Chapter 1161: Establishing a Foundation
As night fell, Mo Hua returned to the remote mountains of Wutu Mountain, resting his head on the fluffy belly of the big tiger, and began contemplating his next move:
How could he unify the Great Wilderness amid this war-torn chaos?
Even if he couldn't completely unite all three thousand mountain ranges and the thousands of tribes…
He should at least try to unify most of the powers within, in order to change the fate of these impoverished barbarian cultivators—and also to lay the foundation for his own future path toward Dao.
From now on, the three thousand mountain ranges south of Lì Prefecture would be his territory.
And to the north of Lì Prefecture, the Great Black Mountain borderlands—his homeland.
Putting it all together, across the vast region of Lì Prefecture from south to north, he would now have bases of operation.
It would undoubtedly be extremely difficult, especially since he was currently only at the Foundation Establishment stage.
But then again—what in this world isn't difficult?
The key lies in whether one wants to do it, dares to do it, and has the determination and perseverance to overcome every obstacle.
Even if one is just at Foundation Establishment, the things that must be done still have to be done.
The night wind was a little chilly.
Mo Hua burrowed further into the big tiger's embrace, nudging in for warmth. Only when he felt cozy again did he continue thinking.
"If one makes preparations, things will succeed. Without preparation, they will fail."
Since he had decided to do this, he had to plan thoroughly.
First of all—the princes and warlords of the Great Wilderness held vast territories and great power. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to rise up in rebellion and light the flames of revolt against the Dao Court.
The Dao Court also had its eyes hungrily set on the Great Wilderness. The armies of the Dao Military Division would sooner or later march in to suppress the rebellion.
The Great Wilderness and its barbarian tribes were bound to become the center of conflict.
And the region was already chaotic to begin with.
Each tribe had vastly different customs and beliefs, especially in their worship of gods. They were often savage, isolated, and backward.
Some of the larger tribes were like local tyrants. They would never tolerate another's rise on their doorstep.
Then there was another point—Mo Hua hadn't forgotten: this land was the ancestral domain of the "Master of the Great Wilderness."
Logically, there should still be remnants of the evil gods once worshipped here—divine relics, or followers who continued their faith.
There might even be fragmented divine corpses or embryonic-level evil god spawns still gestating—it wasn't out of the question.
If so, he'd have to be especially wary of the evil gods of the Great Wilderness.
After all, based on all the "atrocities" he committed against the evil gods back in Qianxue Prefecture, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was now the number one enemy of the Great Wilderness' dark deities.
Those evil gods probably wanted nothing more than to devour him alive…
The rebel kings of the Great Wilderness, their armies, the Dao Court's forces, the great tribes, the evil gods, the barbarian deities… All of this tangled together into a volatile, lethal mess.
And yet, after analyzing things carefully, Mo Hua found that maybe—it wasn't hopeless.
He wasn't particularly afraid of the evil gods.
Low-level divine remnants—even those evil god embryos—were just "snacks" for him. If anything, he welcomed the encounter.
As for true divine embryos of higher order, he'd simply have to be cautious, stay alert, and steer clear.
And if worse came to worst—he still had Big Pixiu.
That Pixiu might be a silly, stingy miser, but it was undeniably powerful. In critical moments, it might just be able to protect him, maybe even save his life.
As for the barbarian soldiers of the rebel kings and the Dao Court's armies—they were locked in fierce battle on the frontlines. That would likely continue for quite some time.
And that was exactly the opportunity he needed.
The chaos on the frontlines was the central concern, attracting the attention of all forces.
Even the karmic and prophetic powers of the great cultivators and ancient ancestors were entirely entangled there.
If Mo Hua simply bypassed the frontlines and stirred up trouble in the rear, it would actually let him avoid the scrutiny of Heaven's secrets, staying hidden in plain sight.
The great tribes of the region, though powerful, wouldn't be a threat in the short term as long as he didn't provoke them.
And many tribes were isolated and self-contained—perfect conditions for him to move quietly in the shadows.
