Chapter 1236: Entering the Game

Mo Hua stared in stunned silence for a long while, letting out a long sigh within his heart.

Those who peer into the Heavenly Mandate are engaged in stealing the Dao for personal gain, even willingly fueling the slaughter of living beings.

So this is what the one who plays the game is like…

So this is how the Heavenly Mandate is used.

Mo Hua's inner feelings were complex and hard to put into words.

Then he thought of his Senior Uncle.

"Did Senior Uncle… also get seen through and manipulated by the Hua family?"

Mo Hua found it hard to accept emotionally, yet after thinking it over, it didn't truly surprise him.

Senior Uncle, as a Daoist, had stirred up chaos for so long—he could not possibly have escaped the notice of the Dao Court's high-ups.

The Dao Court, and even the deepest reserves of great clans, were unfathomable.

No matter how strong Senior Uncle was, he was still only one man—how could he possibly stand against the ancestral elders of so many powerful factions?

These clan ancestral elders had lived for untold ages; their cultivation realms were at least Void-Perforating, or even beyond.

Senior Uncle may be strong, but he is still only Feather-Transformed…

All a cultivator's techniques ultimately rest upon their realm as foundation.

Thus, Senior Uncle's schemes were foreseen clearly from the very beginning by even more cunning ancient monsters.

Mo Hua sighed deeply; his fear of Senior Uncle lessened slightly, yet the shadow overhead grew heavier.

This shadow was no longer a single cloud—it was a host of ancient monsters like the Hua family, lurking in darkness, plotting from behind the scenes.

Mo Hua turned his gaze again to the Thousand Wasteland Famine Map before him.

Many things he had been too entangled in the game to understand before were now laid bare and crystal clear within this map.

What exactly was Senior Uncle's famine meant to accomplish?

Broadly speaking, it matched his earlier judgment: it was a Gluttonous Force, a formation, a calamity imposed upon the Wasteland.

But more specifically, Senior Uncle had an even deeper intent—he was using the famine to "shrink the circle."

On the famine map, the famine's spread moved step by step inward, from the outer edges of the Wasteland, gradually contracting toward the center, ultimately forming a large "safe zone" in the heartland.

This "safe zone" was Senior Uncle's true objective.

The famine was like a "poison circle."

Those with bad luck, or who were foolish, would die within the "poison circle."

Those with good fortune, or who were shrewd, would naturally be driven by the poison circle.

As the famine spread and the poison circle shrank, all surviving cultivators would be forced by the famine's aura toward the central "safe zone."

This "safe zone" was the Wasteland's final place of survival.

It would gather the majority of the Wasteland's tribes and countless Wasteland cultivators.

With these tribes gathered together, massive conflicts would inevitably erupt, causing enormous casualties.

These casualties, concentrated in one place, would generate vast amounts of grievance, nurturing stronger "Dao Corruptions."

This was the very logic behind Senior Uncle's game.

The Wasteland's map was too fragmented, its tribes divided, its people too scattered—so he had to herd them all like "livestock," gathering them together to be slaughtered en masse.

The Hua family's ancestral elders' intentions were also clearly revealed on this map.

Senior Uncle sought to kill people—to kill the living beings of the Wasteland.

The Hua family sought wealth—to harvest the resources of cultivation.

Their ancestral elders, from above, had calculated the famine's progression, then exploited its spread like a vulture, dumping inferior Grain-Abstaining Pills into the Wasteland and ruthlessly reaping a massive harvest of the Wasteland's reserves.

Those in the game are confused; those outside see clearly.

Mo Hua had been one in the game; now, having seen this map, he stood as if from above, becoming an outsider—and for the first time, glimpsed the full scope of the grand scheme.

The Wasteland was like a "test paper."

Senior Uncle and the Hua family had each written their own answers to achieve their goals.

Now it was Mo Hua's turn to "answer."

Mo Hua sighed.

He was not Senior Uncle—he lacked that incomprehensible "Deceitful Dao" power, and he had no "Daoist" authority.

He was not a clan ancestral elder—he had no Void-Perforating cultivation, nor a vast family's power.

All he could do now was try his best to "protect himself."

He must not be poisoned to death by Senior Uncle's "poison circle."

He could not escape the Wasteland.

He could only find a way to reach the final "safe zone" before the famine's "poison circle" fully closed.

Otherwise, Seeing Dan Zhu would die, the six thousand Wasteland soldiers would die, and he himself could not survive.

Even if the so-called "safe zone" was not safe at all, Mo Hua had no choice.

In this Wasteland, there was only this one path left to take.

Had he not been sensitive to karmic threads, skilled in formations, and meticulous as a hair's breadth, he could never have found this Hua family's Famine Map—and thus could never have followed the ancestral elders' answer to uncover this single path to survival.

