.”

The tall cultivator in the ornate robe slightly nodded. He didn’t hear clearly, but he paid it no mind, merely shifting his gaze to Mo Hua, who lay there like the living dead.