Mo Hua pondered through all the trouble and, after mentally simulating the plan once more, he suddenly realized something unexpected: beneath the chaos, savagery, and war, the Great Wilderness might actually offer him the perfect alignment of time, place, and people.
His gaze brightened slightly.
Perhaps life didn't lack opportunities.
It only lacked the eyes to see them.
And that—was the true benefit of constantly learning, thinking, and cultivating the arts of karma and prophecy.
Still, to succeed, he would need to stay even more hidden… and even more cautious.
He would need to assume an identity in the Great Wilderness that was sufficiently respectable, sufficiently deceptive—
—and carried enough weight.
The next day, Mo Hua went to find Elder Zha Mu.
Elder Zha Mu served him tea.
It was camellia grown on Wutu Mountain—bitter, astringent, and spicy-hot, almost scalding to the lips.
Mo Hua took a sip, then asked Elder Zha Mu:
"You know my identity?"
Elder Zha Mu wasn't sure why Mo Hua asked this out of the blue, but answered sincerely:
"You call yourself 'Master Wu'—I assume you are a priest of the Royal Court of the Great Wilderness."
Mo Hua didn't respond, only giving a neutral expression that neither confirmed nor denied it. Then he asked:
"Have you ever seen other Wu priests?"
Elder Zha Mu replied, "When I was young, I once traveled to a major tribe to study. I had brief encounters with some Wu priests and was fortunate enough to learn a few shamanic arts. When I returned to the Wutu Tribe and cultivated diligently, I was lucky to become an elder."
Mo Hua nodded slightly, then asked in a roundabout way: "How much do you know about the Wu priesthood?"
Elder Zha Mu said, "This old one is dull of mind and knows little."
Mo Hua said, "I'll test you a little—just speak honestly."
Elder Zha Mu's expression grew a bit complicated. After some thought, he slowly said:
"The Wu Priesthood is one of the most sacred 'divine offices' in our Great Wilderness. Only those with pure bloodlines, innate brilliance, and spiritual affinity can qualify for selection."
"Once chosen, a Wu priest must abandon their previous identity—bloodline, name, all worldly ties—and devote themselves wholly to the service of the Master of the Great Wilderness."
"All Wu priests address themselves only as 'Master Wu' when facing outsiders."
"Only by demonstrating unwavering faith and earning great merit can a Wu priest rise to the rank of High Wu, at which point the Divine Lord may bestow upon them a sacred title."
Mo Hua's heart stirred slightly, though his voice remained calm as he asked:
"You also know of the Divine Lord?"
"Yes," Elder Zha Mu sighed reverently, "These days, the three thousand tribes each worship their own barbarian gods and no longer honor or even know the Divine Lord. This is the great sin of the tribes—a sign of their ignorance and shallowness…"
He frowned at the foolishness of the barbarians, then added solemnly:
"The Divine Lord is the Master of the Three Thousand Wildernesses—born of the endless Abyss, seated above the Desolate Heavens, gazing down upon all beings. The oldest and mightiest god of the Great Wilderness."
A trace of sorrow flashed in his expression. "But ever since the Great Wilderness was defeated by the Dao Court, its royal lineage wiped out, and its fate diminished, the miracles of the Divine Lord have ceased to appear. His divine name has slowly faded from memory."
"As the Divine Lord fell silent, countless other gods arose. Each tribe gained its own 'deity'—and so emerged the three thousand barbarian gods of the Wilderness…"
Elder Zha Mu shared everything he knew without concealment.
Mo Hua's gaze narrowed slightly as he sank into thought.
What Elder Zha Mu described differed somewhat from the background of the Great Wilderness' Divine Lord that Mo Hua already knew.
But then again, legends of deities had always been inconsistent and filled with contradictions.
Even among different believers, the image of the Divine Lord varied greatly from heart to heart.
This wasn't something easily investigated to its depths.
However, one thing Mo Hua was now more certain of—
The Master of the Great Wilderness had once been the ruling god of the Great Wilderness. And later, something must have happened—perhaps death, or slumber, or simply a long silence.
