Chapter 1165: Black-Horn Barbarian Armor
In the days that followed, Mo Hua began serving as a "Teacher" to the barbarian children, teaching them writing, the principles of being a good person, the fundamentals of cultivation, and the basics of formation arrays.
Thus, within the Great Wilderness, Mo Hua gained yet another identity.
Eight days later, Elder Jiaohu came to see Mo Hua.
Inside the spacious tent, Mo Hua was in the middle of instructing the children on cultivation.
Elder Jiaohu bowed his head in greeting, sneaking a few glances sideways. When he saw that the Black-Horn children hadn't been eaten, killed, or sacrificed by Mo Hua, but were instead dressed in clean clothes, quietly listening to the lesson, respectfully addressing Mo Hua as "Teacher"—his heart was filled with a mixture of emotion and relief.
Mo Hua looked up and, upon seeing Elder Jiaohu, said to the children:
"What I just taught you—review it among yourselves."
"Yes, Teacher," the children responded in unison.
Mo Hua rose and walked to the adjacent council chamber.
Elder Jiaohu immediately followed closely behind. Once inside, he bowed and said:
"Reporting to Lord Shaman, this old servant has completed the forging of the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor as requested."
In the Great Wilderness, slavery existed, and the barbarian cultivators saw themselves as servants of their gods. Thus, after recognizing Mo Hua's identity, Elder Jiaohu began referring to himself as "this old slave."
Mo Hua, however, disliked the word "slave."
But for now, the time wasn't right to correct it—his power and influence weren't yet strong enough. He still needed to maintain his persona as a Great Wilderness Shaman to avoid raising suspicion.
"Let me see it," Mo Hua said calmly.
Elder Jiaohu took out the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor, painstakingly forged by him and several tribal artisans, and presented it to Mo Hua.
Mo Hua examined it carefully and nodded slightly.
The so-called "barbarian armor" was just the local term in the Great Wilderness—it was, in essence, still a type of battle armor used by cultivators.
Although the basic forging principles were similar, due to regional differences, material sources, and variation in cultivation traditions, this barbarian armor was significantly different from the Daoist armaments and armor commonly used in the Dao Court's Nine Provinces.
The first major difference lay in the materials.
Daoist armors also used demon beast parts, but the majority of the structure was made from metals like gold, silver, and steel.
Barbarian armor, on the other hand, was predominantly composed of materials harvested from demon beasts.
In a sense, barbarian armor was more like a layer of artificially crafted "demonic hide" or "demonic bone."
Their formation patterns were also vastly different.
Daoist armor typically utilized formations based on the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams.
Barbarian armor, however, usually used formations of the Four Symbols (Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise), or broader patterns based on beasts and monsters.
Like Daoist armor, barbarian armor came in many types:
There were lightweight bone armors, flexible leather armors, and heavy yet tough heavy bone armors. Additionally, some tribal inheritance armors possessed fantastical, even legendary, powers.
The "Black-Horn Barbarian Armor" Elder Jiaohu forged, according to Mo Hua's blueprint, was supposed to be a type of heavy bone armor.
The problem? Heavy bone armor required vast materials—typically the bones of fierce, giant demon beasts. The forging process was more complex and technically demanding.
The Black-Horn Tribe simply didn't have the resources.
And Elder Jiaohu didn't have the skills to match.
As a result, what he ultimately produced was a single set of black-colored, somewhat solemn-looking light bone armor.
While it wasn't anything outstanding on its own, given the limited resources and harsh conditions, Mo Hua was already quite satisfied with the result.
He nodded. "Not bad."
Elder Jiaohu let out a long breath of relief and bowed:
"This humble one was only able to forge such fine armor thanks to the detailed and complete blueprint gifted by Lord Shaman."
This was, without a doubt, the finest Black-Horn armor Elder Jiaohu had ever forged in his entire life.
Of course, he also understood that in front of such a noble and discerning Shaman, this was still merely "a humble offering."
"Lord Shaman… there is one more matter…" Elder Jiaohu hesitated. "No one in the Black-Horn Tribe knows how to inscribe the formation on this armor."
Mo Hua nodded. "That's fine."
He then pulled out a formation brush, dipped it in ink, and casually made a few strokes.
Just like that, a Four Symbols Black-Horn Array was inscribed onto the armor—carved with such precision on the Black-Horn bone plate, it looked as though it had been sculpted with knife and chisel.
Elder Jiaohu didn't even catch how it happened.
It was as if Mo Hua had merely waved his hand, and the brush itself moved naturally—ink flowing like a serpent, condensing into a profound, intricate formation without flaw.
