Chapter 1268: I Am the Divine Lord

When the golden radiance atop the altar faded, and the sunlight that had turned night into day withdrew its glow,

the beings of Zhu Que Mountain saw with their own eyes the form of a "Divine Lord" never before witnessed.

He seemed a "child," like the primal infant at the dawn of heaven and earth, skin like snow, body like uncarved jade, inner golden light concealed, untainted and pure.

On his forehead glowed a single Great Pixiu golden horn.

His body, like glass, breathed in and out the Great Wild Dragon Soul.

Deep within his eyes, black, white, and gold swirled, like the three-colored lotus of the Dao unfolding.

Divine majesty, human compassion, and demonic slaughter merged into one, forming an incomparable divine aura beyond mortal ken.

Before this, the myriad wild cultivators of the wilderness may have believed in gods, but had never seen one with their own eyes.

Yet after today, "gods" in their hearts acquired a tangible, concrete "form."

When they chanted the name of "God," the image that naturally arose in their minds was this Divine Lord: golden-jade body, Great Pixiu horn, bearing the Dragon Soul, like a primal infant.

Countless wild tribe cultivators were stunned by the direct witness of a god.

But what stunned them even more was what came next.

They witnessed with their own eyes the "battle" between gods.

It was this Divine Lord—beautiful as jade, luminous as glass, golden-child infant—versus the ancient, ferocious Lord Wuzhu.

But if it was called a "battle," it was more like a "slaughter."

More shocking still: this tiny, jade-glass, golden-child infant Divine Lord, before the colossal, grotesque, terrifying Lord Wuzhu reeking of death and decay, appeared no more than a speck—an ant.

Yet when he moved, this golden-jade infant Divine Lord became utterly brutal.

His fist, white as flawless jade, looked harmless—but with a single punch, he shattered the Lord Wuzhu's wing, thick with potent death-decay power.

The strength of the Divine Dao was terrifying.

Thereafter, he raised his hand, and countless sacred runes appeared in the sky—golden light, green wood, cold water, blazing fire, thick earth swirling endlessly.

Then, with a single finger point, a strange black flame emerged from his fingertip.

With a bare hand clench, laws converged into radiant light, coalescing into a supreme divine sword—its blade's edge struck terror into all beings.

The Lord Wuzhu poured forth all his divine power, unleashing countless divine arts.

Sword of Death Feathers, Sea of Rotting Flesh, Barrier of Vengeful Souls, Prison of Filth…

Darkening heaven and earth, overwhelming karmic force turning mountains and rivers pale, filling all life with dread—yet not a single blow touched the Divine Lord.

The Sword of Death Feathers could not pierce the flawless Golden Body.

The Sea of Rotting Flesh could not corrode the golden-jade form.

Vengeful souls clinging to him were pierced through by the golden light of the Great Pixiu horn.

The entire sky's filth was scattered by a single dragon roar.

Yet the Divine Lord's sacred runes, like a net, tore the Lord Wuzhu's massive wings into shreds.

The strange divine flame from his fingertip surged endlessly, pinning the Lord Wuzhu down, forcing him to bow his head.

The brilliant swordlight, sharper than a blade that cleaved heaven itself, pierced the Lord Wuzhu's divine body until it was riddled with countless holes…

Finally, after a "bloody" battle, the outcome was decided.

The colossal, dark, death-rotting, terrifying Lord Wuzhu was bound fast by the net of sacred runes.

First, a brilliant divine light coalesced into a divine mind-sword, sharp as a reversed galaxy, slicing him clean through the waist.

The Lord Wuzhu's chest was split open, revealing his trembling "heart."

Then the Divine Lord extended his golden-jade hands, plunged them into the Lord Wuzhu's chest, and with a clear cry, tore out that divine heart with his bare hands…

Hand-tearing a god…

No words could describe the impact of this brutal scene.

In that instant, every wild cultivator on Zhu Que Mountain stared upward, frozen in shock.

Their awe paralyzed their minds, nearly halting thought.

Could such a "being" truly exist—capable of tearing a god apart with bare hands?

The wild cultivators had never even entertained such a notion.

Their normal imagination could not stretch far enough to conceive such an absurd sight.

And now, this image they had never dared imagine appeared before them—suddenly, vividly, undeniably real.

At the same time, Mo Hua's earlier voice echoed again in their ears:

"I am the Lord Wuzhu of the Divine Lord!"

"My great power comes from the Divine Lord!"

"Today, in the name of Lord Wuzhu, I summon the Divine Lord to descend and slay every heretical god in this world!"

Divine Lord…

The one who can tear gods apart, slaughter ancient gods like the Lord Wuzhu…

Without doubt, only the "Divine Lord."

