Chapter 1182: The True Shaman
He had only just knelt on the ground, bowing his head.
That child, holding a golden sword, looking like some kind of "Immortal Child", had already lopped off the head of the mighty, majestic, and terrifying Barbarian God.
The utterly absurd sight shattered Iron Shugu's sanity.
Iron Shugu grinned like an idiot, muttering inwardly:
"I understand, I understand, this is an illusion…"
"None of this is real, it's all false, impossible, absolutely impossible…"
"I've fallen into some illusion, some evil sorcery. I'm hallucinating, still dreaming, still dancing to please the Barbarian God. My madness hasn't worn off yet…"
For a moment, Iron Shugu felt this was only natural.
But in the very next instant, he saw the Immortal Child twist his golden sword, golden light spreading like a net, shredding the Barbarian God's gigantic body to pieces. Then, crimson light surged upward, sacred runes appeared, and flames ignited, refining the massive god into a single wisp of silver-green spiritual will.
The Immortal Child opened his tiny blood-stained mouth and, with a howl, swallowed all of that silver-green will in one gulp.
This twisted scene pushed Iron Shugu further into relief.
"Of course… as I thought, this must be a nightmare…"
A child slaying the Barbarian God with a single strike was already absurd beyond reason.
Now, not only had the Barbarian God been slain, but also devoured by that very child—it was an even greater farce, something so laughable that only fools would believe it. Iron Shugu prided himself on not being a fool, so naturally he would never believe it.
Based on his three centuries of cultivation experience, his judgment was clear: he was dreaming, hallucinating, struck by some "affliction" that left him trapped in delusion.
Dreams were opposite to reality.
Most likely, the Barbarian God was so terrifying in reality that his deep-rooted fear had turned it upside down in his dream, letting a child kill the Barbarian God in one swing.
This was simply his own inner mind trying to cope.
As someone who often fell into madness and hysteria, Iron Shugu considered himself an expert on such things.
Just then, the Immortal Child holding the golden sword turned his head and looked straight at him.
A divine aura, unfamiliar yet pure, descended on him. Iron Shugu trembled, dropping to the floor in a practiced kowtow, pressing his forehead to the ground, not daring to make a sound. Even knowing it was a dream, even knowing it was madness, even knowing it was illusion—his ingrained awe and terror toward "gods" was entirely sincere.
Mo Hua's golden eyes stared at Iron Shugu, his mind pondering how to deal with this minor Golden Core leader of the Shugu Tribe. But after a moment, he decided—it was only a small fry, hardly worth his attention.
Iron Shugu knelt there, shivering.
After some time, the dream began to collapse. The divine illusion twisted, the Immortal Child's figure with golden sword grew blurry.
Iron Shugu felt his head spin, twisted like a knot.
When the pain in his spirit faded and he opened his eyes again, he was still in the grand hall.
The statue of the White-Bone Barbarian God loomed above, ferocious and solemn.
But that was all—now it was nothing more than a "dead thing." That eerie, dreadful, unbearable aura was completely gone. Iron Shugu's heart lurched.
"The Barbarian God has departed? Or perhaps… he never descended at all, and all that blood mist earlier was just my delusion?"
"Impossible…"
He quickly suppressed such blasphemous thoughts, but then turned sharply toward Mo Hua in alarm.
Mo Hua stood there, motionless, calm as the clouds.
Iron Shugu studied his face—his shock grew with every glance.
So alike!
Far too alike!
This hateful little pretty-boy looked exactly like the Immortal Child he had just envisioned—the one who slew the Barbarian God with a single strike. Enlarged in size, but otherwise identical.
What… what was going on?
Iron Shugu's heart was filled with panic. He simply could not comprehend.
Mo Hua, however, said nothing. As a Shaman, one had to maintain an air of "mystery."
A chatterbox could never be a true Shaman.
The Barbarian God had been slain—and consumed. His objective was complete.
The whole process had gone far smoother than Mo Hua expected, largely because the Barbarian God's "corruption" had not reached his expectations. It was only half-corrupted, far from a full-fledged "Evil God."
Thus, Mo Hua had nearly destroyed it in one stroke, saving himself a great deal of trouble.
Even so, this was the greatest "evil spirit" he had encountered since leaving the Qianxue Prefecture.
A formidable foe, and a rare feast.