Elder Jiaohu was awestruck. In his heart, he felt that this young Shaman before him possessed powers bordering on the divine.
With utmost reverence, he bowed and said, "Lord Shaman is truly wise and mighty."
Mo Hua couldn't quite tell if Elder Jiaohu genuinely believed that, or if he was just buttering him up.
Either way, it didn't matter. As a high and mighty Shaman, it was only natural to be flattered.
After a moment of thought, Mo Hua summoned Little Zha-Tu and instructed:
"Go fetch Wusha, the chieftain of the Wulu Tribe."
"Yes, Teacher."
Xiao Zha-Tu nodded and hurried off. Before long, he returned with Wusha, who still reeked of blood.
Wusha approached Mo Hua, placed his right hand over his chest, bowed, and said, "Lord Shaman."
Only then did he look up.
The moment he caught sight of the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor beside Mo Hua, his eyes lit up with an explosive gleam.
"Lord Shaman, this is—?!"
Mo Hua's gaze sharpened slightly. "You want it?"
Wusha nodded, dropped to one knee, his eyes wild like a wolf's, and earnestly pleaded:
"I beg Lord Shaman to bestow this barbarian armor upon me! Wusha will surely fight for you, sweeping through the battlefield, invincible!"
Mo Hua was a bit surprised.
By his estimation, any barbarian cultivator would deTeachere their own barbarian armor. But he hadn't expected that even Wusha, the chieftain of the Wulu Tribe, would deTeachere it so desperately—so much so that he'd kneel and beg for it.
Mo Hua's thoughts turned, and he suddenly recalled: none of the barbarian cultivators in the Wulu Tribe wore any armor.
That meant, in the barbarian tribes, "barbarian armor" was actually rare?
Perhaps even rarer than he had imagined?
Why...
Was it because barbarian cultivators were crude and focused only on killing, neglecting crafting and other cultivation arts, so few of them could forge armor?
Or was it that the inheritance of barbarian armor was itself extremely rare?
Or maybe, "barbarian armor" held symbolic meaning among barbarian cultivators—something not just anyone had the right to wear?
Mo Hua suppressed these questions for now, planning to verify them later.
He couldn't ask directly.
After all, as the royal court's "Shaman," he was supposed to be deeply familiar with barbarian history and the origin of barbarian armor.
If he asked about these "common knowledge" topics, it would surely raise suspicion—and harm the air of omniscient mystery he had cultivated.
Mo Hua glanced at Wusha and said solemnly, "This precious and incomparable barbarian armor, I now bestow upon you."
"But remember—this gift comes from the Divine Lord."
"From now on, you must wage war for the Divine Lord without the slightest wavering. If your heart strays even once, this divine gift will become a divine punishment, destroying your soul and denying you reincarnation."
Wusha's expression turned solemn. Kneeling before Mo Hua, he declared:
"Wusha shall remember your teachings, Lord Shaman. I vow to dedicate my life to the Divine Lord!"
Mo Hua nodded and handed the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor to Wusha, commanding with gravitas:
"Put on this armor. Take your tribesmen. Go to war for the Divine Lord."
"If you achieve military merit, I will reward you further—with more barbarian armor."
"Then your tribesmen too may receive the Divine Lord's blessing."
Wusha was ecstatic. He immediately responded:
"My Wulu Tribe shall charge through fire and blood for the Divine Lord, never retreating!"
Mo Hua nodded. "You may go."
Wusha, cradling the Black-Horn Barbarian Armor, left profusely grateful.
Off to the side, Elder Jiaohu's expression was uneasy—filled with indignation and frustration.
Mo Hua glanced at him. "Elder Jiaohu, do you have any objections?"
Elder Jiaohu bowed and said, "I dare not." But after speaking, he couldn't suppress the resentment in his heart and added:
"The Black-Horn Barbarian Armor is the war armor of our Black-Horn Tribe. It is the legacy of our ancestors. It is our honor."
"The lowly scum of the Wulu Tribe—carrying filthy, impure, foreign blood—are unworthy to wear the armor of my Black-Horn Tribe. It's a disgrace!"
Elder Jiaohu was seething with righteous indignation.
Mo Hua's eyes flickered. He roughly understood.
In the Great Wilderness, barbarian armor was indeed tied to tribal bloodlines and heritage. It symbolized a tribe's history and glory.
Not every tribe could pass it down.
Some seemingly powerful tribes, even if temporarily prosperous, were nothing more than "nouveau riche."
