Chapter 1164: Teacher
Late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation, with Divine Sense at the level of a twenty-two-pattern Golden Core.
With the breakthrough past the bottleneck, his Sea of Consciousness expanded, and after stabilizing his Divine Sense, Mo Hua could clearly feel his spiritual perception growing stronger again.
Not only was his Sea of Consciousness deeper and more robust, but his Divine Sense was also tougher, more precise in control—and vaguely, his understanding of Golden Core Realm power had deepened as well.
To comprehend the power of the Golden Core Realm while still in the Foundation Establishment Realm…
Even though this power wasn't in the realms of spiritual energy or blood essence, but purely in the Divine Sense, it was still a rare and precious gain—one that would greatly benefit Mo Hua's cultivation.
He even suddenly had an illusion.
That because of his premature, transcendent comprehension of Divine Sense, the bottleneck to forming a core might be significantly less difficult.
Because before his physical body even formed a Golden Core, he already possessed a Divine Sense on par with one.
"Golden Core…"
Mo Hua clenched his pale hand and murmured in his heart:
"Just two more patterns… and I can learn the Gluttonous Pattern, forge the Life-Bound Bone Array, and form my Golden Core…"
"This process has been so long, so exhausting, and has cost too much effort."
"I hope this forbidden Gluttonous Absolute Array of the Great Wilderness doesn't disappoint me…"
"Just two patterns left…"
A light gleamed in Mo Hua's eyes.
He had to admit—after being worshipped by the believers and enjoying incense offerings, the willpower nourished by the Great Wilderness barbarian gods had been unexpectedly effective.
So effective, in fact, that it even surprised Mo Hua.
Divine Sense cultivation was extremely difficult. If not for this, he couldn't have possibly reached twenty-two patterns in such a short time.
This opportunity was extremely rare, and he had to seize it while he could—devour more.
Raise the level of his Divine Sense as quickly as possible.
Only with sufficient Divine Sense could he peer into the endless mysteries of the Gluttonous Absolute Array of the Great Wilderness, and truly comprehend the rules of Golden Core power.
The next day, inside the military tent.
Mo Hua summoned Elder Zha-Mu and said, "Elder Zha-Mu, I have a task for you."
Elder Zha-Mu saluted. "As the Shaman commands."
Mo Hua handed him a stack of parchment and said:
"Go investigate the mountain regions around the Black-Horn Tribe. Record the locations of the nearby tribes, the barbarian gods they worship—their names, origins, and sacrificial methods. Write it all on this parchment and bring it back to me."
"I'll assign some people to protect you. Be cautious."
Elder Zha-Mu respectfully took the parchment, then hesitated for a moment before speaking slowly: "Shaman, may I ask one question?"
Mo Hua nodded. "Go ahead."
Elder Zha-Mu said, "These barbarian gods… they…"
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, not daring to continue.
Mo Hua understood his unspoken concern, and with a solemn expression, said:
"The blessings of the barbarian gods originate from the True God. In the end, they will all return to the source of the True God. This, too, is a form of salvation."
Elder Zha-Mu's expression trembled slightly, and he slowly nodded. "This old one understands."
Cradling the parchment Mo Hua had given him, Elder Zha-Mu departed to "register" the barbarian gods.
Mo Hua then summoned another elder of the Black-Horn Tribe.
The Black-Horn Tribe's chieftain—a hot-tempered, stubborn fool who'd rather die than submit—had already been killed in a previous battle, his head cleaved off by Wusha, the chieftain of the Wulu Tribe.
Aside from the chieftain, the Black-Horn Tribe had five elders.
One was dead. Another had fled. Of the remaining three, the oldest and most knowledgeable was named "Jiaohu."
He was the one Mo Hua had called in for questioning.
Elder Jiaohu's face was full of wrinkles. Upon seeing Mo Hua, he bowed his head and said, "Shaman."
Mo Hua gave him a quick once-over and asked, "Does your Black-Horn Tribe have a method for forging barbarian armor?"
This was a closely guarded secret. Elder Jiaohu kept silent.
Mo Hua's voice turned calm and distant: "The True God's blessings require piety."
"To the impious, the True God shall unleash divine wrath."
"The True God's power touches the heavens. A mere thread of that wrath can reduce the Black-Horn Tribe to ashes."
At these words, Elder Jiaohu was startled. He looked up at Mo Hua's calm and profound gaze, only to feel his Sea of Consciousness pressured, his Divine Sense stinging faintly. He dared not remain silent any longer and respectfully said:
"Yes, our Black-Horn Tribe indeed possesses the method of forging armor."
