Chapter 1189: True Lord Wuzhu

He was merely kneeling on the ground, bowing his head for a moment.

This child, carrying a golden sword and resembling a "Golden Boy," had already severed the head of the mighty, majestic, terrifying Barbarian God.

The utterly absurd scene shattered Tie Shuguo's sanity.

Tie Shuguo chuckled like an idiot, thinking to himself:

"I understand, I understand—it's an illusion…"

"All of this is fake, illusory, impossible, absolutely impossible…"

"I've been ensnared by a hallucination, I've been afflicted by some dark art, I'm imagining things, I'm still dreaming—I danced to please the Barbarian God, my madness hasn't faded yet…"

In an instant, Tie Shuguo felt a sense of inevitability.

Then the next instant, he saw the Golden Boy twist his golden sword; golden light spread like a net, shredding the massive remains of the Barbarian God into fragments, then red light surged, sacred runes appeared, flames burned, and the vast Barbarian God was roasted into a strand of half-silver, half-blue mental energy.

The Golden Boy opened his bloodied maw, "Aowu!"—and swallowed all the silver-blue mental energy whole.

This even more insane scene made Tie Shuguo feel even more at ease.

"Of course—I told you, I'm having a nightmare…"

For a child to slay the Barbarian God with a single sword blow is already a fairy tale.

Now the Barbarian God isn't just slain—he's swallowed whole by a child. This is even more absurd, something only an idiot would believe.

Tie Shuguo considered himself no idiot—he wouldn't believe it.

Based on his three-hundred-year accumulation of cultivation experience, he was undoubtedly dreaming, hallucinating, afflicted by some "dark illness," trapped in an illusion.

Dreams and reality are opposites.

Probably, in reality, the Barbarian God was so terrifying, the fear so deep, that in his dream, the Barbarian God was slain by a child with a single sword.

This is the cultivator's inner self-regulation.

Tie Shuguo, who frequently fell into madness and suffered from hysterical delusions, had studied this extensively.

At that very moment, the Golden Boy who had slain the Barbarian God, golden sword in hand, turned and glanced at Tie Shuguo.

A strange yet pure divine pressure washed over him; Tie Shuguo shuddered violently, instantly kneeling, forehead slamming the ground, daring not to make a sound.

Even though Tie Shuguo knew he was dreaming, suffering a breakdown, hallucinating—all illusion.

Yet his innate reverence and terror for "gods" remained utterly genuine.

Mo Hua's golden-glowing eyes regarded Tie Shuguo, his thoughts lingering—as if considering how to deal with this Jin Dan leader of the Shuguo tribe.

But after a moment's thought, he was merely a Jin Dan minor leader—not worth much attention.

Tie Shuguo knelt on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

After a while, the dream began to crack; the divine-mental illusion twisted, and Mo Hua's Golden Boy figure grew hazy.

Tie Shuguo also felt a wave of dizziness, his head as if twisted into a knot.

When the pain in his spiritual sense faded and he opened his eyes again, Tie Shuguo found himself still inside the grand hall.

Above the hall, the bone statue of the Barbarian God loomed fierce and solemn.

But that was all—now the statue was merely "inanimate"; the sinister, unholy, unapproachable aura had vanished without a trace.

Tie Shuguo's heart lurched.

"Has the Barbarian God departed? Or… had the Barbarian God never descended at all? Was the blood mist merely my hallucination?"

"It couldn't possibly…"

Tie Shuguo quickly suppressed his blasphemous thought, then suddenly froze, turning to stare at Mo Hua.

Mo Hua stood motionless, expression calm and detached.

Tie Shuguo studied Mo Hua's face, and the more he looked, the more his fear grew.

Similar!

Too similar!

This venomous pale-faced boy was identical to the Golden Boy in his hallucination—the one who wielded the golden sword and severed the Barbarian God's head.

In fact, they were exactly the same, only scaled up.

What on earth… was going on?

Tie Shuguo's heart trembled with dread—he simply could not comprehend it.

Mo Hua said nothing more; as a Lord Wuzhu, one must maintain a certain "mystique."

A chatterbox could never be a Lord Wuzhu.

Now that the Barbarian God was slain and "consumed," the mission's goal had been achieved.

The entire process went far smoother than Mo Hua expected—mainly because the Barbarian God's corruption had not reached his anticipated level; it had only decayed halfway, still not a true "demonic god."

Thus, Mo Hua nearly severed it with a single sword stroke, saving much trouble.

Even so, this was the largest "demonic entity" Mo Hua had encountered since leaving Qian Xue Province.

This was an extremely powerful opponent—and an exceedingly rare "feast."

Later, find a quiet place to refine it thoroughly; his spiritual sense could advance further.

Mo Hua felt impatient, but there were still some aftertasks to handle.

