Chapter 1163: Infighting and Suppression
After unifying and naming the Wutu Mountain Realm, the mysterious Lord Shaman, Mo Hua, became the de facto ruler of all the tribes within it.
The chaos in Wutu Mountain Realm subsided—slightly.
With his hands finally freed, the first thing Mo Hua did was improve the livelihoods of the barbarian cultivators in the tribes.
The wealth and food of most tribes were gathered and redistributed, ensuring that during these years of disorder, every barbarian—whether old, weak, women, or children—could have at least one meal to survive.
In addition, Mo Hua organized the barbarian cultivators into several beast-hunting teams.
Each team was led by a Foundation Establishment cultivator, sent into the mountains to hunt spirit beasts and stockpile meat.
The hunted meat was categorized into two types.
Herbivorous spirit beast meat was reserved for children and the elderly.
Carnivorous spirit beasts were eaten only by able-bodied adult barbarians.
Carnivorous beasts, having fed on human flesh, carried strong bloodthirsty stench, resentment, and Slaughter Qi in their flesh.
Overeating this kind of meat caused severe side effects—mental instability, shortened lifespans, and cultivation mishaps.
Therefore, children could not eat such meat, lest it stunted their development.
Elderly were too frail; even a breath gone wrong could mean death.
Only robust adult barbarians could eat them. As natives of the Wilds, they had built up a degree of resistance after years of consumption.
These problematic meats were for them—and only them.
In a place like the Great Wilderness, survival alone was already fortunate. There wasn't much room to be picky.
Mo Hua also improved the cooking methods for such beast meat.
In these parts, crafting techniques were backward, materials scarce, and decent stoves were simply not an option.
Mo Hua could only construct a few large cauldrons, inscribing Melting Fire Arrays and Purifying Fire Arrays at the bottom to partially expel the beastly aura, reduce the stench, and retain nutrients—so the barbarians could eat without worry.
He also sourced local spices.
While the taste wasn't exactly gourmet, it was leagues better than before.
Beyond meat, Mo Hua selected a slightly more fertile plot of land in the valley. Using the Earth-Nourishing Array to connect with the Dao Rhythms of the earth to enrich the soil, and a few small Cloud-and-Rain Arrays to keep the soil moist, he planted native millet and sorghum.
This way, even in times of disaster or poor hunting, they would have some grains to survive on and avoid starvation.
This farmland was just a trial run.
Mo Hua gave strict orders: it must be protected to the death. Anyone who dared damage it would be executed without mercy.
These measures—once implemented—quickly improved the living conditions for the vast majority of the tribes.
Especially the children who previously went hungry, and the elderly who had been waiting to die—now having food in their bellies, they were endlessly grateful.
As for the able-bodied adults, not only did they eat more meat than before, but the meat—cooked with arrays and methods that reduced its stench and enhanced flavor—won them over. Their faith in Lord Shaman only deepened.
Livelihood is the foundation of everything.
Thanks to Mo Hua's planning, governance, and profound mastery of arrays, Wutu Mountain Realm began to transform completely.
But soon, new conflicts arose.
Among the tribes, deep disagreements remained over whether to truly submit to this "Lord Shaman," Mo Hua.
These disagreements weren't things that could be resolved in the short term.
The cowardly, after witnessing Mo Hua's divine might, dared not resist.
Most remained noncommittal, content to muddle along.
A small number of ambitious ones, seeing Mo Hua amassing wealth and stockpiling food, couldn't help but steal—or even kill to rob.
The thieves came from the Wotai Tribe.
The killers and robbers were from the Wulu Tribe.
There were also others who, inexplicably, deserted without permission.
All of this was a direct provocation to Mo Hua's authority as Lord Shaman.
Mo Hua didn't show the slightest mercy—executing some, punishing others, imprisoning many—and even mass-produced a batch of punishment boards using array formations he had studied back in Qianxue Province. He forced rebellious, thieving, murderous barbarians to kneel and suffer punishment.
Sure enough, the results were immediate.
Terrified by Mo Hua's iron-handed approach and the excruciating array-based torture devices, the barbarians' attitude toward him grew far more respectful.
While they might not be truly loyal inside, none dared to openly defy him anymore—not even the ferocious Wulu Tribe.
But when they stopped defying Mo Hua… they turned on each other.
The internal grudges between tribes ran deep.
Their customs differed, their clan rules clashed, and they had killed and robbed one another in the past. Blood feuds abounded.
Now gathered in one place, conflicts were inevitable.
Even the slightest friction led to outbursts.
More importantly, the tribes each worshipped different barbarian gods.
