Chapter 1181: One Sword
Facing danger head-on, offering one's life without fear of death, purging corruption and evil, with heart devoted to the Divine.
If this isn't a Shaman, then what is it?
At this moment, the Golden Core elders of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, the Golden Core Barbarian Commanders, and even the hundred elite barbarian soldiers present all had the same thought: this "Mr. Wu" might truly be a Shaman. Otherwise, how could anyone possess such fearless courage and selfless devotion?
Dan Zhu cared less about the title of "Shaman" and more about Mo Hua's safety.
The stone hall before them was a deathtrap—Golden Core cultivators who entered never returned, dying in misery with their flesh and blood torn apart.
Dan Zhu lowered her voice in persuasion: "Mr. Wu, there's no need to risk your life…"
Mo Hua shook his head. "My mind is set."
Dan Zhu was about to continue persuading him.
Mo Hua, with a compassionate expression, said, "The people of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe are trapped inside the stone hall. The Divine-Lord, in His mercy, has commanded me to save them. This is His will, and my mission."
Dan Zhu was deeply moved.
The other elders and barbarian soldiers of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe were also thoroughly impressed by Mo Hua's compassion and bearing.
"But your cultivation… is only at Foundation Establishment…" Dan Zhu still couldn't rest easy.
Mo Hua replied slowly,
"I've said it before, I am the Divine-Lord's Shaman. All my mighty power comes from His grace.
"As long as faith is devout, there is heaven-reaching divine strength. Whether my cultivation is Foundation Establishment or Golden Core makes little difference…"
His expression was solemn.
Dan Zhu nodded in partial understanding.
Even the seasoned and ruthless barbarian general Chi Feng, at this moment, felt that Mo Hua's words seemed almost believable.
Dan Zhu said solemnly, "Sir, please be very careful."
Mo Hua nodded, then pointed to Iron Shugu standing nearby. "This man will come with me."
Iron Shugu was instantly terrified. "I'm crippled—my limbs are all broken! I can't go! I won't go!"
Mo Hua said calmly, "If you don't go, I'll kill you now."
Iron Shugu knew Mo Hua's "cruelty" all too well and knew he meant it.
The pain in his broken limbs—Mo Hua's handiwork—still lingered. His heart was a mix of hatred and fear. "I can follow you in, but as you can see, my limbs are all broken…"
Mo Hua said, "Just set them back in place and use a crutch."
With determination, no difficulty is insurmountable.
Iron Shugu was speechless.
Two barbarian soldiers from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe came forward, crudely reset his bones, applied herbal medicine, and bound them with bandages.
With a wooden staff for support, Iron Shugu could just barely walk.
After all, he was still a Golden Core cultivator—the foundation of his cultivation was there.
Once preparations were complete, Mo Hua walked step by step toward the deadly stone hall.
The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe members had no idea how excited Mo Hua truly felt inside.
They only saw a man sacrificing himself for others, his small figure now seeming vast and imposing. Even the people of the Bi Fang Tribe were momentarily shocked by his courage, unwilling to block his path.
Bi Jie's gaze toward Mo Hua also showed rare gravity and disbelief.
Thus, under the "gaze of the crowd," Mo Hua, in the exalted bearing of a Shaman, stepped into the Shugu Tribe's stone hall—the forbidden ground where Golden Cores met their end—into an unfathomable darkness.
Limping and unwilling, Iron Shugu followed behind him into the hall.
Then the darkness swallowed their figures.
All sound vanished.
Within the stone gates carved with monstrous bone-beast images, thick evil desire surged, devouring everything.
The barbarians outside could only watch helplessly.
Upon first entering, the surroundings were dim.
Mo Hua's eyes lit up, piercing the darkness, taking in the entire scene.
The stone hall was large, but surprisingly not deep—no long corridors or complex structures.
From the entrance, one could almost immediately see the main hall.
And beneath it, a massive statue of a horned barbarian god.
This was the barbarian god worshipped by the Shugu Tribe.
Now, the statue's bull head was contorted in anger, eyes wide open, emanating a sinister, wrathful aura that sent chills down the spine.
The air carried a mental scent reminiscent of sulfur.