As for what comes after—let's see once we reach the "safe zone"…

Mo Hua's gaze dimmed.

He carefully stored the Famine Map, then destroyed all remaining traces, stepped out of the secret chamber, and joined Seeing Dan Zhu and the others, his expression solemn:

"Last night, stars fell upon the Wasteland; the Divine Lord appeared in my dream and granted me revelation, showing us the path ahead."

"From now on, follow me…"

"Only those who heed the Divine Lord's guidance may escape this sea of suffering; all others will sink into great calamity, starve and thirst upon flesh and blood, and never know rebirth."

Mo Hua's tone was solemn.

Dan Zhu and the others grew stern, all bowing and speaking in unison:

"Very well, Mr."

"Yes, Master Wu."

"Yes, Lord Wuzhu."

……

The Dan Que tribe, the Wu Tu Alliance, and the Shu Gu tribe together mustered six thousand barbarian troops; after replenishing supplies in the oasis and resting for a day, they set out once more under the guidance of Mo Hua, the "Lord Wuzhu" who could hear divine oracles.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the desert.

In another hidden oasis chamber.

An old man clad in black-and-green robes was whispering to a middle-aged cultivator with a slightly plump, prosperous face:

"Lord Lugu must have learned something, which is why he keeps launching raids against us… likely seeking revenge."

"He probably also knows what I did to his elder brother…"

"And the young master's earlier report was correct—the Shu Gu tribe indeed has a secret alliance with the Dan Que tribe…"

……

The black-and-green-robed old man spoke at length.

But the plump, prosperous middle-aged cultivator shook his head and said:

"None of this concerns me. Your killing and fighting is your own tribal affair. I only do business—I take no sides in any grudges."

The black-and-green-robed old man nodded. "Yes."

The black-and-green-robed old man's cultivation level was Late Jin Dan.

Yet the prosperous middle-aged cultivator before him was only Early Jin Dan.

Still, this Late Jin Dan elder spoke with great respect toward the Early Jin Dan middle-aged cultivator, daring not to show the slightest negligence—clearly, his status was extraordinary.

Had Mo Hua been hidden here at this moment, he would have recognized this plump, prosperous, Early Jin Dan middle-aged cultivator as one of his old acquaintances:

Elder You.

At this moment, Elder You was reviewing ledgers, and said to the black-and-green-robed old man:

"There cannot be a next time…"

Elder You raised his head, his gaze solemn: "This shipment, we lost nearly four-tenths of our Fasting Pills. The loss is too great."

"The value of the next batch of Fasting Pills, I need not elaborate."

"One Fasting Pill could save a life; calling it a gold coin per pill is not an exaggeration. If handled properly, a few hundred Fasting Pills could exchange for a small tribe's ancestral legacy."

"And as the famine worsens, these Fasting Pills will grow ever more precious."

Here, Elder You sighed. "The roads outside are all blocked by famine. No more Fasting Pills can enter. Each pill we sell is one less; each pill consumed is one less. We must make every single one count."

"This oasis raid was unexpected—I don't blame you. In business, profit and loss are normal."

"But…"

Elder You stared at the black-and-green-robed old man, his expression dark and terrifying:

"There must never be a next time… I dislike people who make me lose spirit stones. Even if you are the Grand Elder of the Bi Fang tribe…"

"Remember: spirit stones are the most precious things in this world. Making me lose spirit stones is like making me lose my life…"

The black-and-green-robed old man, under the piercing gaze of Elder You's eyes—shrewd, inhuman—felt overwhelming pressure and hurriedly said:

"Elder, rest assured, there will be no next time. Rarity increases value—we will guard the remaining Fasting Pills carefully and sell them at a good price."

Hearing the words "good price," Elder You nodded, his expression slightly easing.

"Enough. Pack up quickly and leave soon…" Elder You said. "This place cannot be stayed in. The famine is tightening its circle—we must move all supplies to safety before the Great Wasteland is fully barren. What comes next is the real big business…"

The black-and-green-robed old man nodded, then frowned, worried: "The oasis has been seized—could it expose anything?"

Elder You asked: "Did you destroy the Great Famine Map?"

The black-and-green-robed old man replied: "Destroyed."

"What about the other items?"

"We took everything necessary," the black-and-green-robed old man said. "Only many Fasting Pills were left behind."

"In white bottles?"

"Yes."

Elder You pondered a moment, then said: "No matter. The map is destroyed; a few Fasting Pills and bottles mean nothing as traces."

"Could someone deduce anything from them?" the black-and-green-robed old man frowned.