Only the true master of the Great Wild.

What the former master of the Great Wild looked like, the current wild beings did not know.

But from this day forward, the image of the master of the Great Wild had quietly become this Divine Lord: uncarved jade golden body, Great Pixiu horn, Azure Dragon soul, eyes opening and closing like the three-colored Dao lotus, embodying divine, demonic, and human traits, returning to primal simplicity, childlike in aura, capable of subduing heretics and tearing apart the Lord Wuzhu.

The master of the Great Wild had become Mo Hua's form.

This, then, was the Divine Lord.

Faith, like sparks, ignited one by one in their hearts, then spread like a gale.

Almost every wild cultivator's chest burned with the flame of faith, searing hot.

They could not help but kneel upon the earth, offering their most devout faith to the "Divine Lord," who had once again revealed his great divine miracle to the Great Wild.

Not only the Danque, Shuguo, Yan Yi, Hong Luan, and Huoying clans, but even the Bifang clan and the hostile Wujiao clan all fled in panic, kneeling down in vast numbers.

The cries of "The Divine Lord is Immortal!" echoed throughout heaven and earth.

Upon the altar, Mo Hua tore apart the "heart" of the Wujiao Great God with his bare hands, shattered Its divine essence, then immediately extended two fingers and pointed, summoning a massive array of overwhelming power that burned mountains and boiled seas, refining the Wujiao Great God's divine power into thick smoke.

Taking advantage of the array's burning flames and the overwhelming concealment of Xiong Xiongliehuo, Mo Hua opened his mouth wide, sucked in sharply, and secretly swallowed all the Wujiao power into his mouth.

His movements were subtle; except for the three nearby Lord Wuzhu, almost no one could see that this "Divine Lord" had slain the Wujiao Great God—and then devoured It.

Lord Yan Zhu, Lord Qing Zhu, and the Black Vulture Elder, who had witnessed this firsthand, all widened their pupils, barely believing their own eyes.

After an unknown length of time, the dark clouds dispersed, the blazing fire faded, and all disturbances vanished.

Before the eyes of all, the Wujiao Great God "perished" in the sea of fire, its divine power dissolving into nothingness.

Mo Hua also nonchalantly licked his lips.

The Wujiao Great God had indeed completed divine descent.

It had descended upon Zhu Que Mountain—but also descended into Mo Hua's stomach.

And Mo Hua had completed his own "divine descent."

He had completed his divine descent upon the Dao of the Divine Lord, as the Master of Dahuang.

With the "death" of the Wujiao Great God, the altar returned to its place, and the effects of divine descent gradually receded.

The boundary between illusion and reality became clear once more.

All divine Dao entities once again retreated into invisibility.

All supernatural phenomena returned to nothingness, as if they had never existed.

Like a god's dream, a grand illusion—yet in the minds of all, an indelible impression was engraved.

And now, heaven and earth returned to silence.

Nightfall once again enveloped the land.

Yet this divine battle, though long, had already passed the Mao hour; the east was beginning to lighten.

A red sun rose slowly above Zhu Que Mountain.

Mo Hua stood atop the high altar, beneath the crimson dawn.

The golden glow of the morning clouds draped over him, as if gilding him with Jin Guang.

At this moment, he had departed from the dream realm of the divine Dao, revealing before all eyes his flesh-and-blood form.

Yet the two as one, there was no difference.

In the illusory realm of divine thought, he was his own Divine Lord.

In the real world, he was his own Lord Wuzhu.

As night broke, Mo Hua slowly opened his arms toward the masses kneeling below the altar, his voice solemn:

"Today, in my name as Lord Wuzhu, I summon the Divine Lord to descend, wielding the supreme divine sword to slay the Wujiao God."

"From today onward, the ancient Divine Lord shall return to Dahuang, reclaim Its divine seat, wield Its authority, and bless the people of Dahuang, sparing this land from calamity."

"From today onward, the Dao of the Divine Lord shall spread throughout Dahuang."

"In great calamity, those who believe in the Divine Lord live; those who defy the Divine Lord die."

Mo Hua clasped his hands in reverence, sacred and devout: "... May the Divine Lord above protect our Dahuang."

Beneath the altar, the multitude bowed in worship, chanting the ancient incantations:

"Those who believe in the Divine Lord live; those who defy the Divine Lord die."

"May the Divine Lord above protect our Dahuang."

"As the sun and moon never wither, the Divine Lord shall never perish."

"As heaven and earth share eternity, unyielding through ten thousand ages..."

The voices of devotion rose into the clouds, shaking the mountains, spreading across the wilds of Dahuang...

Thus, the ancient name of the "Divine Lord," once lost to history, began to "revive" once more across the vast Dahuang...