Mo Hua tilted his head up, staring at the statue thoughtfully.
Beside him, Iron Shugu had lowered his head the moment they entered, not daring to look at anything, his body trembling as he knelt.
Mo Hua sighed lightly. "Stop kneeling."
Only then did Iron Shugu dare to raise his head, glancing around timidly. Seeing Mo Hua, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, stand tall and upright, while he—a Golden Core—was cowering on the floor, he realized how improper it seemed.
That shred of Golden Core pride in his heart made him stand up shakily.
"Let's go," Mo Hua said.
He stepped onto the stone path circling before the statue.
Iron Shugu hesitated, then followed.
Along the path, Mo Hua saw the broken remains of Bi Fang Tribe cultivators.
From the traces left, he could tell they must have fallen into some kind of delirious hallucination and madness as soon as they entered, slaughtering each other and even gnawing flesh until they died.
As for the nature of the hallucination…
A few steps later, Mo Hua found one with an intact head and face.
"Hunger…"
His expression shifted. "Is it related to the Great Wilderness famine?"
Farther ahead, more than twenty Bi Fang soldiers lay dead, all in the same state—killed by extreme hunger, mouths full of flesh and blood, the scene a bloody mess.
Even their own bodies had been chewed into gory ruin.
Truly the work of an evil god.
A retching sound came from behind.
Mo Hua turned to see Iron Shugu covering his mouth, looking nauseous.
"You've eaten it before, haven't you? Don't act so pure," Mo Hua said flatly.
After all, this "custom" originated in the Shugu Tribe.
Iron Shugu had no response.
When he'd eaten it, he'd been in a kind of frenzy, finding the flesh delicious. But seeing others do it now, for some reason, made him feel sick.
Mo Hua asked, "You've been here before, haven't you?"
"I… haven't…" Iron Shugu muttered.
But Mo Hua didn't need his answer—just a glance at his eyes and sensing the ripple of his divine sense told him the truth. "You've been here."
A shiver ran down Iron Shugu's spine.
Mo Hua didn't make things difficult for him and simply said: "Lead the way."
Iron Shugu hesitated for a moment, his gaze carrying a trace of malice as he glanced at Mo Hua.
There were clearly no other Vermilion Sparrow Tribe guards nearby, and Mo Hua was only at Foundation Establishment, while he himself was a dignified Golden Core cultivator. Yet, in his heart, Iron Shugu could not muster even the slightest thought of defiance.
It was as if Mo Hua were the Golden Core, and he himself was only Foundation Establishment.
So Iron Shugu obediently led the way.
However, the stone hall's structure was simple, and the path was not complicated—there wasn't much to guide.
In less than the time it took for an incense stick to burn, Iron Shugu brought Mo Hua to the great hall, beneath the statue of the White-Bone Barbarian God.
Beneath the Barbarian God's statue was a spacious grand hall.
Inside were an offering platform and statues of guardian beasts.
At this moment, kneeling before the offering platform was a tall, thin figure, half of whose body was jagged white bone. He had already fallen to the ground, lifeless.
From his clothing and build, it was clearly the other Golden Core Elder of the Bifang Tribe—Elder Zhuo.
Golden Core cultivators possessed stronger divine sense and a greater ability to resist "evil thoughts."
These two Golden Core Elders had held out until they reached the Barbarian God's statue before being completely bewitched by the evil thoughts. "Hunger" devoured their hearts, and they slaughtered and gnawed at each other. Elder Zhuo had died before the statue.
Elder Cang had barely clung to life and escaped to report back to his young master—loyal to the end.
As Mo Hua was scanning the surroundings, he suddenly heard a heavy panting sound. Turning his head, he saw Iron Shugu's expression go blank, his eyes reddening, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The feeling of hunger was spreading in his heart, and his reason was on the verge of collapse.
"Iron Shugu!" Mo Hua's expression was calm as he gave a light shout.
The voice was not loud, but it was like a thunderclap in Iron Shugu's ears.
Iron Shugu's heart jolted, and his mind cleared a little. The inexplicable hunger in his heart also lessened somewhat.
The Bifang Tribe's group could be considered "clean"—never tainted by evil thoughts—so they were like blank paper, with very low resistance.