"Rescue…"

Mo Hua's gaze passed over the Barbarian God statue, fixed on a cave behind it.

Inside the cave, many living presences pulsed.

As Mo Hua approached the cave, he saw row upon row of rusted iron cages, each holding faces of misery and despair.

These were the captured tribespeople of the Danque tribe.

Not only Danque—other captured members of smaller and medium tribes were all locked together, used as "live rations."

These living people served two purposes: to be eaten during famines, and to be sacrificed to the Barbarian God.

The food they ate was all bran and chaff—things even pigs and dogs wouldn't touch—purely to keep them alive.

Even some poisonous herbs, roots, and tree bark were fed to them by the Shu Gu tribe, treating them as nothing but animals.

This was the treatment of the barbarian slaves.

These living "barbarian slaves," upon seeing Mo Hua, did not rejoice; instead, their faces filled with terror.

They mistook Mo Hua for a member of the Shu Gu tribe.

Every time a Shu Gu member came, it was to drag people away to be eaten—they were the ox-headed demons fetching souls, the man-eating yakshas.

Though Mo Hua looked handsome and kind-faced, one never truly knows another's heart; he might well be a demon who devours "humans."

The barbarian slaves were filled with dread.

Mo Hua sighed softly in his heart.

Some people in this world truly struggle to survive.

Mo Hua spoke gently:

"You need not fear. I am a Lord Wuzhu who serves the gods, sent by the Divine Lord's command and entrusted by Zhu Shaozhu of the Dan Que tribe to rescue you and free you from this suffering."

Mo Hua's face was like Hua Ruyu, his expression solemn, his beauty unearthly, and his voice, though crisp and clear, carried a calming power that steadied the heart.

Added to this, he mentioned "Lord Wuzhu" and the widely renowned "Zhu Shaozhu" of the Dan Que tribe.

After exchanging glances, the barbarian slaves, though still despairing, could not help but glimpse a flicker of hope.

Several members of the Dan Que tribe knelt before Mo Hua and said:

"Thank you, Lord Wuzhu. Thank you, Zhu Shaozhu."

With someone leading, the doubts in others' hearts gradually faded, and more and more Dan Que tribe members knelt to thank Mo Hua.

Even some barbarian cultivators from tribes not of the Dan Que followed suit, bowing and pleading:

"Thank you, Lord Wuzhu. Thank you, Zhu Shaozhu. We beg Lord Wuzhu to save our lives."

Mo Hua disliked being bowed to.

This "kneeling ritual" was never a proper form of respect.

But now, as he was playing the role of Lord Wuzhu, he had no choice but to endure these barbarian cultivators' prostrations.

Amid the kneeling crowd, Mo Hua extended his Bai Xi fingers and tapped the prison gate.

The "Sacred Glyph" obeyed his command, forming at his fingertip, condensing upon the iron bars, and shattering the unbreakable gates outright.

To these barbarian cultivators, reduced to "barbarian slaves," this act seemed like a divine miracle.

All the barbarian slaves fell to the ground with a thud.

Those who had doubted now believed without question: Mo Hua, whose fingertips birthed Sacred Glyphs and whose compassion was boundless, was indeed the "Lord Wuzhu" who had come to save their lives and free them from suffering.

The crowd cried out, "Lord Wuzhu!" and bowed their heads to Mo Hua.

Thus, Mo Hua walked through the rusted, despair-filled iron cells, gently tapping his fingers—and one by one, the prison doors burst open, bringing these tormented barbarian cultivators the hope of life.

More and more freed barbarian slaves chanted Mo Hua's honored name.

Mo Hua felt uneasy inside, but feigned calmness.

Finally, in less than half an hour, Mo Hua had freed every prisoner held in the Shi Dian dungeon.

Mo Hua counted: roughly five hundred barbarian slaves.

More than half were from the Dan Que tribe.

The rest, scattered and few, were barbarian cultivators from surrounding small tribes.

These were all the "rations" stockpiled by the Shu Gu tribe.

Besides these rations, the Shi Dian held other things.

Deeper in the dungeon were several storage rooms.

Inside these storage rooms lay true "food"—grains, cereals, dried meat, and the like.

The Shu Gu tribe had real food?

Mo Hua felt a slight dissonance in his heart, but had no time to ponder it—his attention was drawn to another set of storage rooms.

Inside were barbarian armors, and the materials needed to forge them: demonic bones, leather, iron ore, and more.

The quantity was considerable.

"Could the Bi Fang tribe's attack on the Shu Gu tribe have been for… this vast cache of barbarian armors?"

Mo Hua felt a flicker of surprise, and a touch of greed.

He had long wished to mass-produce barbarian armors, to equip barbarian troops and test their effectiveness.

But in the barbarian wastes, elders skilled in forging were rare, and forging materials even scarcer.