Thus ended the tribal war between Wujiao and the Zhu Que Mountain realm.

The outcome of Wujiao's divine descent decided the war's conclusion.

The Wujiao Great God perished, the Divine Lord appeared, the divine battle was lost, faith was obliterated—the Wujiao army was utterly defeated.

Many Wujiao barbarian soldiers, having witnessed the Divine Lord crush the Wujiao Great God with divine power, saw their once-firm faith shatter in an instant, twisting instead into devotion to the Divine Lord.

They no longer worshipped the Wujiao God, but began to praise the "Divine Lord."

The battle of gods is cruel.

The struggle of faith is equally cold and real.

The weak are unworthy of worship—so too are gods.

But not all abandoned their faith...

At least the Wujiao Young Master, the vast majority of Wujiao's generals, high-ranking elders, and some loyal barbarian troops still clung to their beliefs.

Their faith was inseparable from the tribe's interests.

Even after witnessing it with their own eyes, they could never admit the Wujiao Great God's defeat and death.

Nor could they ever acknowledge Mo Hua, this so-called Lord Wuzhu blessed by the "Divine Lord."

The Wujiao clan had utterly lost the war in the Zhu Que Mountain realm.

But this did not mean they had no hope left in the broader Dahuang theater.

Zhu Que Mountain was merely the main battlefield; elsewhere, across countless smaller realms, significant forces still remained.

These Wujiao barbarians still waged war across the land for their tribe.

They still carried the Wujiao Young Master's ambition—to transform into a dragon—and the Wujiao clan's vision of unifying Dahuang.

Therefore, the Wujiu Clan still has a chance to rise again.

The Wujiu Clan had plotted for three generations; their young master harbored ambition and would never abandon his goals after a single defeat.

And when Mo Hua summoned the Divine Lord to descend, manifest before mortals, and drew the masses to worship him.

The Wujiu young master immediately sensed the tide had turned, and swiftly "cut off the wounded limb," leading a group of generals, trusted followers, and surviving troops to flee from Zhu Que Mountain.

With his Dragon Mark incarnation's power, if he wished to leave, no one could stop him.

Not even Mo Hua could.

The boundary between illusion and reality exists only upon the altar.

His true, formidable "divine power" exists solely within the realm of divine thought—it cannot harm the Wujiu young master and others beneath the altar.

Even if it could harm them, his fate's "Destiny Curse" still stands—he may kill a god, but not a mortal.

Thus, he could only watch as the Wujiu young master escaped the Zhu Que Mountain realm.

It was not only the Wujiu young master who fled.

Bi Jie of the Bifang Clan, along with senior figures from the Yan Yi Clan, Hong Luan Clan, and Huoying Clan, and even some elders from the Dan Que Clan, fearing Mo Hua's unification of divine authority, chose to "defect."

Throughout Zhu Que Mountain, a horizontal "schism" occurred from top to bottom.

The dividing line was "faith" in Mo Hua, in the Divine Lord.

Believers stayed; non-believers left.

Mo Hua silently observed all this unfold, offering little resistance.

Fate always sifts through people, again and again.

And such sifting always repeats, enduring many twists and turns…

…

The next day, in the great hall of Shu Gu Clan.

Mo Hua sat upon the Lord Wuzhu's seat.

Lord Yan Zhu, Lord Qing Zhu, and the Black Vulture elder stood below, pale-faced and dared not raise their eyes to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua asked: "Have you decided?"

Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu remained silent, their hearts uneasy.

But the Black Vulture elder suddenly knelt before Mo Hua with a thud and said: "This old man offers his broken body to serve the Divine Lord and devote himself to Lord Wuzhu."

He was the Wujiu Clan's Lord Wuzhu, and thus knew well the antiquity and greatness of the Wujiu Great God.

Precisely because of this, he understood all too clearly what manner of terrifying divine existence could tear apart the Wujiu God.

And he also deeply knew that this youthful-faced "Lord Wuzhu" before him was equally terrifying.

For he was a monster who could summon divine descent—without ritual, without offering, without even a divine relic.

Standing there, uttering just "Summon the Divine Lord to descend," and the Divine Lord descended.

He might as well be the Divine Lord's own son.

Summoning divine descent by mere words—this was an unimaginably terrifying power among divine practitioners, among all Lord Wuzhu; his divine lineage was terrifyingly strong.

It also made this lifelong servant of the gods, the Black Vulture elder, envy him until his eyes turned red.

A wise man adapts to circumstances—the Black Vulture elder was the first to submit.

Having endured the prior bloody battle, he was already like a candle flickering in the wind; if he did not surrender soon and cling to life, he would truly perish.

