Chapter 1258: True or False Lord Wuzhu

Half a month later, the grand assembly of all tribes in the Zhu Que mountain realm was officially held.

The location of the assembly was set in an ancient grand hall.

The hall lay deep within the desert, remote and barren, seemingly a former ritual ground used by major tribes of Zhu Que mountain realm for deliberation, decision-making, and resolving disputes.

But after years of neglect, its walls crumbled and ruins spread, until it was eventually abandoned.

Now, in this chaotic age, tribes estranged from one another had no better place to gather, so they reactivated this ancient hall as the venue for negotiating their alliance.

At this moment, the hall was filled with representatives of every tribe, their totems dazzling, banners fluttering.

The strongest forces, highest-level cultivators, and most elite warriors of the entire Zhu Que mountain realm were gathered here.

Chieftains, senior elders, young masters, and trusted barbarian generals from major tribes—Dan Que, Yan Yi, Huo Ying, Hong Luan—even Bi Fang—were all present in the hall.

In this ancient assembly hall, the weight of authority was immense.

The blood aura pressure from mid-to-late Jin Dan cultivators piled atop one another, deep as an abyss, vast as an ocean, making even breathing difficult.

Among the crowd, the most unusual, the most unassuming, yet the most conspicuous was Mo Hua—the smallest in stature, the youngest-faced, yet the most imposing in demeanor.

After all, he was the only Foundation Establishment cultivator in the entire hall.

And though his cultivation was the lowest, his seat was among the highest.

Beside him sat Lu Gu, the grand chieftain of Shu Gu tribe, a towering figure like a mountain, with late Jin Dan cultivation.

Mo Hua's position was only slightly lower than Lu Gu's… nearly equal in status.

Had it not been for the fact that all attendees were Jin Dan cultivators—not ordinary ones, but mid-to-late Jin Dan by the dozens—making the situation too dangerous, Mo Hua would have had Lu Gu sit slightly ahead to shield him.

Otherwise, according to the customs of Shu Gu tribe, he, the Lord Wuzhu, ranked higher than Lu Gu, the grand chieftain.

Even though Mo Hua had "lowered his status" by sitting below Lu Gu, many chieftains, senior elders, and barbarian generals still cast sidelong glances at him.

After all, this was a tribal assembly unseen in centuries.

Jin Dan cultivators were everywhere.

Many mid-Jin Dan generals with glorious battle records had no seats at all, forced to stand and deliberate like common soldiers.

Yet this boy—youngest in age, lowest in cultivation, so low it was shocking, merely Foundation Establishment—sat calmly upon the high seat, nearly level with the grand chieftains of major tribes. How could anyone not feel resentment and confusion?

Even many hot-tempered, arrogant barbarian generals glared at Mo Hua with malice in their eyes.

They could tolerate the chieftains and senior elders seated above them.

But this "tiny thing" clearly lacked the qualifications.

Though they resented him, they dared not cause trouble.

This was a tribal assembly—a rare event once in a hundred years—not a place for reckless brawling or petty rivalries.

Moreover, Mo Hua sat beside Lu Gu.

Though they looked down on Mo Hua as a "fox borrowing a tiger's might," they dared not defy Lu Gu.

Lu Gu was infamous for his brutality.

Though rumors claimed the former grand chieftain of Shu Gu died of old age, assassinated by the traitor Can Gu, discerning eyes could see who truly pulled the strings.

He killed his own grand chieftain without hesitation—what more could he do to Jin Dan cultivators from other tribes?

Thus, though they hated Mo Hua, they had no way to act against him.

Among those watching Mo Hua, the most astonished was Dan Lie, grand chieftain of Dan Que tribe.

He had not expected Lu Gu to actually attend this assembly.

Seeing the relationship between Lu Gu and Mo Hua, Dan Lie felt a quiet tremor within him.

Others might assume Mo Hua owed his status to Shu Gu tribe, to Lu Gu the grand chieftain.

But Dan Lie faintly sensed…

It was not Lu Gu commanding Mo Hua, nor was Lu Gu treating Mo Hua as a puppet of the cult.

It was truly this boy-like Lord Wuzhu who was "commanding" the late Jin Dan Lu Gu.

Dan Lie found it inconceivable.

He had met Lu Gu several times before; he knew what manner of man this former general, now grand chieftain, was.

With his ability and pride, he could never be controlled by another.

Especially not by a boy barely reaching his waist, younger than his youngest child, with only Foundation Establishment cultivation.

"Why…"

"What exactly has happened here…"

"Has Lu Gu been… controlled?"

Dan Lie frowned deeply; when he looked again at Mo Hua, he suddenly felt an inexplicable malevolence emanating from the boy's clear face.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, remained calm and composed, his gaze steady, feigning the dignified bearing of a Lord Wuzhu.