Without ancestral "glory" and inheritance, they couldn't forge quality barbarian armor—nor even qualify to wear it.
Barbarian armor wasn't just equipment to boost strength—it was also a symbol of identity and honor.
That's why these barbarian cultivators treated their armor like their lives.
And for that reason, seeing the meticulously crafted, symbolic Black-Horn armor given to a Wulu chieftain—it was no wonder Elder Jiaohu felt bitter and furious.
Mo Hua said, "All of this is for the Divine Lord."
Elder Jiaohu bowed. "Yes." But clearly, he still held a grudge in his heart.
Mo Hua gave him a glance and said flatly, "The armor of your Black-Horn Tribe is substandard."
At that, Elder Jiaohu instinctively flared up in anger. But realizing it was the expert Shaman speaking—a master of sacred inscriptions—he felt a mix of shame and dejection.
"Lord Shaman is absolutely right..."
Mo Hua shook his head. "...But I believe your Black-Horn Tribe's armor should be better than this."
Elder Jiaohu was stunned.
Mo Hua continued slowly, "In our barbarian history, your Black-Horn Tribe once stood tall and heroic..."
That line was pure nonsense.
As a Dao Court cultivator, Mo Hua knew next to nothing about barbarian history—he had only heard of the Black-Horn Tribe a few days ago.
But coming from the esteemed Shaman, these words deeply moved Elder Jiaohu.
Mo Hua went on, "But as your tribe declined, most of the inheritance of the Black-Horn Armor was lost."
"That is why I let Wusha wear this armor—to conquer in all directions, and reclaim the inheritance your Black-Horn Tribe has lost."
"Later, I will personally take action—tracing the roots, restoring the forging methods of the Black-Horn Armor, and unifying them into a true ancestral-grade Black-Horn Barbarian Armor."
"When that time comes, I will bestow that ancestral armor upon the mightiest warrior of your tribe—who shall wear it in battle, and bring glory back to the Black-Horn name..."
Mo Hua's voice was calm, every word steady.
But Elder Jiaohu was beyond moved. His eyes were red, and he was visibly trembling.
Every word from Mo Hua shook him to his core.
He had just been shown a path—a future he had never dared to dream of. One worth devoting his life to.
Ancestral barbarian armor—restored glory!
Elder Jiaohu knelt, thud thud thud—three heavy kowtows, as if wishing he could offer his very heart:
"Jiaohu shall give everything for Lord Shaman—until death!"
Mo Hua nodded and instructed, "The forging of barbarian armor, I leave to you."
"All manpower and materials you need—I will provide. Just be sure to forge more Black-Horn Armor in the shortest time possible."
"Yes, my lord."
Elder Jiaohu left, burning with devotion.
Mo Hua let out a small breath of relief. One matter—settled.
If he didn't step in, Wusha and the others would have to rely entirely on armor to win battles. Even just one or two sets of second-grade armor worn by elite fighters like Wusha would be enough to give them a solid edge in battles across the second-grade mountain realms.
The more armor, the stronger the army—the greater the odds of victory.
And as for Elder Jiaohu—he might not be loyal to Mo Hua, but he was certainly loyal to the Black-Horn Tribe.
As long as the future of the Black-Horn Tribe was tied to his grand plans, Elder Jiaohu would naturally give his all, devoting himself entirely to forging barbarian armor.
But there was one thing Mo Hua hadn't expected.
Although Elder Jiaohu was now loyal and had poured all his focus into forging armor...
His comprehension wasn't great.
His craftsmanship was also, frankly, behind the times.
As a result, the forging process was slow, and the quality of the armor left much to be deTeachered.
Either the production was too slow, or the armor had flaws and was prone to damage.
With no better option, Mo Hua handed over the "Sword Bone" to Elder Jiaohu.
Elder Jiaohu stared at the eerie fragment of white bone in front of him, feeling a chill creep over him.
"Shaman Lord, this is...?"
Mo Hua paused, thought for a moment, then solemnly replied:
"This is a terrifyingly powerful demonic swordmaster, one who merged his sword with his Dao and fell into devilry. He was later subdued and sealed into this White Bone Broken Sword by the Divine Lord himself..."
"For forging and armoring matters, you can consult with it."
Inside the White Bone Broken Sword, the so-called "Sword Demon," known as Jian Gutou, had a rather complicated feeling.
"An extraordinarily powerful demonic swordmaster"… was that supposed to be him?
He couldn't tell whether Mo Hua was praising or mocking him.
After all, around Mo Hua, he was little more than a glorified sidekick.
