In the Shaman Hall.
Firelight flickered, no one around, utterly silent.
Mo Hua sat alone upon the Shaman's high seat, like a solitary "statue of a god"; the candlelight stretched his pitch-black back into a long shadow.
"My… humanity…"
Mo Hua's gaze gradually grew deep and indifferent; after a moment, the indifference softened.
Yet within this gentleness, there was still only a god's compassion, and none of a man's emotions.
The night wind stirred, the flames quivered; Mo Hua's pupils trembled slightly, and he snapped back to himself. The aloof, god-like detachment in his eyes drew back, becoming a bit more vivid, tinged with a little more "human" color.
At least he now looked somewhat like a "person"…
But Mo Hua's brows slowly knit together.
He realized something was wrong.
Having become a Shaman, exercising divine authority, to a certain extent he was already the "Divine Lord", bearing the faith of the people of the Great Wilderness.