After all, he might soon face a trial of "true or false Lord Wuzhu"—he could not afford to be careless…

As time passed, all preparations for the assembly were completed.

The high-ranking representatives of every participating tribe had arrived.

Yet the assembly had not yet begun; all remained patient, as if awaiting something. Mo Hua grew weary and closed his eyes to rest.

Another half-hour passed; the previously noisy hall fell utterly silent.

Two profound spiritual senses swept through the entire hall.

Mo Hua's heart tightened slightly; he slowly opened his eyes and followed the aura to see two extraordinary cultivators had entered the hall.

One was tall and robust, with fiery red hair, a rugged face, resolute eyes that burned with unyielding faith, his mental power immense.

His upper body was half-naked, revealing rock-like muscles and a crimson flame tattoo across his back.

He wore strange incense pouches and vials emitting a peculiar fishy odor.

His cultivation was late Jin Dan.

Another was a woman, her face caked in thick makeup, lips painted dark green, eyebrows long and narrow, eyes heavily shadowed.

From the contours of her face, she was a seductive beauty.

But only her face could be seen.

Her entire body was wrapped in a greenish robe, her graceful figure faintly visible, yet not a single speck of skin showed beyond her face.

The woman's aura was profound; she, too, was at the late stage of Jin Dan.

"Two late-stage Jin Dan…"

Mo Hua's heart tightened; from the overwhelming mental force radiating from these two, he deduced that this man and woman were precisely the two "Lord Wuzhu" that Chief Danlie had warned him about—true shamans from Wang Ting, who would attend this alliance council.

As the two entered, everyone around—chiefs, elders, and barbarian generals—rose to greet them:

"Lord Yan Zhu."

"Lord Qing Zhu."

The tone of these tribal elites was deeply respectful.

Even though they held high positions, wielded great power, and stood above millions, they dared not show the slightest disrespect to true shamans.

This stood in stark contrast to how they treated Mo Hua.

As for Mo Hua, they didn't even show respect—most merely glared coldly, sneering at him.

To merely overlook him, pretend not to see him, and avoid exposing him as a fraud on the spot—that was the utmost "respect" they could offer this impostor.

Mo Hua himself was somewhat stunned.

He had assumed Wang Ting's shamans were no better than himself—perhaps slightly stronger, but nothing extraordinary.

Yet now, seeing before him these two true shamans—one "Yan," one "Qing"—he sensed their formidable aura and unyielding mental force.

Mo Hua couldn't help thinking: perhaps… it wasn't entirely unfair that others looked down on him.

One shaman, late-stage Jin Dan, tall and imposing, radiating divine fire.

The other, late-stage Jin Dan, slender and elegant, exuding mysterious beauty.

And himself? Foundation Establishment late-stage, short in stature, face still youthful.

Compared like this, anyone with eyes could tell who was the true shaman and who was the fake.

Even Mo Hua, looking at himself, felt like a "counterfeit"—let alone others…

Mo Hua sighed inwardly, unable to suppress a faint… touch of "inferiority."

Of course, outwardly he remained impassive, a "Lord Wuzhu" unshaken by praise or blame, as steady as Taishan, dignified and reliable.

At the highest point of the alliance hall sat two seats.

These had been specially prepared for these two Wang Ting shamans.

The muscular man, bare-chested and covered in fire patterns, hailed as "Lord Yan Zhu," sat in one.

The woman, her graceful form wrapped in greenish robes, her face the only exposed feature of her exquisite beauty, was "Lord Qing Zhu."

Both titles contained the character "Zhu," clearly to signify their status as shamans.

The "Yan" and "Qing" likely related to their cultivation arts or the deities they served.

Under the crowd's adoration, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu took their seats; their first glance went immediately to Mo Hua.

For he alone among all present was Foundation Establishment.

He alone was the most "out of place."

He alone remained seated, unmoving, not rising to greet them—as if he didn't even notice them.

Qing Zhu's gaze lingered on Mo Hua's fair, delicate face, silent.

It was Yan Zhu who, beside her, glanced at Mo Hua and asked:

"Who is this…?"

No one answered; the hall fell quiet.

Finally, Danlie, the Grand Chief of Danque Tribe, stepped forward to introduce Mo Hua: "This… is also… a Lord Wuzhu."

Danlie's heart ached with discomfort and embarrassment.

After all, to flatter this fake shaman in front of true shamans was a test of sheer audacity.

Yan Zhu's eyes flickered with a look of weary mockery; he turned to Mo Hua and asked coolly:

"Then tell me, this 'Lord Wuzhu'… when did you enter Wang Ting? When were you granted the Divine Edict? When did you hear the gods' teachings? Who was your master? Which sect, which lineage do you belong to? Are you now a Lower Wuzhu, Middle Wuzhu, or Upper Wuzhu? Who authorized you to roam the land? Who granted you your 'Zhu name'? What god's Dao are you spreading…?"