Seeing the Black Vulture elder kneel, Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu felt bitter, and lowered their heads to kneel before Mo Hua.

They were both late Jin Dan, both Upper Wuzhu, with their own dignity.

But having witnessed the cataclysmic divine battle that day, even as Upper Wuzhu, they had no choice but to kneel before Mo Hua.

Kneeling might mean losing the dignity of an Upper Wuzhu.

But not kneeling meant lacking even the basic "common sense" of a Lord Wuzhu.

"We… are willing to face fire and boiling water… for Lord Wuzhu…"

Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu said in unison.

Mo Hua gave a slight nod.

A fence needs three stakes; a good divine trickster naturally needs three helpers.

If these three late Jin Dan Upper Wuzhu could serve him, his own authority as the Divine Lord's Lord Wuzhu would grow stronger.

Lord Yan Zhu raised his eyes to Mo Hua, his gaze filled with fear, hesitating to speak.

Mo Hua said: "Speak if you have something to say."

Lord Yan Zhu then cautiously said: "Lord… Lord Wuzhu, if you find my divine relic… undesirable, perhaps…"

Mo Hua shook his head. "No need. I don't mind."

Lord Yan Zhu choked on his words, unable to finish.

Lord Qing Zhu and the Black Vulture elder also showed expressions of worry.

Mo Hua comforted them: "Rest assured. Serve me faithfully, and when the time comes, I shall return your divine relics."

The three dared not doubt whether he was merely painting a pie—they bowed and replied: "Thank you, Lord Wuzhu."

Mo Hua nodded, seeing his goal achieved, and waved his hand:

"Enough. Go and rest."

These three Lord Wuzhu had just endured a great battle, their brains nearly shaken loose; their divine thoughts were nearly exhausted. If they didn't rest soon, they might die before even serving him.

The three bowed and said: "Yes."

As they left, Mo Hua suddenly called out to Lord Qing Zhu: "You stay."

Lord Qing Zhu was startled, but remained as ordered.

Lord Yan Zhu and the Black Vulture elder were puzzled, but dared not ask, and bowed their farewells.

In the hall, only Mo Hua and Lord Qing Zhu remained.

Mo Hua pondered for a moment, then looked at Lord Qing Zhu's lower abdomen and suddenly asked, "You… are you pregnant?"

Lord Qing Zhu's face instantly changed; her already pale complexion lost all trace of color, and she stammered:

"My lord Wuzhu, you… you…"

She seemed to want to say something, but dared not speak, and had no idea how Mo Hua had found out.

Yet, remembering that Mo Hua was the shaman of the Divine Master, serving a deity so impossibly powerful and deeply favored by the god, capable of piercing through the mist to know hidden truths, it was hardly surprising.

Thinking of this, Lord Qing Zhu grew even more terrified, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Mo Hua frowned, slightly surprised.

It's true…

From outward appearance, Lord Qing Zhu showed not the slightest trace of pregnancy, not even a hint of altered qi.

Even on the altar, during her life-or-death battle with Lord Yan Zhu and the Black Vulture Elder, she had shown no sign of carrying a child.

Only when the Witch Vulture God descended did the boundary between illusion and reality blur.

Mo Hua's divine awareness also "descended" into the mortal realm, and through the god's manifested eyes, he saw a strange "vitality" in Lord Qing Zhu's abdomen.

Mo Hua was uncertain whether this was pregnancy, which was why he asked her that question.

Though Lord Qing Zhu said nothing, her expression revealed that his guess was almost certainly correct.

This female shaman, who worshipped Leng Qingqiu's Dao and used her beauty to entice men, truly carried a child…

Seeing Lord Qing Zhu's pale face and beads of cold sweat on her forehead, clearly gripped by extreme tension,

Mo Hua sighed softly and said, "Go rest. Take good care of yourself… I will tell no one about this."

Lord Qing Zhu froze, her expression startled, then secretly released a breath of relief.

She bowed deeply to Mo Hua and said sincerely, "Thank you, my lord Wuzhu."

Mo Hua waved his hand.

Lord Qing Zhu bowed and withdrew.

Mo Hua watched her retreating back, pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

A shaman he had met by chance, regardless of who fathered the child, had nothing to do with him; there was no need to dig into her private affairs.

Mo Hua set the matter aside for now.

Yet he had not anticipated that this child, whose heavenly fate had been concealed so deeply by Lord Qing Zhu, would truly be bound to him by countless karmic threads…

But at this moment, Mo Hua was utterly unaware.

His thoughts were fixed on something else—a matter of utmost importance:

To completely refine and consume the Witch Vulture Great God's mental force, then attempt to break through to the twenty-fourth pattern of his divine awareness.

The greatest threshold to his Golden Core formation.

…