Chapter 1259: Divine Punishment?

Lying well is a skill.

To lie with a straight face before a crowd is a great skill.

To lie with utter seriousness before a gathering of late-stage Jin Dan cultivators, tribal warlords, elder chiefs, grand chieftains, and even the esteemed two Lord Wuzhu—even if what he says is pure falsehood—this skill is extraordinary.

At least his courage is truly immense.

Not to mention he is merely at Foundation Establishment.

For an instant, even Lord Yan Zhu's heart could not help but doubt himself.

Could this boy's words… actually be true?

After all, apart from true deities, few beings could grant him such audacity…

But then Lord Yan Zhu glanced again at Mo Hua and silently shook his head.

"Impossible…"

His spiritual roots are inferior, his blood qi feeble, his physique that of a sickly invalid; though his eyes are clear and sharp, his spiritual sense is tightly restrained—he does not seem strong at all.

Only his face possesses a crisp, unearthly beauty unlike anything of the Great Wilderness.

Aside from that, he is utterly worthless.

His cultivation is utterly negligible.

With such a body and cultivation, he could never accomplish any real feat.

Not to mention compared to someone like me, an "Upper Shaman," even the "Lower Shamans" under my command far surpass him.

Unless the deity is blind, it could never choose such a "flesh puppet" as its earthly agent.

As for his claim of serving a "Divine Lord," it is a joke—only those utterly ignorant of the Divine Path would dare utter such a thing.

Deceiving the uninitiated is one thing, but flaunting it before true Lord Wuzhu is like showing off one's axe before Lu Tangtang—full of flaws.

Lord Yan Zhu sneered: "Arrogant boasts, false claims of divine lineage, desecrating the gods—this deserves death."

"Zhu Que Mountain Realm was once land of the Wang Ting bloodline. Who would have thought that now, such a Feng Xiaoxiao dares spread heresy here, defiling the Wang Ting divine lineage?"

He scanned the surroundings and said coolly: "Grand Chieftains, how can you tolerate this Feng Xiaoxiao? Where is the dignity of the Wang Ting?"

With these words, a heavy cap was placed upon Mo Hua's head.

The grand chieftains of the tribes all frowned, uneasy in their hearts.

They could not tell whether Mo Hua's earlier words were true or false.

If false, his fabrication was too convincing, his expression too solemn, his aura of devotion too utterly sincere.

But if true, even these grand chieftains found it utterly absurd.

With truth and falsehood indistinguishable, no decision could be made.

Yet now, Lord Yan Zhu of the Wang Ting had outright declared this boy a heretic spreading false doctrine, defiling the divine lineage—so these grand chieftains could no longer ignore it.

Disputes over divine lineage have always been brutal, to the death.

The title of Lord Wuzhu has never been forgivable to usurp—any impostor must die.

The grand chieftain of the Yan Yi tribe, whose ancestors had ties to Lord Yan Zhu, stepped forward and said gravely:

"Let me seize this boy, interrogate him under torture, uncover his true origins, then decide his fate. If he truly has divine lineage, we shall forgive him. But if he speaks nonsense and mocks us, we shall flay him, tear his tendons, and burn him in Xiong Xiongliehuo…"

As the grand chieftain of Yan Yi stepped forward into the center of the hall, he reached out bare-handed—and chains of Xiong Xiongliehuo coalesced, lunging toward Mo Hua.

Mo Hua remained calm, unmoving.

Beside him, Lord Lugu sneered, stepped forward, and with a bare-handed grip, crushed the grand chieftain's solid flame-chains into nothing.

The grand chieftain of Yan Yi frowned in anger: "Lord Lugu, what do you mean?"

Lord Lugu sneered: "Dare you lay hands on my Shu Gu tribe's Lord Wuzhu? Are you seeking death?"

The grand chieftain of Yan Yi had ruled for two hundred years, his seniority far greater; Lord Lugu had only become grand chieftain a few months ago.

Thus, being openly rebuked by Lord Lugu, the grand chieftain of Yan Yi's face darkened.

Yet Lord Lugu was in his prime—tall, imposing, his aura at its peak.

Meanwhile, the grand chieftain of Yan Yi was aged, his will strong but his blood fierce no longer—he dared not truly clash with this "reckless youth," and instead sneered coldly:

"Lord Lugu, have you lost your mind? Your Shu Gu tribe appoints a Foundation Establishment brat as Lord Wuzhu? Are you not ashamed before all?"