Elder You sneered. "A few bottles? If he can deduce anything from them, he's truly divine. If he has such insight, he might as well go straight to my Hua family and become our Ancestor…"

The black-and-green-robed old man thought a moment, then nodded in agreement: "True."

"Enough said. Don't slack off on the 'big business'—prepare quickly," Elder You said.

"Yes, I'll go prepare at once."

The black-and-green-robed old man, Grand Elder of the Bi Fang tribe, bowed and withdrew.

Elder You continued reviewing the ledgers, calculating the next route and business operations.

Yet after a while, his heart tightened—he felt uneasy, even a sense of "heart-pounding dread."

As if an unknown "creditor" waited ahead.

"Creditor?"

Elder You frowned, pondering.

What creditor does a merchant have?

All spirit stones were earned by merit.

Whether by deception, theft, borrowing, or making others work for free... once it's in my hands, it's my profit.

There is no such thing as "debt."

Anyone who can be fooled, borrowed from, or taken advantage of by me is merely a fool.

Not to mention, this is the Great Wasteland—I've never been here before. Where would there be any old creditors?

Elder You sneered, unconcerned.

……

Under Mo Hua's guidance, the group packed their belongings, loaded their supplies, gathered the numerous Soul-Returning Pills, and set out, walking into the endless yellow sands.

The route had already been marked by the Hua family's Ancestor in that Famine Map.

Mo Hua merely needed to follow the causal path calculated by the Hua family's Ancestor and head into the heart of the Wilds.

As they walked, just before leaving the desert, Mo Hua couldn't help but glance back.

He felt as if there was still a familiar aura lingering within the desert.

Moreover, this person seemed deeply entangled with him, and owed him something.

Mo Hua frowned, unable to think of anyone in the Great Wasteland who owed him anything, so he set it aside for now.

The road ahead was perilous; he still had to focus on leading them.

Whoever truly owes me will not escape, sooner or later.

……

In the time that followed, Dan Zhu and the six thousand Man soldiers, under Mo Hua's guidance, pressed forward day and night without rest.

Under the spread of famine, the Great Wasteland's environment was extremely harsh.

Fortunately, Mo Hua could divine causality and avoid misfortune.

And with the large haul of Soul-Returning Pills, the group would not lack food for at least some time.

Thus, despite the dangers along the way, the constant presence of calamity, frequent perilous encounters, and many battles, under Mo Hua's guidance, no one was killed or injured.

Yet the group's hearts remained deeply confused.

They did not know the path ahead, nor where Lord Wuzhu intended to lead them, nor where, in this famine-ravaged end times, any hope of survival might lie.

Until, after traveling for over half a month and crossing a mountain range, the horizon before them suddenly opened up.

They saw a vast expanse of "vibrant life," extraordinarily expansive—a basin enclosed by several massive mountain ranges within the Wilds, stretching across dozens of mountain realms.

These dozens of mountain realms included second-grade and third-grade territories, adjacent to one another; from afar, one could see a variety of tribal totems scattered among the mountains, their human presence more thriving than any region in the Wilds had ever been.

It was like an "oasis beyond the end times."

Everyone's faces lit up with joy and excitement.

But Mo Hua could not smile.

Because he understood better than anyone else that this vast basin, like an "oasis beyond the end times," had been deliberately left for them by his Senior Uncle.

It was his Senior Uncle's deliberate act of preserving life amid famine, to prove the Path of Deception.

To gather all remaining cultivators of the Great Wasteland together.

To concentrate life to its utmost extreme.

Then, to transform vast quantities of "life" into overwhelming "death."

This was... the method by which a Daoist proves his Dao.

And within this plan were not only his Senior Uncle's schemes, but also those of the Hua family—and even other noble houses.

These survivors of the Great Wasteland, while alive, would be exploited and profited from by the Hua family, then starve to death in the famine.

Even in death, they would find no peace.

Only after they died would they become his Senior Uncle's true "playthings."

The Dao is unkind; all things are straw dogs.

Standing atop the mountain peak, Mo Hua gazed at the surroundings and could not help but feel this sorrow.

And the notion that "heaven and earth are a chessboard, all living beings its pieces" now appeared before Mo Hua in a far more direct form.

All the mighty cultivators dwelling among the clouds or hidden within black mist were using these living beings to prove their own Dao and seek their own gain.

"This chess game of the Great Wasteland now... the Dao Court plays, the noble houses play, the demonic sects play, my Senior Uncle plays..."

"And now..."

"I, too, have entered the game—and must play this chess."

Mo Hua took a deep breath, his gaze as deep as the sea, turned, and said, "Let's go," then led Dan Zhu and the others, along with his six thousand Man soldiers, into this final arena that would decide the fate of all life in the Wilds.

(End of Chapter)