"Where did you get this method from?" Mo Hua asked.
Elder Jiaohu replied, "It has been passed down within our Black-Horn Tribe since ancient times."
"Since ancient times…" Mo Hua was slightly surprised. "How long is your tribe's history?"
Elder Jiaohu said, "According to our ancestral records, two thousand one hundred years."
Mo Hua nodded slightly.
In the barbaric chaos of the Great Wilderness, where tribes frequently warred and devoured each other, a history of over two thousand years was indeed impressive.
However…
"Your two thousand years of forging… and this is all you've got?" Mo Hua asked, a little curious.
Elder Jiaohu's cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and anger, and he argued:
"This is our incompetence. We failed to restore the glory of our ancestors. We couldn't forge the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor nor raise the Black-Horn Heavy Troops. That's why we lost the war. Even our chieftain met a tragic end, his head severed…"
Mo Hua smiled faintly. "So what you're saying is, I'm your 'tragedy'?"
Elder Jiaohu lowered his head, hatred simmering. "I dare not."
Mo Hua chuckled. "Take me to see your forging grounds."
Elder Jiaohu hesitated a moment, then gritted his teeth. "Yes, Shaman."
He led Mo Hua to the rear mountain of the Black-Horn Tribe, to a sealed cave.
The cave had already been forcibly opened, and everything inside lay exposed.
This had been done during the Wulu Tribe's plundering of the Black-Horn Tribe's resources.
If not for that, Elder Jiaohu definitely would have tried to hide it from Mo Hua—he would never have "invited a wolf into the house" and brought him here.
Inside the cave were some black, tough barbarian armors.
There were also many scattered materials, half-finished leather goods, and armor pieces.
Mo Hua scanned the place briefly, his heart stirring slightly.
He had considered crafting armor for the barbarian troops under his command in the Wutu Mountain Region. But when he tried, it proved unfeasible.
First of all, while he had knowledge of artifact refinement and a decent eye for materials…
He was ultimately not an artifact refiner. Having been frail since childhood, he couldn't even swing a heavy hammer. He lacked hands-on forging experience.
Back in the Great Void Sect, he had always ranked at the bottom in artifact refinement classes.
Thus, he could draw formation diagrams—but couldn't refine weapons himself.
Secondly, artifact refinement in the Great Wilderness was different from that of the Central Plains.
The materials used, the forging techniques, the tempering methods—many were different.
These were things Mo Hua didn't fully understand either.
And in this remote region, he couldn't obtain the necessary materials for refining, so the idea of forging weapons and armor had been shelved—temporarily.
But now, the barbarian armor of the Black-Horn Tribe had given him some inspiration and reference.
Mo Hua walked a full circle through the cave, mentally going over the forging process of the various barbarian armors.
He even casually dismantled a few pieces to examine their internal structure and embedded formation arrays.
Elder Jiaohu watched from the side, wincing in heartache.
These were the most treasured relics of the Black-Horn Tribe.
Now, Mo Hua was poking and tearing them apart as he pleased—how could Jiaohu not feel bitter and pained?
After dismantling and inspecting them thoroughly, Mo Hua asked Elder Jiaohu, "Do you know the method for forging Black-Horn Barbarian Armor?"
Elder Jiaohu replied, "Only a little."
Mo Hua was surprised. "You're an elder and only know a little?"
He had assumed that with his age and seniority, Jiaohu would've mastered the core secrets of the Black-Horn Tribe.
But Elder Jiaohu said, "The forging method is the tribe's most secret inheritance. It was divided into eight parts. The chieftain held the two core parts, I held two, and the remaining four elders each held one part."
"Only by combining all eight pieces can one reconstruct the complete Black-Horn forging method."
He finished with a tone that was part relief, part schadenfreude, and laced with a trace of bitterness:
"Now, the chieftain has been killed by your hands, one elder is dead, and another has fled. The forging method may be lost forever… no one may ever know it again."
"It's fine," Mo Hua said kindly. "If you don't know, I'll tell you."
Elder Jiaohu froze.
He had absolutely no idea what this so-called Shaman meant by that…
Mo Hua pulled out brush and paper, and began sketching a forging diagram—laying out, from start to finish, the full forging process of the Black-Horn Tribe's most classified secret: the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor.
Elder Jiaohu watched from the side, growing more and more shocked. A storm surged within his chest, until finally he couldn't help but exclaim:
"This—! You… how do you know this!?"