Lord Lugu sneered inwardly: You old fool, what do you know?

You've never seen the Lord Wuzhu's demonic arts; you've never witnessed his divine miracles;

You've never grasped the Lord Wuzhu's grand ambition to embrace the Great Wilderness—how could a withered old man like you understand?

Lord Lugu said nothing more, only replied coolly: "Whom my Shu Gu tribe chooses as Lord Wuzhu is our own affair—why should you, an outsider, meddle? Instead of wasting breath here, consider what wood to carve your coffin from."

The grand chieftain of Yan Yi flushed with shame and rage, but his composure ran deep—he did not press the argument, only cast a cold glance at Lord Lugu and said:

"Arrogance invites heavenly retribution. Choosing a Foundation Establishment brat as Lord Wuzhu, treating divine matters as a joke—your Shu Gu tribe's future will be dire…"

Lord Lugu sneered in silence.

The other grand chieftains and elder chiefs all frowned.

Even Lord Yan Zhu's gaze grew heavy.

They had never expected that Lord Lugu, the ruthless Shu Gu grand chieftain, would defend this Foundation Establishment brat so fiercely—it was truly inexplicable.

Some even secretly speculated:

Could this pretty-faced Lord Wuzhu be Lord Lugu's illegitimate son?

To elevate his bastard, Lord Lugu spared no effort to make him Lord Wuzhu.

But then again, it made no sense.

This is Lord Wuzhu—a position of immense stature. To be raised so high, he'd have to be Lord Lugu's own father…

Yet regardless, with the Shu Gu tribe and Grand Chieftain Lord Lugu protecting him, the other tribes could not easily move against Mo Hua.

For to strike at Mo Hua, one must first subdue Lord Lugu.

Lugu was only recently a general, seasoned in battle, not easily overcome.

Moreover, this is the "Alliance Meeting" — if we truly move against Lugu, the alliance will fall apart.

In this fractured land of the Wilds, forming such a united alliance is no small feat; these great chieftains all know it well — they would never risk the grand scheme over a dubious shaman.

But this is the tribe's grand scheme.

To the Wang Ting shaman, the true lineage of the gods is the great matter — no one may steal the shaman's authority by falsely invoking the gods' name.

Lord Yan Zhu looked at Mo Hua, pondered for a moment, then said calmly:

"Boy, I had no wish to lay hands on you myself. Killing a Foundation Establishment cultivator would sully my reputation. But you dare to commit the gravest taboo — unless I unleash divine punishment, extinguish your divine soul, I cannot uphold the gods' rightful place, magnify Wang Ting's might, or cleanse the realm of corruption…"

Lord Yan Zhu slowly raised his hand; crimson flame patterns flowed along his arm, searing intent coiling around his fingertips.

His finger pointed directly at Mo Hua's eyes.

Lord Yan Zhu spoke slowly, each word deliberate: "Today, in the name of the shaman, I bring divine punishment upon you. May the gods' karmic fire burn away your arrogance, scorch your sins, and let your life atone for your transgressions."

An immensely powerful, yet invisible force gathered at his fingertip.

All present turned pale.

They felt the searing intent, their spiritual senses sensed overwhelming pressure — yet they saw nothing before them.

"Is this… the shaman's power?"

The great chieftains and elder chiefs were stunned.

Chief Danlie frowned.

Lugu also sensed an intense, invisible danger, and moved to step before Mo Hua — but the instant he shifted, he caught Lord Yan Zhu's gaze.

Within Lord Yan Zhu's eyes burned Xiong Xiong flames, radiating dreadful majesty, as if a voice spoke directly to him:

"Do you wish to take the boy's place and bear the 'divine punishment'?"

Lugu feared no blade or wound, no death — but the words "divine punishment" struck terror into his very bones.

He dared not.

He would stand before blades and swords, before sorcery and cultivation arts for Mo Hua — but he dared not lift a hand against "divine punishment."

In that instant, Lugu froze in place.

And in that fleeting moment, Lord Yan Zhu's mental force surged forth.

The powerful mental force swept through the hall.

All felt the air around them grow furnace-hot, as if the gods themselves had unleashed blazing fire to burn the blasphemous sinner.

This was a force of an entirely different plane of cultivation.

Everyone could not help but show shock, turning their heads toward Mo Hua.