At most, he was occasionally useful when Mo Hua wanted to eat a barbarian god or sneak into an altar—then Jian Gutou would open a path, lead the way, or guard the door.
Outside of that? He didn't even dare breathe loudly, lest he attract Mo Hua's attention when the man was hungry and get used as a toothpick…
But Elder Jiaohu didn't know any of that.
He respectfully accepted the White Bone Broken Sword with both hands, and after sensing it closely, he indeed felt an intense, terrifying aura of demonic power.
His awe and reverence for Mo Hua—and for the Divine Lord—deepened to a fervent level.
"This old servant shall not fail Shaman Lord's trust, nor the Divine Lord's favor."
And so, Mo Hua temporarily handed over Jian Gutou to Elder Jiaohu.
In his past life, Jian Gutou had been the Elder of Sword Forging in the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons. Before that, he had been a forging disciple of the Tai'e Sect.
His skill in crafting weapons was exceptionally profound.
Moreover, since the Valley of Ten Thousand Demons was full of demon cultivators, he had long been familiar with the use of beast materials in forging.
So having Jian Gutou guide Elder Jiaohu in forging barbarian armor was more than sufficient.
It was also a good way to wring some usefulness out of him.
And Jian Gutou, naturally, did not dare slack off under Mo Hua's orders.
Thus, in a hidden cavern within the Black-Horn Tribe, a barbarian elder and a sword demon sealed in a bone sword became obsessed with the art of forging, delving deep into the secrets of crafting armor in the Great Wilderness.
With the "guidance" of this powerful demonic swordmaster, Elder Jiaohu's forging skills steadily improved.
The armor-crafting process grew more streamlined.
More and more sets of Black-Horn barbarian armor were forged.
Mo Hua began experimenting—he had Wusha, the chief of the Wulu Tribe, and several of the Wulu Tribe's Foundation Establishment elders don the armor and begin "campaigns" for him.
When they conquered new tribes, they were not to slaughter indiscriminately. But the Wulu warriors who fought would be entitled to extra spoils.
Of course, the best reward… was still the Black-Horn Barbarian armor.
Rewards were necessary.
Wusha was like a wild wolf—he needed "meat" to be motivated.
The Wulu Tribe was the same. In fact, not just the Wulu Tribe—most barbarian clans shared this nature.
What Wusha had said before was true: expecting them to conquer other tribes, while forbidding them from looting or pillaging and giving them no benefits in return, was not a long-term solution.
The title and authority of a Shaman might be enough to suppress them temporarily—but not forever.
If you didn't feed them some meat, the moment things went slightly awry during a campaign, those barbarian warriors could turn and rebel.
But constantly feeding them wasn't an option either.
Wolves, after all, could never be truly tamed.
If driven by profit, they would stay—if the profit vanished, so would their loyalty.
A foundation built purely on personal gain could crumble at any moment.
So the root of the problem had to be addressed.
A generation of children had to be nurtured from the ground up—children with true hearts for the Dao, with vision, ambition, and high aspirations. Only when they grew strong and capable could they govern the wilderness, and from the bottom up, bring lasting change to the barbarian lands.
The more such children there were, the greater the influence on the land—and the more powerful the force of change they could unleash.
Of course, this would be a long process.
"Ten years to grow trees, a hundred years to raise people."
But just because it would take time, didn't mean it shouldn't be done.
Quick results usually only treated symptoms.
True solutions? They always took time.
This became one of the most important things to Mo Hua after stepping into the "shadows" to manipulate the greater game.
From then on, the forging of barbarian armor was left to Elder Jiaohu.
The external campaigns were entrusted to Wusha.
And Mo Hua himself dedicated most of his time to "imparting the Dao and teaching the Way"—instructing the children of the barbarian lands in cultivation, skills, and inner refinement.
This was a philosophy he had absorbed from strict instruction under Master Zhuang and Elder Xun of the Taixu Sect.
"The Great Dao is like water—flowing, never stagnant."
True knowledge, wisdom, and principles must be passed down to as many people as possible.
Once, it had been others teaching him, and he had called them "Teacher."
Now, it was he who taught others—and they called him "Teacher."
And when Wusha went to war, Mo Hua gave him a strict command:
No killing children.
Not only could he not kill them—all children of conquered tribes were to be brought back and handed over to Mo Hua.
Thus, as Wusha—clad in Black-Horn Barbarian Armor—continued expanding across the second-grade Black-Horn Mountain Realm, conquering tribe after tribe…
The number of children under Mo Hua's care steadily grew.
And more and more of them began calling him…
"Teacher."
(End of this Chapter)