Chapter 1299: Human · Mo Hua

Chapter 1298: Human · Mo Hua

“Leave,” the Feather Ascension True-Person in splendid ornate robes said calmly, his tone cold and authoritative.

“Yes.” A group of Golden Core guards withdrew.

Inside the prison, it was utterly empty. Only the Feather Ascension cultivator remained, along with Mo Hua lying on the prison bed.

The ornate robed cultivator glanced at Mo Hua and said flatly, “Open your eyes. I know you’re awake.”

Mo Hua’s eyelids still felt as heavy as a thousand catties. After struggling for quite some time, he finally managed to open them slowly.

An extremely tightly secured prison came into view.

Formations were everywhere, chains filled his sight. His entire body was sealed by a strange kind of talisman, and beside him was even an exquisite sword formation carved into the ground—any slight movement on his part would trigger the punishment of ten thousand swords piercing his heart.

Mo Hua’s first reaction was: this is way too grand.

In his entire life, he didn’t think he had ever been treated this “solemnly” before.

It was as if he weren’t a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, but some heinous Feather Ascension demon lord.

With difficulty, Mo Hua turned his head and looked to the other side, where he saw the Feather Ascension True-Person dressed in splendid ornate robes.

The cultivator’s complexion was fair, like carved jade; his attire was luxurious and immaculate, not a speck of dust upon it.

At a glance, one could tell he was a Feather Ascension cultivator from a great aristocratic clan—well-born, highly talented, immensely powerful, and carrying himself with supreme nobility.

This was also the Feather Ascension cultivator who, that day, had taken advantage of Mo Hua’s failed breakthrough, stabbed golden needles into his Sea of Consciousness, and “arrested him on the spot.”

Moreover, he was a Feather Ascension True-Person of the Huá Clan.

Mo Hua silently looked at this Feather Ascension cultivator without speaking.

The ornate robed cultivator spoke first. “What is your name?”

Mo Hua frowned and still did not answer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak—when he tried to recall his own name, his mind was truly blank. He couldn’t remember anything at all.

He couldn’t remember what his name was.

The failed breakthrough and the collapse of his Divine-Sense had once again dulled his memories.

The robed cultivator was somewhat displeased, but soon realized that this boy might genuinely not remember his own name.

Truly not remembering and pretending not to remember were completely different in how they manifested.

This much could not escape the eyes of a Feather Ascension True-Person like him.

Moreover, he had indeed used rather forceful methods to inflict a certain degree of “damage” upon Mo Hua’s Sea of Consciousness.

The ornate robed cultivator asked again, “Why did you become a Divine-Shaman? Who transmitted the Divine Dao to you? Who was behind you, directing this?”

Mo Hua shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The robed cultivator said calmly, “It’s useless to deny it.”

Mo Hua’s fair face was blank with confusion, like a sheet of white paper.

The ornate robed cultivator frowned. He did not wish to lower himself to engage in verbal sparring with a boy like this, but if he resorted to torture…

He glanced at Mo Hua, who was “half-dead,” frail and delicate, and worried that the moment he used force, the boy might simply die.

His gaze flickered slightly, and he said, “Rest well.”

Mo Hua asked in return, “Who are you? Where am I right now?”

But the ornate robed cultivator did not answer at all. His figure gradually faded, leaving the prison. When he appeared again, he was already inside an elegant tea room.

The ornate robed cultivator took out a jade slip.

On the jade slip was a single, simple line of text, recording only a time and a location—nothing more.

Yet this lone line of text was extremely “expensive.”

Because it had been “obtained” from a retired Grand Elder of the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion, one who no longer involved himself in worldly affairs.

It was this Pavilion Grand Elder who had calculated the location of the Great Wilderness Divine-Shaman and leaked it to the Huá Clan, enabling him to take action and capture that mysterious Divine-Shaman of the Great Wilderness alive.

“I have resigned and no longer involve myself in external matters, nor is it appropriate for me to divulge the secrets of heaven. However, the affairs of the Great Wilderness ultimately concern the Dao Court and its foundations. Especially those rebellious traitors who commit great acts of treason—they cannot be left unchecked, or calamities without end will surely follow…”

“You go and capture him. Cut off the root of the Wilderness rebellion. Eliminate that rebel…”

“But this matter is highly confidential. You must never mention my name to the outside world.”

These were the Pavilion Grand Elder’s original words.

The “rebellious traitor, one who commits great treason” naturally referred to the Great Wilderness Divine-Shaman who had stirred up storms and openly rebelled.

A Pavilion Elder was still a Pavilion Elder. Though retired, he still harbored the heart to benefit all under heaven and would not sit idly by while certain “bad seeds” brought disaster upon the Dao Court.

The Huá Clan’s ancestor had once had some disputes with the Pavilion Grand Elder, but those were private grudges.

When it came to matters of right and wrong, the Pavilion Grand Elder never hesitated.

And following the heavenly secrets leaked by the Pavilion Grand Elder, amid the “hunt” conducted by a group of old monsters, he had captured this Divine-Shaman alive.