Different gods preached different doctrines.
Those teachings subtly shaped the minds and divine sense of the barbarian cultivators, gradually assimilating them.
This meant their divine sense—on a fundamental level—was completely different.
Even though Mo Hua had already sneakily "eaten" their barbarian gods…
The imprints left in their divine sense weren't so easily erased.
These ideological differences in their divine sense were essential, irreconcilable.
So, not long after things settled down and they'd enjoyed a few days of full meals, intertribal conflicts started erupting.
Fearful of Mo Hua's power, they stopped short of killing—but insults, brawls, and private skirmishes were common.
There were even incidents of bullying children and assaulting women—morals utterly degraded.
Mo Hua had no choice but to spend more time with the tribal elders to draft stricter tribal laws.
These included: no insults or thievery between tribes and allies, no private fights, and definitely no murder.
Protect the children. Respect the elders.
Do not violate female cultivators of other tribes, and so on.
Violators would be punished by severity—from death penalty, to array punishments, to flogging, to imprisonment, with punishment fitting the crime.
These tribal alliance laws were issued under Mo Hua's name as Lord Shaman and enforced strictly.
For the time being, the chaos was suppressed.
But Mo Hua knew this was just treating the symptoms, not the root.
At their core, barbarian cultivators were a group of "amoral" cultivators.
Yes, there were a few with character—but they were rare.
Like Elder Zhamu—who had studied Witchcraft in major tribes, had traveled outside, and had a more enlightened mind—such people were exceedingly rare.
Most barbarian cultivators were either Wotai thieves or Wulu killers.
In their eyes, beyond eating, drinking, killing, and mating—nothing else mattered.
Barbarians with this kind of character clearly could never accomplish anything meaningful.
Mo Hua honestly didn't want to be the Shaman of these morally bankrupt cultivators—lest it ruin his own reputation in the future.
For the first time in his life, Mo Hua deeply felt the importance of civilization and moral education.
Without it, many of the barbarian cultivators under his command were just beasts that happened to speak human language.
No—worse than beasts. More greedy, more selfish, more cruel.
So, in the name of the Shaman, Mo Hua preached to them about "tribal unity," "allied harmony," "cultivating the mind," "disciplining the self," "strengthening the body," and "striving for the tribe's survival and long-term prosperity"…
But all these words? Fell flatter than a dead frog.
Many barbarians looked at Mo Hua like he was the idiot, not understanding a single thing he was saying.
Even Mo Hua started to feel like a clown.
So, he gave up.
And finally came to understand the truth of that ancient phrase: "The ignorant cannot be taught."
In that moment, Mo Hua even started to question whether his grand plan to unify the Great Wilderness was right in the first place.
A dog can't stop eating shit.
These barbarian cultivators had rotten natures too deeply ingrained.
Could they truly seek the Dao? Could they ever truly be of use to him?
Was he really following the Heavenly Dao by helping them—or was he just raising a bunch of future problems?
His grand ambitions had just begun, and Mo Hua already found himself slipping into the pit of self-doubt.
But he wasn't someone who gave up easily.
Anything worth doing would have difficulties. He just had to overcome them, one step at a time.
If reorganizing the Great Wilderness were easy, someone would've done it already. Why would the opportunity fall to him?
It was because it was hard, that it had value.
Mo Hua nodded slightly and reaffirmed his Dao Heart.
Still, the internal tribal conflicts needed solving.
After careful thought, Mo Hua realized that in the current situation, the tribal tensions—rooted in faith-based spiritual imprint conflicts and total moral decay—couldn't be reconciled.
Unless he killed every last one of them to erase the problem at its root…
Then start from scratch with a new generation of barbarian children—re-educate their minds, reshape their divine sense, and only then would the situation truly change.
But that approach? Also impossible.
So, after much contemplation, Mo Hua was left with only one solution:
External conquest, to redirect the conflict.
Send the barbarian cultivators out to attack other mountain realms and tribes.
With a common enemy and someone else to fight, these barbarians wouldn't waste their energy on infighting.
In truth, "external expansion" had already been part of Mo Hua's broader plan.
Originally, he'd intended to wait until the Wutu Mountain Realm was fully stabilized—internal conflicts settled, barbarians retrained and restructured—then begin the campaign outward.
Pacify within, before striking without.
But now… it was clear this part of the plan needed to be brought forward.
If he didn't launch external campaigns, the internal mess would never sort itself out.
Better to send these barbarians off to fight enemies than to let them murder each other over petty squabbles.