Basically, the moment they entered the hall, they were possessed. Once possessed, they began eating each other.
Iron Shugu, however, was already "dirty" to begin with.
Ironically, this gave him slightly higher resistance to evil thoughts.
But even so, it was limited. It wouldn't be long before he too would fall into madness like Elder Cang and Elder Zhuo, thinking of nothing but "eating" people.
So they needed to act quickly.
Mo Hua instructed Iron Shugu, "Light the bonfire, perform the ritual, and summon the Barbarian God to descend."
"I don't know how," Iron Shugu replied.
Mo Hua fixed him with a sword-sharp gaze.
Iron Shugu lowered his head, pulled out a fire stone, set up deadwood, and lit the bonfire with practiced ease.
Once the fire roared to life, Iron Shugu glanced back at Mo Hua. "Do I have to eat… something?"
As he spoke, he subconsciously swallowed. According to ritual, at this stage, he should eat "people."
Mo Hua shook his head. "No need. The Bifang Tribe people have already done that for you."
The lingering stench of blood still hung in the air.
The frenzied thoughts of the two Golden Core cultivators and more than twenty Foundation Establishment cultivators gnawing on each other had not yet dispersed.
Iron Shugu looked disappointed.
"You can dance now," Mo Hua said.
"Dance?" Iron Shugu was stunned, glancing at his broken—and only just reattached—limbs. "Now? Me? Dance?"
Mo Hua nodded. "Dance the same dance you performed in the grove that night during the sacrifice."
Iron Shugu looked troubled. "I… my arms and legs have all been broken. I can't dance well…"
Mo Hua's face stayed cold. "Figure it out yourself."
Iron Shugu felt that this vicious pretty boy really knew how to torment people.
Making a man with broken limbs dance—what was he thinking?
"You can refuse, but don't say I didn't warn you. The evil thoughts here run deep. The longer you stay, the sooner you'll die. In fact, with every minute you don't dance, your chance of dying only grows…" Mo Hua kindly reminded him.
Bitterly resentful, Iron Shugu could only say, "I'll dance!"
Leaning on a crutch, he began to dance according to the Shugu Tribe's ritual for "pleasing" the Barbarian God.
But the crutch was unwieldy, his arms were broken, his legs crippled, and the atmosphere was wrong—naturally, he danced awkwardly.
Mo Hua silently watched from the side.
Bonfire, "eating" people, dancing.
With all three present, the sacrifice should have been complete.
The only issue was that Iron Shugu's dancing was terrible.
But there was no helping it—he was the only one who knew the steps.
Stumbling and falling repeatedly, he took twice the usual time to get used to the pain tearing through his limbs and slip into a tipsy, frenzied state.
As Iron Shugu's dance followed a certain strange rhythm, the atmosphere in the hall began to change.
From the White-Bone Barbarian God's statue seeped a blood-red aura.
Blood trickled from the Barbarian God's face.
The aura of evil grew thicker.
Mo Hua's eyes grew brighter.
Finally, with a deep, terrifying mutter, a blood mist suddenly descended, enveloping the altar from above. This blood mist of the evil god should have been invisible to ordinary cultivators.
But Iron Shugu saw it.
The moment he did, his face went deathly pale. "A true god… this is a true god?! The Barbarian God's true body has descended?!"
"Blood mist descends… to behold the true god… to shed the mortal shell… to forever serve the divine path…"
"I'm going to die… going to die…"
Iron Shugu's eyes twisted with panic, and he turned to flee. But his crippled legs forced him to rely on a crutch.
He hadn't gotten far before a black Demonic Flame Fireball flew over, blasting his crutch to pieces.
Iron Shugu crashed to the ground, pain lancing through his shattered limbs. He looked up at Mo Hua, who had blasted him, his rage boiling over.
"You—!""
But before he could finish, the blood mist of evil thoughts closed over him.
His consciousness grew hazy, and then he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.
Mo Hua, however, stood where he was, calm and steady, quietly waiting for the evil god's blood mist to engulf him.
...
Meanwhile, outside the stone hall.
Everyone felt a strange, inexplicable dread, as though something terrifying inside was awakening.