Once he found a quiet place to refine it, his divine sense would surely advance further.
He was eager, but there was still cleanup to be done.
"Save the people…"
Mo Hua's gaze passed over the Barbarian God statue to a cavern behind it.
Inside, he sensed the breath of many living beings.
Stepping closer, he saw rows of rusted iron cages. Behind the bars were faces filled with despair and misery. These were tribesfolk of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, captured and enslaved.
Not only them—captives from other small and mid-sized tribes were also imprisoned here, kept as "living rations."
They were fed scraps unfit for pigs or dogs, barely enough to keep them alive. Sometimes, even poisonous weeds and bark were thrown in. The Shugu Tribe treated them as less than human.
This was the life of barbarian slaves.
When they saw Mo Hua, instead of relief, terror filled their faces.
They mistook him for another of the Shugu Tribe.
Every time the Shugu came, it meant someone was dragged off to be eaten. They were demons, executioners, man-eaters.
Though Mo Hua's face was refined and gentle, who could trust appearances? He might very well be a devil who fed on "humans."
Fear spread through them all.
Mo Hua sighed softly.
For some, just surviving was the hardest task.
With a calm smile, he said:
"You need not fear. I am a Shaman, servant of the Divine-Lord. By His command, and at the request of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe's young master, Dan-Zhu, I have come to save you from this suffering."
His face shone like jade, his bearing solemn, his voice clear yet carrying a tranquil strength.
When he mentioned both "Shaman" and the benevolent "Young Master Dan-Zhu," hope flickered within their despair.
A few Vermilion Sparrow tribesmen knelt and bowed:
"Thank you, Shaman Lord, thank you, Young Master Dan-Zhu."
Once someone led, doubts began to fade. More and more Vermilion Sparrow clansmen bowed in gratitude.
Even captives from other tribes joined in, pleading:
"Thank you, Shaman Lord, thank you, Young Master Dan-Zhu. Please, save our lives!"
Mo Hua disliked being knelt to.
Bowing rites were not a good tradition.
But to play the role of Shaman, he had no choice but to endure it.
With everyone kneeling, Mo Hua extended his pale finger and tapped the iron bars.
A sacred rune formed at his touch, etching onto the cage, shattering the unbreakable iron doors.
To the enslaved tribes, it was nothing short of a miracle.
All the captives dropped to their knees with a thud.
Now even the most doubtful were convinced—the man who commanded sacred runes with a touch, who brought salvation, was indeed a "Shaman Lord."
Cries of "Shaman Lord" filled the air as they bowed.
Mo Hua walked among the rusted cells, unlocking them one by one with a flick of his finger, granting these suffering souls the hope of survival.
More and more captives chanted his name.
Mo Hua felt awkward, but maintained a calm facade.
In less than half an hour, every prisoner in the dungeon was freed.
Over five hundred slaves.
More than half from the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, the rest scattered among other small tribes.
All had been stockpiled by the Shugu Tribe as "rations."
But beyond prisoners, the stone hall held more.
Deeper within were storerooms.
Inside were real provisions: grain, beans, dried meat.
The Shugu Tribe actually had proper food?
It felt strange, but he didn't dwell on it—because his attention was drawn to another storeroom.
There lay barbarian armor, along with materials for forging it: beast bones, hides, ironstone.
In considerable quantity.
Could it be… the reason the Bifang Tribe attacked the Shugu Tribe was for this stockpile of armor?
Mo Hua was surprised—and tempted.
He had long wanted to mass-produce barbarian armor for his troops, to test its effectiveness.
But in the Great Wilderness, there were few skilled smiths, and materials were rare.
These were "military" resources, monopolized by great tribes. To gather high-quality, large-scale materials for armor was nearly impossible.
This was a juicy prize he could not ignore.
Of course, it wasn't his decision alone. Plans would need to be made.
For now, the priority was saving lives.
Turning back to the weary but hopeful faces around him, Mo Hua said softly:
"The Divine-Lord has granted you His blessing. You shall live. Now, follow me."
"Y-yes, Shaman Lord!" they cried.
Mo Hua led them toward the stone hall's gates.
As they passed the towering statue of the White-Bone Barbarian God, the freed slaves shrank back in fear.
They dreaded both the Shugu Tribe who devoured men, and the god they worshipped.
And kneeling before the statue, face painted in white bone makeup, dressed in tribal robes—was Iron Shugu.