In a sense, these were all "military supplies," monopolized almost entirely by the great tribes; acquiring high-quality, large quantities of demonic beast bones and hides suitable for forging "barbarian armors" was extremely difficult.

This "fat prize" before him had to be taken.

Of course, this was not something he could decide alone—he must plan further.

The immediate priority was still to get these people out.

Mo Hua turned back, gazing at the filthy, hopeful, yearning faces before him, and said slowly:

"The Divine Lord will bless you and save your lives. Now, follow me out."

The crowd responded eagerly:

"Yes, Lord Wuzhu."

Mo Hua led the group toward the great gate of the Shi Dian.

As they walked, they reached the towering, grotesque bone idol of the Barbarian God.

All the barbarian slaves froze, their faces twisted with terror, trembling in fear.

They feared the Shu Gu tribe, who devoured men—and they feared the Barbarian God idol the Shu Gu tribe worshipped.

And before the Savage God statue, another man knelt—his face painted with a white-bone mask, dressed in the attire of the Shu Bone Tribe: a Tie Shu Bone.

"A Jin Dan of the Shu Bone Tribe?!"

The captured Savage cultivators were startled.

The Tie Shu Bone, who had been kneeling before the Savage God statue and muttering to himself, was also startled.

He was frightened by Mo Hua.

Ever since he had seen the image of Jin Tong slashing the Savage God with a single sword, Mo Hua's resemblance to Jin Tong had filled the Tie Shu Bone with dread.

Even though the Tie Shu Bone firmly believed it had all been a dream, nothing but his own imagination.

Yet he still felt an instinctive fear of Mo Hua.

Mo Hua glanced at the Tie Shu Bone.

Though he had been far away before, Mo Hua's spiritual sense was sharp, his hearing acute and vision keen—he had caught most of what the Tie Shu Bone muttered while kneeling before the Savage God statue.

Things like "Ancestors, protect us," or "ward off disaster and misfortune."

These words were not problematic at all.

Mo Hua paid them no mind, but said to the Tie Shu Bone: "Come with me."

Before the Tie Shu Bone could respond, the captured Savage cultivators all wore solemn expressions of terror:

"Lord Wuzhu, this man is a Jin Dan of the Shu Bone Tribe..."

Mo Hua said: "This man is an 'internal traitor' of the Shu Bone Tribe—he leaked information and led me here to rescue you."

The Tie Shu Bone looked stunned.

What nonsense is this pale-faced Lord Wuzhu spouting?!

I am no traitor!

I am a loyal subject of the Shu Bone Tribe, steadfast as iron—only out of faith in the Savage God, forced by dire circumstances and the enemy's cruelty, did I reluctantly guide this pale-faced Lord Wuzhu.

I am no traitor!

Not at all!

Yet the captive Savage cultivators looked at the Tie Shu Bone as if he were one of their own—even some wore grateful expressions.

This made the Tie Shu Bone feel deeply uneasy.

"Let's go," Mo Hua said calmly.

The Tie Shu Bone had no choice; he feared Mo Hua's "poisonous hand" again, so he leaned on his broken cane, limping awkwardly behind Mo Hua.

Outside the Shi Dian.

Dan Zhu and the others, who had waited over an hour, all wore solemn expressions, their hearts burning with anxiety.

They were certain something sinister lurked within the Shi Dian.

And yet the Lord Wuzhu had been inside so long—still not a sound.

Bi Jie of the Bi Fang Tribe sneered with contempt:

"Overreaching brat... My Bi Fang Tribe lost two Jin Dan inside. You, a mere Foundation Establishment, think merely bearing the title 'Lord Wuzhu' makes you invulnerable to all evil? You're a fool..."

But before he finished speaking, footsteps echoed from within the Shi Dian.

Bi Fang's face changed—he saw a shadow emerge slowly from the darkness.

The figure was not tall, yet his aura was solemn; against the sinister darkness behind him, he appeared almost divine and majestic.

His face was as pure and jade-like, his gaze clear, his demeanor transcendent.

He stepped out from the sinister realm where Jin Dan had perished, his expression unchanged, his bearing utterly calm, not a single fold wrinkled in his robes.

He had endured great calamity without breaking his Dao heart.

He had faced ten thousand evils and remained unstained by a single speck of dust.

Behind him came a large group of rescued captives.

These captured Savage cultivators, having left the Shi Dian with Mo Hua, raised their heads to see the long-missed sunlight, realizing they were saved—every one wept with joy.

They all knelt before Mo Hua, shouting fervently:

"Thank the Divine Lord for his blessing!"

"Thank the Lord Wuzhu for saving us!"

"Divine Lord, eternal and undying! Lord Wuzhu, may you live long and flourish!"

The fervent worship of the Savage slaves deafened the air.

And Mo Hua stood alone, calm and unassuming, in the midst of the crowd.

Behind him lay darkness.

Before him lay sunlight.