Even if they died—they should die on the battlefield, as warriors—not get stabbed in the back over stolen food or women.
And so, ten days later, Mo Hua gathered and organized a force of 800 barbarian cultivators, and set off on a long march south toward a neighboring mountain realm.
Among the 800, the vast majority were from the Wulu Tribe.
Despite everything, Wulu remained the strongest tribe under Mo Hua's current command.
And Wulu's cultivators… were the most bloodthirsty.
Mo Hua didn't trust leaving them in Wutu Mountain. He feared rebellion.
So for this campaign, he fully mobilized Wulu's core strength.
This included the Wulu chieftain, two high-ranking elders, over ten Foundation Establishment cultivators, and 600 elite Qi Refining barbarian fighters.
They departed Wutu Mountain and headed south, traversing treacherous peaks until they reached a shadowy forest.
The forest was thick with poisonous miasma and spirit beast presence.
Using his divine sense to navigate, Mo Hua eventually located a tribal encampment nestled in the mountain's edge.
It was a small tribe, no more than 500 or 600 barbarian cultivators.
But what surprised Mo Hua was that these barbarians wore leather and bone armor, with demonic runes inscribed upon them—armor that increased protection and resisted blades.
This tribe was called the Blackhorn Tribe.
It was the first time in the entire Three Thousand Great Wilderness that Mo Hua had encountered a tribe that actually resembled barbarian soldiers.
War broke out instantly.
Wulu's side held the advantage in cultivation levels.
But the Blackhorn Tribe had the edge in defense—thanks to their armor.
A fierce battle unfolded. Mo Hua didn't sit back—he hurled several fireballs at critical moments, suppressing the Blackhorn chieftain.
But that chieftain was stubborn to the bone. No matter what Mo Hua said, he chose death over submission.
So the Wulu chieftain chopped off his head.
With the enemy leader slain, the outcome was sealed. The battle ended swiftly.
Wulu lost a few dozen warriors.
Blackhorn lost over a hundred.
The rest had no choice but to surrender.
The surviving Blackhorn warriors were filled with grief and rage.
Many common tribesmen looked utterly devastated. Children bore expressions of fear.
According to the brutal customs of the Wilds, a defeated tribe would become barbarian slaves.
Barbarian slaves were no better than livestock—beaten and killed at will, fated to suffer.
Such was the cruelty of the Wilds.
In this tense, bloody aftermath…
Mo Hua, clad in black Shaman robes and looking solemn and divine despite his youthful face, slowly ascended the high platform in Blackhorn's village plaza, flanked by Wulu warriors still dripping with blood.
The crowd fell utterly silent.
And in this silence, Mo Hua proclaimed that he was a Shaman chosen by the Divine Lord—not here to slaughter, but to bring peace and prosperity to the tribes of the Great Wilderness.
He swore no one would become a barbarian slave.
His voice was calm and clear, carrying a power that soothed hearts.
The once-terrified Blackhorn tribespeople gradually quieted.
Mo Hua then ordered food and grain to be distributed, calming the people.
He commanded the allied forces of Wulu, Wutu, and Wotai to garrison the Blackhorn tribe and set up camp.
All of Blackhorn's wealth and supplies were confiscated and placed under Mo Hua's unified redistribution.
For now, things seemed to settle down.
But by nightfall—trouble struck again.
Several Wulu cultivators snuck into the Blackhorn camp, chopped off a few barbarians' arms, and tried to abuse the Blackhorn women.
Because that's what they were used to—Killing and mating.
First, they killed the men of other tribes, then seized the women for their pleasure.
That's how tribal barbarian cultivators had always behaved.
Sometimes, once their bloodlust was ignited, they simply couldn't control themselves.
Fortunately, Mo Hua's spiritual sense was strong. He discovered it immediately and used a Water Prison technique to bind the few Wulu clan cultivators.
Still, the damage was done.
The Blackhorn Tribe, which had just been pacified, once again showed signs of rebellion.
Mo Hua's gaze turned icy. He considered making another example to set things straight.
But then, the Wulu chieftain personally came to plead with him, bowing and saying:
"Please, Master Shaman, show mercy."
Among the offenders was his own nephew.
Mo Hua knew this too, but he didn't care. He had no intention of being lenient. Even the Wulu chieftain couldn't undermine his authority.
Sensing Mo Hua's cold indifference, the chieftain's heart tensed. He quickly added:
"Master Shaman, please understand, Wusha is not acting out of self-interest, but for the sake of calming the people."