"The Shugu Tribe's Golden Core?!"
The captured barbarian-cultivators were gasped.
Even Iron Shugu, who had been kneeling before the Barbarian God's statue, mumbling something under his breath, also jumped in fright—frightened not by them, but by Mo Hua.
Ever since he had seen the scene of the Immortal Child cutting off the Barbarian God's head with a single sword, Mo Hua's face—so similar to the Immortal Child's—had planted fear deep in Iron Shugu's heart.
Even though Iron Shugu firmly believed it had only been a dream, a figment of his imagination…
He still felt an instinctive fear toward Mo Hua.
Mo Hua glanced at Iron Shugu.
Although they had been some distance apart earlier, with his sharp spiritual sense and keen hearing, he had still faintly caught Iron Shugu's mutterings before the Barbarian God's statue—words like "bless me, ancestors," "ward off calamity," and so on.
Such words weren't really a problem.
Mo Hua didn't take them to heart, and instead said to Iron Shugu:
"You, come out with me."
At these words, before Iron Shugu could respond, the captured barbarian-cultivators all showed looks of terror:
"Lord Shaman, this man is a Golden Core from the Shugu Tribe…"
Mo Hua replied:
"This man is a traitor of the Shugu Tribe. It was he who secretly passed on information and guided me here to save you."
Iron Shugu's face froze in shock.
What nonsense was this pale-faced shaman spouting?!
He was no traitor!
He was a loyal "iron-boned" servant of the Shugu Tribe! Out of faith in the Barbarian God, under dire circumstances and under the cruelty of the enemy, he had only been forced to bow his head and lead the way for this pale-faced shaman.
He was no traitor!
No!
But the captured barbarian-cultivators now looked at him with the eyes of seeing a "comrade." Some even had gratitude on their faces.
This made Iron Shugu extremely uncomfortable.
"Let's go," Mo Hua said calmly.
Iron Shugu had no choice. He feared suffering once again under Mo Hua's "vicious hand," so he could only hobble along with his broken crutch, limping behind him.
...
Outside the stone hall.
Dan-Zhu and the others, who had been waiting for over an hour, all looked grave and deeply worried.
They could already conclude that there must be something sinister inside the stone hall.
And yet Mister Wu had been inside for so long, without a single sound.
Bi Jie of the Bifang Tribe wore a mocking sneer and said coldly:
"Overestimating brat… My Bifang Tribe lost two Golden Cores inside, and you think a mere Foundation Establishment, wearing the title of 'Shaman,' can truly be untouchable by all evils? Idiotic…"
But before his voice had fallen, footsteps echoed from within the stone hall.
Bi Jie's face shifted. From the shadows within, a figure slowly emerged.
This person was not tall, but his bearing was solemn. Against the backdrop of the eerie darkness behind him, he seemed almost sacred and majestic.
His face was fair as jade, his gaze clear and steady, his aura transcendent.
He had walked out from a place where Golden Cores had perished, yet his expression had not changed in the slightest. His composure showed no hint of panic, and even his robe bore not the faintest wrinkle. He had endured a great tribulation without his Dao heart wavering.
He had passed through myriad evils, yet remained spotless.
Behind him was a large group of rescued captives.
As these barbarian-cultivators followed Mo Hua out of the stone hall, lifting their heads to see sunlight again after so long, they knew they were saved. Overcome with joy, tears streamed down their faces. They fell to their knees before Mo Hua, fervently crying out:
"Thank you, Divine-Lord, for your blessing!"
"Thank you, Lord Shaman, for saving our lives!"
"Divine-Lord, eternal and undying! Lord Shaman, long-lived and everlasting!"
The devout cries of the barbarian-slaves resounded like thunder.
And Mo Hua, alone and unadorned, gentle and calm, stood in their midst.
Behind him was darkness.
Before him was sunlight.
Radiant light shone upon his face, making his jade-like features appear almost divine.
The sight struck everyone's heart.
Even the people of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, Dan-Zhu among them, were entranced.
In that moment, the image of "Shaman" in their hearts overlapped perfectly with Mo Hua's figure.
Before this, each had held a different impression of what a shaman was.
But now, suddenly, they felt that the one who served the gods, "Lord Shaman," ought to be exactly like Mo Hua.