Mo Hua's expression was unreadable.
It was all right there, plain as day—he wasn't sure what Elder Jiaohu was even so shocked about.
Mo Hua ignored him and kept sketching.
At the end, he even added the Four Symbols Ox-Horn Runes that were embedded in the armor's array design.
Those few complex Four Symbols Ox-Horn Runes completely shattered Elder Jiaohu's inner pride and long-held beliefs.
He felt as if he had been reduced to a drifting speck of dust.
Finally, he slowly raised his head, no longer merely shocked, but staring at Mo Hua with eyes full of reverence and awe:
"Are you… truly a Shaman?"
Mo Hua raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do I not look the part?"
Elder Jiaohu silently observed him.
So young. A face so pale and fair it could rival the moon. Not a single barbarian mark anywhere on his body. How could this possibly be what a Shaman looked like?
At first, he'd assumed this so-called Shaman was just a fraud putting on a show.
It wasn't uncommon.
In the Great Wilderness, every few decades someone would emerge claiming to be a Shaman—it was hard to tell truth from falsehood.
Some of them even sincerely believed they were genuine Shamans.
But the title of Shaman was one of immense honor.
To truly become one was an arduous path.
Real Shamans, once trained, all served the royal court. How could one be wandering around like this?
As for "bringing peace and prosperity"… what a load of nonsense.
And yet…
Elder Jiaohu glanced again at the array runes Mo Hua had drawn, his expression full of awe. He couldn't help but bend low and say with reverence:
"This old one did, indeed, doubt your status as a Shaman…"
"But such profound 'Sacred Runes'—only a true Shaman serving the royal court could possibly draw these…"
Mo Hua's heart stirred.
Sacred Runes…
Did he mean formation arrays?
Then again… no, that didn't seem quite right.
At least, formations based on the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams were never considered "Sacred Runes" by the barbarian tribes.
So perhaps this referred to the native Four Symbols Demon Runes passed down in the Great Wilderness?
Or even more ancient than that—the Four Sacred Beast Runes, from which the Demon Runes were derived?
Mo Hua gave a small nod.
That would make sense.
One could fake a Shaman's title—but not Sacred Runes.
After all, formation arrays were complex. If you couldn't do it, you couldn't fake it. The ability to draw "Sacred Runes" was the most convincing proof.
Plus, now that he thought about it—formation arrays based on the Four Symbols were often considered "demonic" and taboo. Few dared to study them.
Back in Qianxue Prefecture, the only one truly proficient in Four Symbols Demon Runes had been Mister Tu.
The other evil formation masters had, at most, only dabbled in fragments and scraps.
He himself… might really have the qualifications to be a Shaman…
Mo Hua's expression remained calm, saying nothing.
The composed and serene air he exuded was taken in by Elder Jiaohu, further cementing his belief.
Mo Hua asked again, "Is this all there is to Black-Horn Tribe's armor forging technique?"
Elder Jiaohu replied, "Reporting to Lord Shaman, this is all we have."
Seeing Mo Hua's expression turn slightly displeased, Elder Jiaohu hurried to explain:
"Our Black-Horn Tribe was once a great clan, thriving in its prime. Our Black-Horn warriors were feared across the lands. But over the past two thousand years, we gradually declined, our people scattered, and many of our forging traditions were taken by other tribes. That's how we fell into this state…"
Mo Hua nodded slightly, then handed the armor blueprint in his hand to Elder Jiaohu.
"Take this. In ten days, forge three sets of armor for me."
Elder Jiaohu was stunned. "Lord Shaman, you… you're giving this Black-Horn armor blueprint to me?"
"Yes." Mo Hua nodded.
Elder Jiaohu raised the blueprint above his head with both hands, receiving it with trembling fingers.
This was the complete armor blueprint—even the tribe's chieftain had never been permitted to possess it.
"In ten days, I will certainly give Lord Shaman a satisfactory result," he said solemnly.
"Good." Mo Hua nodded.
Just as Elder Jiaohu was preparing to leave with the blueprint in hand, Mo Hua suddenly called out to him.
"One more thing."
Elder Jiaohu froze.
Mo Hua said slowly, "Did you… hide the children of the Black-Horn Tribe?"
Elder Jiaohu was shocked and dropped to his knees. "Lord Shaman…"
But Mo Hua didn't seem angry.
In tribal warfare, it was either survival or destruction. Secretly hiding gifted children as a "seed of hope" was perfectly understandable.