Mo Hua raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
Wusha, the chieftain, replied:
"Master Shaman, in the Great Wilderness, when tribes go to war, it's customary to seize spirit stones, food, and women after victory. Now our Wulu clan followed you to war, clearly won the battle, yet we gain nothing in return."
"And now, we're being punished—some even facing execution."
"Even I, as chieftain, wouldn't dare act like this. If things go on like this, I fear the Wulu people… may rebel."
Mo Hua's expression remained cold as he replied flatly, "Do you think I care?"
Wusha's heart jumped.
Mo Hua spoke coldly, "Do you really think I can't destroy the Wulu clan? That I must rely on you?"
"If the Wulu clan obeys, I'll give you a chance."
"If you don't, I'll simply choose another tribe."
"There are over three thousand tribes in the Great Wilderness. If you don't pledge loyalty, others will."
Wusha's back went cold, his heart pounding.
Seeing that the chieftain now understood fear, Mo Hua's tone softened slightly.
"But the fact that you came to speak with me shows your loyalty. For your sake, I'll spare those clansmen from death."
"However, while they may escape execution, punishment is still due."
"You will personally give them forty lashes. Let this be a warning to others. This matter will be considered resolved."
"But there will be no second chances. If anyone repeats this offense, I will not spare their life."
Wusha immediately bowed. "Master Shaman, your great kindness—I, Wusha, will never forget it."
Mo Hua nodded. "Go."
Wusha prepared to leave but glanced at Mo Hua before departing, as if something was on his mind.
Mo Hua caught the look and asked, "Is there… something you want to ask?"
Startled, Wusha felt that though this Shaman looked young, his eyes were deep, like they could pierce through one's soul.
Under Mo Hua's gaze, Wusha didn't dare hide anything. He asked in a low voice, "Master Shaman… are you perhaps not from the Great Wilderness?"
Mo Hua was mildly alarmed inside, but outwardly calm. "Why do you ask?"
Wusha replied, "Your ways don't resemble those of people from the Great Wilderness. And the water and fire techniques you use… they don't seem like our tribal witchcraft. They resemble… the cultivation arts of the Central Lands."
He bowed his head.
Mo Hua neither confirmed nor denied, only saying calmly, "Everything I possess is granted by the Divine Lord. All things are arranged by the Divine Lord."
Wusha placed his fist over his chest and saluted. "Yes. Wusha spoke out of turn. Please forgive me, Master Shaman."
Mo Hua waved his hand. "It's fine. Go."
Wusha respectfully replied, "Yes. I shall go administer the lashes to those criminals to establish authority."
He then turned and left.
Mo Hua, however, slowly sank into thought.
Though Wusha was quite calculating, his words had served as a reminder.
He could no longer use his spells so casually.
In fact, from now on, the less he acted personally, the better.
The more he made a move, the more traces he'd leave behind—evidence that could eventually be noticed by others and lead to his identity being exposed.
Not only could his identity as a Shaman be questioned—
He could even be inviting death.
More importantly, the things he was doing here in the Great Wilderness were far from noble. If he acted too often and was exposed, he'd leave behind a trail of "black history."
If someone followed that trail and uncovered his true identity, he'd be finished.
A cultivator from the Dao Court, sneaking into the Great Wilderness to "build merit and achievements"...
Not only would he earn the eternal hatred of the Wilderness Royal Court,
He'd also be branded by the Dao Court as a "traitorous rebel," and officially added to the wanted list.
Therefore, he had to keep a low profile from now on—remain hidden in the shadows, and play the symbolic role of a "Master Shaman" who ruled without getting his own hands dirty.
If he could avoid taking action personally, then he absolutely would.
All the fighting and killing—let the underlings handle that.
Having made up his mind, Mo Hua nodded slightly.
That night, under the cover of darkness, he went to the Blackhorn Tribe's altar. Using the sacrificial ritual he'd learned from the Blackhorn elders, he entered the dream realm of the barbarian god—and met the god of the Blackhorn Tribe.
This barbarian god took the form of a black ox with one broken horn.
The creature was brimming with sinister energy—clearly not some benevolent deity.
But what surprised Mo Hua was just how powerful this Blackhorn God actually was. Its cultivation was even slightly stronger than the blood-red Wolf God of the Wulu tribe.
Mo Hua killed it with a single punch.
Then he used an array formation to refine its broken divine body and absorb its spiritual power.
After a while, his divine sense suddenly cleared—like a great river breaking free, surging without end.
Mo Hua was momentarily stunned to realize that after devouring the Blackhorn God, the bottleneck in his spiritual sense had suddenly been broken through.
His divine sense had now officially reached the twenty-second mark.
(End of this Chapter)