And Mo Hua, the "fake shaman," stood motionless, as if unaware — not a single movement, not a flicker of reaction.

Like an innocent youth, ignorant and clueless, awaiting divine retribution.

The searing intent surged forward, crashing against Mo Hua like the fires of a hellish apocalypse, entering his seven orifices, rushing into his spiritual sea, burning his divine consciousness…

The great chieftains and elder chiefs all paled, some even stirred with pity.

Lord Yan Zhu, wielding the power of "divine punishment," wore an expression of cold detachment, radiating supreme authority.

And the innocent Mo Hua bore the burning of the karmic fire.

Perhaps the pain was too great — he could not even cry out, forced to stand silently, enduring it all.

The karmic fire still burned.

The divine punishment continued.

Mo Hua remained utterly still.

Long moments passed — Mo Hua still showed no great reaction, his expression unchanged.

The great chieftains paused, their expressions turning strange.

Lord Yan Zhu froze in place.

Mo Hua felt his eyes warm, itchy — he blinked, his gaze clear as he asked Lord Yan Zhu:

"Your divine punishment? Is it over?"

Lord Yan Zhu felt those light words strike his chest like a sledgehammer, shattering his pride.

His heart churned with turbulent emotion.

But as a shaman, long hardened by trials, his will was iron, his face equally unyielding.

Lord Yan Zhu suppressed every flicker of expression, calmly withdrew his finger, and sighed softly:

"Enough. Heaven has mercy on life. You are but a child, ignorant of heaven's height and earth's depth, presuming to call yourself a shaman. Though guilty, your crime does not merit 'divine punishment.'"

"Those punished by divine retribution are always the utterly wicked, beyond redemption. As for you… you are not even worthy."

Mo Hua blinked, at a loss for words.

This Lord Yan Zhu had thicker skin than he did.

Apparently, in this age, if your skin isn't thick, you're too ashamed to be a shaman.

The great chieftain of Yan Yi tribe immediately bowed and sighed:

"No wonder you are Lord Yan Zhu — your breadth of heart and magnanimity are unmatched. Just now, this boy was paralyzed by your aura, his spirit deeply shaken. With this display of your might, he will surely restrain himself henceforth. Let your grace overlook his petty offense and spare him this time…"

Lord Yan Zhu gave a slight nod. "The great chieftain speaks wisely. I shall spare him this once."

Mo Hua: "..."

At that moment, the beautiful, silent Lord Qing Zhu spoke slowly:

"Time grows late. Let us begin the deliberations without delay."

Her voice was soft, slightly hoarse.

All hastened to respond: "Yes, deliberations come first."

"With the Wuqiao army before us and the tribe's survival at stake, we must proceed with the utmost caution."

"At this critical juncture, alliance is paramount..."

Amidst the chaos, the alliance meeting proceeded methodically as planned.

It seemed everyone had unconsciously forgotten the earlier incident; no one mentioned it again, nor did anyone cast a glance toward Mo Hua.

Mo Hua had become a "transparent man."

No one acknowledged him as "Lord Wuzhu," yet no one came to deny him either.

Mo Hua sighed inwardly.

Still, this was fine—no one disturbed him, no one questioned him, and thus he could participate in this alliance under the ambiguous guise of "Lord Wuzhu."

He lacked official recognition as "Lord Wuzhu," yet he received the treatment of one.

That was enough.

Thereafter, as the alliance meeting continued, Mo Hua, the "transparent man," remained on the side, merely listening.

He listened only—no debate, no speech, no opinions offered.

The alliance itself held little that he needed to actively pursue.

It involved countless tribal grudges and tangled interests, like a quagmire; Mo Hua had no desire to get entangled.

As long as, in the end, they all reached consensus to oppose the Wuqiao tribe, that was sufficient.

He only needed to understand the developments, so he could control the situation from behind the scenes and orchestrate events.

Thus, the alliance meeting proceeded step by step.

Almost every tribe's Great Chief or Great Elder rose to speak, laying out advantages and disadvantages, voicing demands, and ultimately declaring what concessions they were willing to make for the alliance.

The Danque tribe, Huoying tribe, Yan Yi tribe, Hong Luan tribe, and Bifang tribe all did the same.

Even the traditionally "isolated" Shu Gu tribe, under Mo Hua's covert instruction, expressed willingness to compromise on certain interests to jointly attack the Wuqiao tribe.