Yet the reality before him now made him harbor some doubts.

The time and location given by the Pavilion Grand Elder should not be wrong.

But could this boy before him truly be the Wilderness shaman?

The Huá Clan had previously circulated a portrait. The person in the portrait did resemble this youth in facial features, but their temperaments were completely different.

Moreover, portraits were often unreliable as evidence.

Everyone was a cultivator—methods to “change one’s appearance” were far too many. Relying on a single face made it hard to reach a conclusion.

Not to mention changing faces—even changing bodies or flesh and blood was nothing unusual.

Mo Hua’s face did indeed somewhat resemble the face of the “Divine-Shaman.”

But the question was: was Mo Hua truly that “person”?

If so… why would the gods favor him?

What was truly different about his Sea of Consciousness?

How could a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator gain divine favor and stir up such massive upheaval in the Great Wilderness?

Did he still harbor deeper, hidden secrets?

A Foundation Establishment cultivator could never accomplish such feats on his own—there had to be a black hand behind the scenes.

And who exactly was this “black hand”?

What scheme did they have in placing the “Divine-Shaman” as a chess piece in the Great Wilderness?

And how much did this young man himself actually know?

Was he a pure puppet, completely ignorant?

Or a puppet with some degree of agency, aware of certain secrets?

The robed cultivator rubbed the jade slip in his hand, cold light flickering in his eyes.

“This boy is most likely one favored by the gods… whether he knows anything or how much he knows, he is extremely useful.”

“Once his injuries recover a bit, we’ll ‘slice’ him little by little—starting from flesh and blood, to bones, and finally the Sea of Consciousness—studying him bit by bit…”

“We will excavate all the secrets of his Divine Dao…”

…

Inside the prison.

Mo Hua felt an icy chill throughout his body. He didn’t know whether it was because the prison was too gloomy, or because, on the level of Causality, there was an extremely imminent danger closing in.

He tried to move his Divine-Sense.

But within his Sea of Consciousness, it was a complete muddle—he couldn’t recall anything at all.

Mo Hua felt like his entire self had turned into an “idiot.”

He knew clearly in his heart that this was likely an “aftereffect” of his failed Golden Core breakthrough.

When he was breaking through, his Golden Core had only just condensed when it encountered a great karmic killing calamity and shattered on the spot. Along with it, some Divine-Sense, spiritual power, and origin that had fused into the Golden Core were completely drained away.

With his Divine-Sense collapsing, his memories were damaged as well, and many past events in his mind became even more blurred.

Mo Hua calmed his breathing and focused his mind, unable to resist asking himself:

“What’s my name again?”

“My name is…”

He meditated for a very, very long time, and finally, from memories that had been shattered for a long time, dug out a name:

“Mo Hua.”

It was a name that carried warmth, along with much happiness and sorrow.

But now, this name had become extremely heavy.

So heavy that it made him feel slightly unable to breathe.

Linked to this name were also countless memories—good and bad, sweet and bitter, sour and painful, and even some dark and sinister ones.

People bound by karma, faces one after another, resurfaced in Mo Hua’s mind…

Thus Mo Hua lay in the prison, lingering on the edge of despondent failure, thinking for a very, very long time, until at last he gradually recalled his entire past.

A long-missed, sour sense of nostalgia spread through his heart.

This was longing for family, for teachers, for senior and junior brothers and sisters.

This was vivid and intense emotion belonging to a “human.”

An emotion that, after Mo Hua became the Divine-Shaman, had not surfaced in his heart for a very, very long time.

These emotions were both unfamiliar and deeply familiar, accumulating in his chest, making his heart ache and feel warm at the same time—complex and hard to put into words.

Mo Hua remained silent for a long time, then slowly understood.

His divinity, together with his Golden Core, had shattered.

And it seemed to have been further suppressed by some method used by the Huá Clan.

Once divinity was extinguished, the heart-nature would inevitably be left hollow. To fill that void, the humanity that had once been suppressed by divinity gradually revived.

In other words, he was no longer “God · Mo Hua,” but had become “Human · Mo Hua” once more.

He was no longer that cold, majestic, high-above-all Divine-Shaman of the Great Wilderness.

He was truly, simply “Mo Hua” again.

For a moment, Mo Hua felt a little lost, yet also a little relieved.

In a certain sense, this was also a good thing.

If he had condensed a Golden Core through divinity, through the karma of the “Divine-Shaman,” Mo Hua didn’t even know what he might become in the future.

Now that all of it had shattered, he could abandon divinity and return to being “human” once again.

Misfortune is where fortune leans; fortune is where misfortune lurks.

That saying really did make sense…

Truly powerful cultivators were all those with unyielding hearts, tempered by countless setbacks.

But even so, when he thought of the Golden Core he had painstakingly condensed—shattering before it even fully took shape—Mo Hua’s heart still ached unbearably.

It took him quite a while before he recovered.

Mo Hua recalled everything he had seen that day atop the Straw Dog—the various karmic manifestations—and engraved them deep in his heart.