Of course, he didn't blame Elder Jiaohu.
But those children—he had to secure them.
Children were malleable, and those still young, pure-hearted, and gifted… were, to Mo Hua, the most precious of all "treasures."
"Where are the children?" Mo Hua asked.
Elder Jiaohu fell silent.
Even though he already believed Mo Hua to be a true "Lord Shaman," this was still something he didn't dare reveal lightly.
Those children were the future of the Black-Horn Tribe.
And who could say what this young Shaman truly believed in? What god he served? What path he walked?
What if he was like those other twisted Shamans—sacrificing the children, refining them into pills, using them to raise poisons, or even eating them to gain power? Then the Black-Horn Tribe would never rise again.
But when Elder Jiaohu met Mo Hua's penetrating gaze—those eyes that seemed to see straight through hearts—he felt a chill deep in his bones.
The Shaman mentioning the children clearly meant… he already knew where they were.
In other words, the children of the Black-Horn Tribe were already in his grasp.
Elder Jiaohu's face turned pale as he trembled and knelt, unable to form words. All he could say was:
"I beg Lord Shaman… to spare the children's lives…"
Mo Hua sighed quietly in his heart.
He did "eat" barbarian gods, but he didn't eat children.
He said, "Children are the future of the tribe. I will personally teach them. If any of them have outstanding talent, I'll pass on to them the sacred patterns of the Great Wilderness."
Sacred patterns?!
Elder Jiaohu was shaken to the core, struggling to believe it.
Sacred patterns… could those even be passed on?
Did this Lord Shaman really have such divine authority?
Was he lying?
But if he really could teach sacred patterns, then wouldn't this be… a blessing the Black-Horn Tribe hadn't seen in a thousand years?
Still…
Elder Jiaohu's heart was a mix of worry and elation, torn between doubt and hope. After a moment, when he saw Mo Hua growing impatient, he was jolted awake.
At this point, he had no choice left.
With a bitter heart, he kowtowed and said:
"Thank you for your grace, Lord Shaman. I will bring the children immediately…"
Mo Hua nodded.
Elder Jiaohu left and returned shortly, bringing over forty children.
The children were dressed in animal hides, each one filthy, their faces filled with either confusion, grief, or fear.
But without exception, their blood was vigorous, their bodies strong, and their potential promising.
No wonder Elder Jiaohu had gone to such lengths to hide them. His effort for preserving the tribe's future was admirable.
Elder Jiaohu looked at the children, eyes filled with reluctance. He then glanced up at Mo Hua, his expression nervous and uncertain.
Mo Hua simply said, "Don't worry," offering a few words of reassurance before sending him off to forge the Black-Horn armor.
Afterward, Mo Hua instructed Xiao Zha-Tu to take the forty-some Black-Horn children to be washed and cleaned up. He also gave them some food. Only then did he gather them together once more.
With their filth washed away and their stomachs full, the children's emotions gradually settled down.
Coupled with Mo Hua's clear, bright eyes and his gentle, handsome face, the children began to feel a sense of closeness to him.
Mo Hua spoke warmly:
"From now on, you will follow me—to read and learn, to cultivate and temper your minds. Be kind to one another. No insults, no fighting, and no harboring grudges."
"If any of you have good talent and apply yourselves diligently, I will personally teach you the Sacred Patterns."
The children didn't fully understand what "Sacred Patterns" were, but instinctively they knew—it must be an incredibly profound and valuable teaching.
In most barbarian tribes, cultivation simply meant fighting and killing. True cultivation techniques were exceedingly rare.
To be able to read the tribal script, learn techniques, and even study witchcraft—that was something very few ever had access to.
And this "Sacred Pattern" inheritance… that was on a whole other level.
"Yes…"
The children murmured their agreement, voices soft and scattered.
But they didn't know what to call Mo Hua.
Just then, an older and sturdier Black-Horn child—who seemed to already know Mo Hua's identity—stepped forward, clasped his hands, and said:
"Yes, Lord Shaman."
The other children quickly followed, bowing and saying in unison:
"Yes, Lord Shaman… Lord Shaman…"
Mo Hua nodded slightly. After a moment, a thought stirred in his mind, and he said:
"You are different from the others. You don't need to call me 'Lord Shaman.' You may call me…"
"Teacher."
The Black-Horn children were stunned for a second, then quickly bowed their heads and echoed together:
"Yes, Teacher."
(End of this Chapter)