Of these, the one Mo Hua cared most about was the Bifang tribe.

For this meeting, the Bifang tribe's Great Chief did not come; the matter was handled by their Great Elder.

It was said the Bifang tribe's Great Chief was gravely ill and could no longer personally oversee affairs, leaving the Great Elder to act on his behalf.

Mo Hua doubted this.

He also spotted a familiar face among the Bifang tribe's ranks—the Bifang tribe's Young Master, Bi Jie.

Bi Jie naturally gave Mo Hua no good look.

But this was a tribal matter; as a Young Master, Bi Jie lacked sufficient weight to speak, so he merely sat in the corner, glaring venomously at Mo Hua.

The Bifang Great Elder, when looking at Lord Lugu, also glared with venom.

The old man in the black-green robe during the Green Oasis incident was the Bifang Great Elder.

He had clashed repeatedly with Lord Lugu, suffered repeated defeats, lost his territory, and had his supplies seized—thus his grudge against Lord Lugu ran deep.

Of course, if one traced the true instigator, it was still Mo Hua.

But the Bifang Great Elder saw none of Mo Hua's machinations here; naturally, he could only hate Lord Lugu, the one who had fought him.

And the most complex relationship here lay in this:

The relationship between the upper echelons of the Bifang tribe and the Danque tribe was actually not bad—at least not terribly so.

The Bifang Great Elder and Dan Lie, the Great Chief, got along quite amicably.

But between Bi Jie and Dan Zhu, the two Young Masters, there was considerable friction.

Meanwhile, the enmity between the Bifang tribe and the Shu Gu tribe ran very deep.

Caught in the middle, Mo Hua naturally became the target of the Bifang tribe's resentment.

Of course, Mo Hua deserved this resentment—he had indeed been the puppeteer behind many of these events; the Bifang tribe had not mistaken their enemy.

Thus, the tangled web of tribal grudges across the Great Wilderness was laid bare.

Yet all these grudges were hidden beneath the surface; publicly, to advance the alliance, everyone remained silent on them.

The alliance meeting proceeded amid this delicate atmosphere.

What followed was exactly as Mo Hua had anticipated.

Another key point of the alliance was to deliberate how to deploy the allied barbarian forces for a decisive battle against the Wuqiao tribe.

The Wuqiao tribe was powerful, sweeping across all fronts, undefeated. Most third-grade tribes in the Zhu Que mountains were no match for them.

But this was because most tribes fought alone.

If most tribes of the Zhu Que mountains truly united, the outcome would be entirely different.

United, they would grow strong; divided, they would fall. If these tribes truly united, their strength would undergo a transformation, sufficient to stand against the Wuqiao tribe.

This was self-evident.

But the greatest problem remained: could the originally fragmented tribes overcome their divisions, compromise with each other, and ultimately unite as one?

To resolve this, the tribal elders and chiefs debated from morning until night.

Though they claimed to "form an alliance," every tribe clung to its own interests—arguing over how to apportion gains, who should compromise, who should yield.

Mo Hua listened from the sidelines, even growing drowsy from it.

Fortunately, in the end, a preliminary consensus was reached, and the alliance's framework took shape.

Just as Mo Hua thought the meeting had concluded and he could return to rest, Dan Lie, the Great Chief, spoke:

"The alliance plan has been established. Now, all Chiefs and Elders must implement it concretely."

"Next, we must discuss... the most important matter."

The Great Chiefs and Great Elders all instantly grew solemn.

Mo Hua's expression froze for a moment; he had no idea what this so-called "more important" matter actually was.

Could this matter really be more important than forming an alliance?

He hadn't heard even a whisper of it before now.

Just then, Great Chieftain Dan Lie's face grew solemn, and he said in a low voice:

"The Wu Jiu tribe's campaign against Zhu Que this time — its true purpose, beyond seizing the mountain realm and dominating the region, is most likely still for the long-planned…"

Great Chieftain Dan Lie paused briefly, did not continue, but instead turned his head to look at Lord Yan Zhu seated at the high seat.

Clearly this matter should be Lord Wuzhu's responsibility to explain.

Lord Yan Zhu's gaze was stern, his voice solemn, as he slowly uttered four words:

"The Wu Jiu Divine Descent."

Mo Hua, who had been on the verge of dozing off, gave a sudden jolt and slowly opened his eyes wide.

Wu Jiu… Divine Descent?!

(End of chapter)