There was an Azure Dragon, the Seven Stars, a Dragon Sparrow, a Devouring Python, a Brocade Tiger, Golden Scales, a Bronze Cauldron, a White Jade Seal…

“These are the ones who ruined my Golden Core condensation… I’ve written this debt down.”

“If one day I reach Feather Ascension, or even the Profound-Hollow-Void, I’ll come collect from every single one of you.”

“If I can’t reach the Profound-Hollow-Void…”

Mo Hua fell silent for a moment, then thought quietly to himself:

“Then let’s pretend none of this ever happened… I, a magnanimous man, won’t hold grudges against petty people—consider you all spared…”

After that, Mo Hua mobilized his weak Divine-Sense and performed an inner inspection, checking the condition of his physical body.

The situation wasn’t optimistic, but it wasn’t beyond saving either.

At least his Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone, his Taotie spiritual skeleton, and the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation were intact.

This was also thanks to his thorough preparations and swift reaction—at the instant his Golden Core condensation failed, he swallowed pills to save himself.

At the same time, the bigger reason was likely the “Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation.”

When the Golden Core failed and his body fell into chaos, the Yin-Wood qi helped him “cling to life,” and afterward continued to nourish his meridians and repair the injuries within his body.

Otherwise, his current condition would only be far worse.

He then glanced around and discovered that his storage pouch was no longer on him.

He didn’t know whether it had been destroyed, or taken away by that Feather Ascension True Person of the Huá Clan.

Mo Hua thought back for a moment.

Inside the storage pouch were indeed some precious formation diagrams, some notebooks, and quite a number of spirit stones.

But the truly core items—just to be safe—had all been transferred, before his attempt at forming the Golden Core, into the Storage Ring his master had given him.

The Storage Ring was bound to his bloodline; others could not see it.

It was a treasure his master had given him.

And thankfully so. Otherwise, with this failed condensation and being captured by a powerful enemy, all the secrets and formations he had collected over so many years would have been snatched away.

Mo Hua let out a sigh of relief, gratitude filling his heart toward his master.

But…

The Storage Ring was still in his possession, and all his collections and treasures were preserved.

Yet… what about forming the Golden Core?

Having failed once, when would he ever be able to attempt Core Formation again?

This time, his attempt had been ruined by a bunch of damned big shots—what about the next time?

What if, next time, those mysterious, heaven-defying Heavenly Secrets experts, whose cultivation reaches the heavens, came again to mess with him—what then?

He was only at Foundation Establishment; how could he withstand such a lineup…

In the history of the cultivation world, who knew if there had ever been another Foundation Establishment cultivator who, during Golden Core condensation, was encircled and assassinated by so many big shots through karma…

Mo Hua let out a deep sigh.

“Maybe I should prepare a few more straw dogs… I wonder if that would help…”

But now, this was no longer a matter of straw dogs or Core Formation at all.

He had fallen into the hands of the Huá Clan—he was now a “prisoner” of the Huá Clan.

The Huá Clan would certainly not let him go.

This, Mo Hua understood better than anyone.

Back in the Great Wilderness, when he acted as the Divine-Shaman, how many members of the Huá Clan had he caused to die, how many resources and inheritances had he seized from them, how much of their business had he ruined…

No one knew these things more clearly than he did.

The Huá Clan surely wished to chop off the Divine-Shaman’s head, flay his skin, eat his flesh, and drink his blood.

“First… figure out a way to survive in the hands of the Huá Clan…”

Mo Hua sighed softly.

…

In the days that followed, Mo Hua’s life was, unexpectedly, not too bad.

The Huá Clan did not treat him harshly; they even replenished his blood and healed his injuries.

Gradually, they even gave him a certain amount of space.

At first, Mo Hua had been firmly restrained on an iron bed with all kinds of talismans, formations, instruments of punishment, and chains.

Later, as his injuries improved somewhat, the iron bed was removed, and he was merely confined within the prison.

That Feather Ascension True Person of the Huá Clan would also come by from time to time to see him, say a few words, ask a few questions—but never forced Mo Hua to answer.

Later on, he stopped even asking questions at all, as if he had completely forgotten about the matter, and as if he did not regard Mo Hua as a “prisoner” whatsoever.

Yet in Mo Hua’s heart, his vigilance only grew stronger.

In terms of karmic causality, he always had an intuition that he was being “fattened up for the slaughter.”

One day, the butcher’s blade would surely descend upon his head.

Because of this, Mo Hua became even more careful and cautious.

He also did not know whether the Huá Clan had truly confirmed that he was the Divine-Shaman.

But at the very least, on the surface, he had to think of every possible way to sever all ties with the Great Wilderness.

His divinity had shattered, yet some of the Divine-Shaman’s “bad habits” still lingered—such as liking to look at people coldly, carrying himself a bit too loftily, being aloof and taciturn, indifferent to everything… all these bad habits had to be corrected as soon as possible.

He had to cut himself off from the identity of the “Divine-Shaman.”

The Divine-Shaman is the Divine-Shaman.

Mo Hua is Mo Hua.

What does the Divine-Shaman of the Great Wilderness have to do with me, Mo Hua?