But they could see nothing, hear nothing; even their divine sense detected no anomaly. Only their hearts felt unbearably heavy, as if some powerful, violent presence were watching them.
The entire Bifang Tribe wore expressions of fear, and their young master Bi Jie's face was grim.
On the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe's side, Chi Feng and several Golden Core cultivators exchanged glances, their brows tightly furrowed.
Danzhu's heart was filled with worry for Mo Hua's safety.
But none of them knew what was inside the stone hall, and none dared to disobey the orders of Mo Hua, the "Shaman," by rushing in.
...
Inside the stone hall.
After a dizzying swirl of heaven and earth—
Iron Shugu opened his eyes, lowered his head, and found that his broken arms and legs were completely intact.
Yet his heart felt no joy.
He knew, more or less, that he no longer "lived" in this world.
He had entered the domain of the "Barbarian God."
Despair flooded his heart.
He knew he should never—never—have gotten involved with that vicious pretty boy.
Now, one careless step had landed him in the divine forbidden zone.
According to Shugu Tribe legend, beholding the true body of a god was the greatest of blessings.
But it also meant his divine soul would never return to the mortal world—his physical path had already ended.
In all the Shugu Tribe's written records, aside from the first ancestor, no one had ever returned alive to the mortal world after seeing the Barbarian God in person.
The sixteen-character warning—"Blood mist descends, behold the true god, shed the mortal shell, forever serve the divine path"—had been left by that ancestor to warn future generations: revere the god, but never behold the god.
Now, it had all come true…
Iron Shugu's heart went cold as death.
Just then, a deep, terrifying voice sounded: "Why do you not kneel?"
The Barbarian God!
With a thud, Iron Shugu immediately dropped to his knees, banging his head against the ground.
But moments later, he realized the words hadn't been spoken to him.
He cautiously turned his head for a peek—and froze.
Beside him stood…
A child?
His brows were delicate, his face like carved white jade, looking like an exquisitely sculpted porcelain doll—utterly charming.
But… where had this child come from?
Iron Shugu felt something was seriously wrong. He scrutinized the child's face carefully, and after a moment, his eyes went wide in shock—
It was that vicious pretty boy?!
"How did he turn into a child?!"
"What… what's going on with his divine soul?"
Iron Shugu was still reeling when he heard the child speak—his tone laced with disappointment, and utterly lacking respect—as he addressed the Barbarian God:
"You've only fallen halfway?"
Iron Shugu was gripped by sheer terror, a chill piercing straight to his bones.
What was this brat saying?!
How could he… address the Barbarian God as "you"?
How could he say the Barbarian God had "fallen"?
And—only halfway?
From the sound of it, he wasn't pleased it was only halfway. Did he actually want the Barbarian God to fall completely?!
Iron Shugu was utterly horrified.
How could a "human" be so ignorant… so arrogant?
And sure enough, the Barbarian God became enraged.
Iron Shugu could feel it.
As a "follower" of the Shugu Barbarian God, he could sense the god's fury—it was like a storm of blood and wind, a nightmarish hurricane of calamity.
"This kid… he's really begging to die…"
"When he dies, please—please—don't drag me down with him…"
"I don't even know him…"
Iron Shugu pressed his forehead against the stone steps of the hall, too afraid to move a muscle.
Sure enough, with a furious roar, the Barbarian God's rage rolled in like black clouds blotting out the sky, blood rain sweeping through the grand hall.
A heavy thud sounded.
Iron Shugu's very bones were trembling.
But that storm of wrath lingered unnaturally long, as though time itself had been frozen—never descending upon him.
His face twitched. After a long time, he finally dared to crack his eyes open and glance forward.
And there he saw… a massive, grotesque white skull.
The skull had been forcibly cleaved off, crashing to the floor—its eye sockets wide with terror.
Standing atop that skull was the child.
The boy looked like a golden jade doll, his feet planted on the skull, a golden sword dangling from his hand.
From the golden sword tip, the black blood of a god dripped… one drop at a time.
The sight was so terrifying that Iron Shugu's heart stopped cold.
It was like a world-shattering tsunami had crashed over his soul, obliterating everything he thought he knew in his three hundred years of life.
(End of this Chapter)