Mo Hua remained silent.

He cursed inwardly.

These people of the Great Wild were truly insane—just a shaman, and they've built all these rituals? Who are they guarding against? What's the point?

Mo Hua's eyes flickered slightly; he answered calmly: "I don't know."

Everyone froze.

Even Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu showed a flicker of surprise.

Usually, when someone pretended to be a shaman before them—even when exposed—still tried to bluster and defend themselves.

But this man simply said he didn't know…

Wasn't this a naked "fraud"?

He couldn't even fabricate a single lie.

How could someone like this sit at the high seat, equal to these tribal elites?

The Grand Chiefs and Grand Elders present all changed expression, fixing Mo Hua with cold, disapproving stares—clearly ashamed to have been fooled by him.

Grand Chief Danlie's expression was odd.

Even Lugu looked confused, unsure of Mo Hua's intent.

Yan Zhu's gaze sharpened as he looked at Mo Hua: "So you're not a shaman. Your identity is fake?"

Mo Hua shook his head. "No, I am a Lord Wuzhu."

Lord Yan Zhu's gaze turned cold. "You don't know anything, and yet you still claim to be a Lord Wuzhu?"

Mo Hua countered, "Who told you that being a Lord Wuzhu requires knowing all that messy stuff?"

Lord Yan Zhu, far from angry, laughed instead. "The traditions of the Great Wasteland, the inheritance of Wang Ting, the rules of the Lord Wuzhu — for several thousand years it has always been this way, passed down from the elders. How could it be false?"

Mo Hua, too, said calmly:

"The inheritance of the Great Wasteland is the Great Wasteland's business. The inheritance of Wang Ting is Wang Ting's business. These things are, after all, merely rules set by people — what have they to do with the gods? You are a Lord Wuzhu, so tell me, is it the will of the gods you revere, or these worldly rules set by men?"

For a moment, Lord Yan Zhu was left speechless by Mo Hua's words.

Even Lord Qing Zhu, standing to one side, wore a somewhat stunned expression.

The rest of the crowd exchanged uncertain glances.

Lord Yan Zhu's gaze turned icy as he stared Mo Hua down, coldly laughing: "What a bold tongue. So then, it is the will of the gods you revere?"

Not a trace of color rose to Mo Hua's face as he nodded and said, "Naturally."

Lord Yan Zhu's gaze was indifferent. "You have never entered Wang Ting, never received an investiture, have no foundation, no inheritance, no Wuzhu rank, no Zhu title — and yet, with nothing but empty words, you dare claim to be a Lord Wuzhu? You little rascal, your nerve is truly something…"

Mo Hua shook his head. "That I am a Lord Wuzhu is not something I myself have said."

Lord Yan Zhu scoffed, "Then who told you so?"

Mo Hua, perfectly serious, inclined his head and said, "It was the Lord God himself who told me, in person."

Lord Yan Zhu stared at Mo Hua, momentarily unable to speak.

Mo Hua, his face solemn, went on:

"I was born amidst ignorance. From the moment of my birth, I knew no years, knew no clan, knew not whence I came, nor whither I was bound, drifting aimlessly between heaven and earth. One day, I suddenly fell into a dream, and saw Jin Guang filling the sky, radiant as colored glass. A divine lord, pure as a newborn child, bestowed upon me the grace of the gods, and told me that the world would face a great calamity, that mortals would suffer a great misery, that a boundless nightmare was about to descend upon the world…"

"And that mortals, lost in ignorance, would fight and slaughter one another without end. The divine way had fallen, shackled by chronic ills, trapped by dogma. Mortals invoked the name of the gods, yet never truly heeded the gods' teachings — they only indulged their private desires, committing acts of depravity, until at last a great catastrophe descended upon the world, and all living things faced the calamity of extinction."

"Therefore, the Lord God, pure as a newborn child, personally conferred upon me the title of 'Lord Wuzhu,' entrusting me to shoulder the gods' teachings, to uphold the gods' great power, to walk the world, to sweep away evil, to spread the divine will, to deliver mortals from suffering, and to bring light into the hearts of men…"

Mo Hua's gaze was clear, his expression devout, his teeth white as Hua Ruyu, lotus blossoms blooming from his tongue.

Every one of the assembled great chieftains, upon hearing this, was utterly shocked and bewildered.

Lord Yan Zhu was left dumbfounded on the spot.

This little rascal…

It wasn't that he couldn't spin lies — he was far too good at it.

In all his years as a Lord Wuzhu, this was the first time he had ever seen such skill with words.

(End of this chapter)