Many barbarian soldiers' hearts wavered, as though Mo Hua was truly a "representative of the gods" walking upon the earth.
Some soldiers of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, overcome by this sacred atmosphere, unconsciously half-knelt, praying devoutly to Mo Hua.
Even among the "enemy" Bifang Tribe, some soldiers were infected by the moment. Their knees softened, and they almost knelt before this solemn, sacred "Lord Shaman."
Bi Jie was furious, his eyes sharp as blades as he glared back at them.
Those Bifang soldiers who had been halfway to kneeling froze, forcing themselves to stand upright again.
This sacred and awe-inspiring atmosphere lingered for a long time.
At last, Bi Jie could endure no longer. Suppressing the shock and confusion in his heart, he stared straight at Mo Hua and asked:
"What happened? What exactly took place inside the stone hall? Where is Elder Zhuo of my Bifang Tribe, and those twenty elites?"
Mo Hua's face showed a faint trace of pity as he slowly replied:
"Within the stone hall lay a heretical abomination that had betrayed the Divine path. That abomination could bewitch the hearts of men. All of Bifang Tribe's people… are dead."
Bi Jie's expression turned extremely ugly.
Over twenty elite barbarian soldiers—though he felt distressed, he could still afford the loss.
But two loyal Golden Core elders—this was an exceedingly precious kind of 'manpower.'
For them to be lost in the blink of an eye, even Bi Jie could not help but feel pain in his heart.
Bi Jie glared viciously at Mo Hua. "And what about you? Why didn't you die inside?"
Mo Hua, magnanimous and unbothered by his rudeness, fixed his gaze firmly and said:
"I have already said it. As a Shaman, I must spread the Divine-Lord's grace, eradicate evil beings, cleanse corruption, uphold the common people, and save the Great Wilderness as my original vow."
"And now, my piety has received the Divine-Lord's response."
"The Divine-Lord has bestowed upon me supreme divine power, and the powerful abomination that betrayed the Divine Path has already been completely slain!"
At these words, the crowd's faces trembled, erupting into an uproar.
Such profound, mystical claims—they had no way to witness them firsthand, and thus could not easily judge.
But the fact remained: the two Golden Core experts of the Bifang Tribe had died tragically inside the stone hall in less than half an hour.
And the fact also remained: Mo Hua, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, walked out of the stone hall completely unharmed, even rescuing a group of tribesmen who had been imprisoned inside. With such facts before them, saying it was the Divine-Lord's blessing, that he was imbued with "divine power," might not be empty words.
The way everyone looked at Mo Hua—beyond respect—already carried a trace of reverence for a "Divine Path powerhouse," a "Shaman expert." Since he was a true master, he naturally could not be judged by mere "Foundation Establishment."
Bi Jie, arrogant by nature, cursed Mo Hua inwardly as a silver-tongued trickster, playing mysterious and putting on airs.
But this matter, he truly could not see through.
After thinking for a moment, Bi Jie simply ignored it and instead turned directly to Dan-Zhu, speaking coldly:
"Since this… Shaman has already rescued the clansmen of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe, then shouldn't your Vermilion Sparrow Tribe withdraw its troops? We had agreed beforehand—you save your people, but the Shugu Tribe's treasury belongs to our Bifang Tribe."
Dan-Zhu was about to agree, but when he lifted his head and saw Mo Hua, Mo Hua discreetly shook his head.
The barbarian general Chi-Feng also lightly gripped Dan-Zhu's arm.
Dan-Zhu was simple, but Chi-Feng was a seasoned warrior, experienced in countless battles—there was no way he would be fooled by Bi Jie.
On the battlefield, spoken promises were nothing but lies.
When leading troops, only profit mattered.
If the Bifang Tribe cared so much about this Shugu Tribe stone hall treasury, there must be something fishy inside.
Before, when the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe was at a disadvantage, both sides kept out of each other's way, and that was acceptable.
But now—the Bifang Tribe had lost two Golden Core cultivators.
Meanwhile, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe's strength was completely intact, and they even gained Mo Hua—this mysterious Shaman whose true power was unknown.
Comparing the two sides, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe clearly had the upper hand.
Even if it meant enmity, they had to contend with the Bifang Tribe for this treasury. Even if they had to forcefully seize it, the Shugu Tribe's treasury must be taken.
Who knew what kind of treasures might be hidden inside?
(End of this Chapter)