Brilliant light bathed his face, making his features as jade-like, as if he were a god descended.

This scene seized the soul.

Dan Zhu and the others of the Dan Que Tribe were rendered speechless.

In that moment, the image of "Lord Wuzhu" in their hearts merged completely with Mo Hua's figure.

Previously, each of them had held a different vision of the Lord Wuzhu.

But now, they suddenly felt—the Lord Wuzhu who served the gods must look exactly like Mo Hua.

Many Savage soldiers felt their hearts sway, as if Mo Hua at this moment were the Divine Lord's earthly emissary.

Some Dan Que Tribe soldiers, influenced by this sacred atmosphere, involuntarily knelt halfway and began to pray devoutly to Mo Hua.

Even soldiers of the "hostile" Bi Fang Tribe were moved—some unconsciously bent their knees, as if about to kneel before this solemn, divine "Lord Wuzhu."

Bi Jie seethed, his eyes like daggers as he turned back.

The Bifang tribe's barbarian soldiers, who had been kneeling halfway, forcibly halted and straightened their bodies.

This sacred and solemn atmosphere lasted for a long time.

Finally, Bi Jie could no longer hold back; he suppressed his shock and confusion, locked eyes with Mo Hua, and asked:

"What exactly happened? What occurred inside the Shi Dian? Where are my Bifang tribe's Elder Zhuo and those twenty elite soldiers?"

Mo Hua's face bore a faint pity as he spoke slowly:

"Within the Shi Dian lurked a heretical entity that betrayed the Dao of the Gods. This evil thing corrupts the heart—every member of the Bifang tribe is dead."

Bi Jie's face turned grim beyond measure.

Though he grieved for the twenty-odd elite barbarian soldiers, he could still afford to lose them.

But two loyal Jin Dan elders—these were extremely precious "human resources."

To lose them all in the blink of an eye, even Bi Jie could not help but feel heartache.

Bi Jie glared fiercely at Mo Hua, "And you? Why didn't you die inside?"

Mo Hua, magnanimous, ignored his rudeness and said firmly:

"I have said it before: as a Lord Wuzhu, my duty is to spread the grace of the Divine Lord, to eradicate heretical entities and purge corruption, to uphold the people and save the wilderness as my original intent."

"Now, my devotion has been answered by the Divine Lord."

"The Divine Lord has granted me supreme divine power and utterly slain the powerful heretical entity that defied the Dao of the Gods!"

At these words, the crowd was shaken, and a murmur spread through them.

They could not witness such divine mysteries firsthand, so they could not judge their truth.

Yet the fact remained: the two Jin Dan elders of the Bifang tribe had died horribly inside the Shi Dian within half an hour.

And Mo Hua, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, walked out unharmed from the Shi Dian and rescued the captive tribespeople—this too was fact.

Given these facts, the claim that the Divine Lord had blessed him, granting him "divine power," might not be false.

The crowd's gaze toward Mo Hua, once respectful, now carried a trace of awe for a "Divine Dao powerhouse," a "Lord Wuzhu of high stature."

If he were truly a high master, he could not be judged by the mere label of "Foundation Establishment."

Bi Jie, by nature arrogant, silently cursed Mo Hua for his slick tongue, his mystifying tricks, his pretentious posturing.

Yet he himself could not fathom the truth or falsehood of this matter.

After thinking it over, Bi Jie gave up and turned directly to Seeing Dan Zhu, coldly saying:

"Since this… Lord Wuzhu has already rescued the Danque tribe's people, can your Danque tribe now withdraw its troops? We agreed beforehand: you Danque tribe rescues the captives, but the storage of the Shuguo tribe belongs to our Bifang tribe."

Seeing Dan Zhu had been about to agree, but when he looked up at Mo Hua, he saw Mo Hua silently shake his head.

The barbarian general Chifeng also gently gripped Seeing Dan Zhu's arm.

Seeing Dan Zhu was simple-minded, but Chifeng, seasoned from years of battle, could not be fooled by Bi Jie.

On the battlefield, verbal agreements are lies.

Commanding troops means only speaking of interest.

The fact that the Bifang tribe cares so much about the Shuguo tribe's Shi Dian storage means there must be something suspicious inside.

If before, the Danque tribe was at a disadvantage and both sides kept to their own boundaries, that would have been fine.

But now, the Bifang tribe has lost two Jin Dan.

Meanwhile, the Danque tribe remains unharmed—and now has added Mo Hua, a Lord Wuzhu whose abilities are mysterious and whose strength remains unknown.

Compared side by side, the Danque tribe clearly holds the upper hand.

Even if it meant making an enemy, they must contest the Shuguo tribe's storage with the Bifang tribe; even if they had to force it, they must swallow the Shuguo tribe's storage whole.

Who knows what treasures might be hidden inside this storage?

(End of Chapter)