Once the Divine Lord fell silent, the divine system of the Great Wilderness collapsed into disarray.
Now, the Great Wilderness was in an era where three thousand barbarian gods coexisted—parasitizing tribes and dividing up the power of faith.
It was a great upheaval of the divine order.
And where there is chaos, there can be renewal. This had always been true through the ages.
For Mo Hua, this was precisely an opportunity.
Moreover, the identity of a "Wu Priest" in the Great Wilderness was indeed both revered—and useful.
Not to mention, Wu Priests were intermediaries between man and god. Their domain involved divine matters—perfectly aligned with Mo Hua's goals.
So he nodded solemnly and said to Elder Zha Mu:
"That's right. I am a Wu Priest."
Elder Zha Mu wasn't surprised. Ever since Mo Hua had introduced himself as "Master Wu," he had already suspected as much.
And given how this "Master Wu" had the power to meddle in the affairs of barbarian deities, it was clear he was no ordinary person.
He just hadn't expected a Wu Priest to look like this.
And the way he spoke the Dao Court's official dialect—so flawlessly, like someone who'd grown up in the heart of the Central Nine Provinces.
After hesitating for a moment, Elder Zha Mu asked in a hushed tone, "May I ask, honored Wu Priest… what brings you to our Wutu Tribe?"
The identity of a Wu Priest was far too lofty. He wouldn't come to such a tiny, impoverished tribe for no reason.
If he had come—he must be planning something.
Mo Hua nodded seriously and said, "I bear a mission of the utmost importance."
Elder Zha Mu froze.
Mo Hua's words were like heavy bells, each syllable weighed down by fate itself:
"I intend to—unify the Divine Path, and restore the Great Wilderness!"
It was like thunder crashing in his ears. Elder Zha Mu's eyes went wide.
Mo Hua placed a hand on his shoulder. "And it all begins—here, with your Wutu Tribe."
Elder Zha Mu's face froze. A chill surged through his body, and cold sweat soaked his back.
He thought the Wu Priest must be joking.
But someone of such nobility and power—how could he joke with him?
Unify the Divine Path?
Restore the Great Wilderness?
Either of those were earth-shattering ambitions.
What did either of those have to do with a tiny, starving tribe like Wutu?
The only contact the upper nobles of the Great Wilderness ever had with them was to draft some young men as cannon fodder when wars broke out.
And now he was saying they would be part of revitalizing the Great Wilderness?
Let alone "unifying the Divine Path."
That was divine territory—something only gods or beings close to gods should even think about!
"Wu… Wu Priest… You…" Elder Zha Mu's voice trembled with fear and confusion.
But Mo Hua simply asked, "How much longer can your tribe last?"
Elder Zha Mu thought of the starving children and emaciated elders and fell silent.
Mo Hua looked at him calmly, his voice gentle:
"'Zha Mu' means 'firewood'—to burn oneself for the tribe. You're already old. You don't even care about your own life anymore. What is there left to fear?"
"Listen to me. Do what I say. And I will guarantee the survival of your people."
"That little Zha Tu boy—I like him. I will pass down my Dao lineage to him and give him a future."
"This is already the best possible outcome."
"War has only just begun. The disaster will drag on—we don't know for how long. Would you rather sit and wait as the whole tribe starves to death?"
"Or take a risk, and fight for a future?"
"This choice, Elder Zha Mu, is yours to make."
Elder Zha Mu's brows furrowed deeply. Waves of emotion roared through his heart. For a long time, he couldn't decide.
At last, he looked up at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua's face was otherworldly handsome—not like any normal man.
His eyes were calm and deep, filled with a god's compassion for all living things.
Elder Zha Mu was shaken. Moved by something deeper, he slowly bent his old waist and gave Mo Hua the highest ceremonial bow of the Wutu Tribe.
With utmost respect, he declared:
"This old one, Zha Mu, and the entire Wutu Tribe, will obey the commands of the Wu Priest—unto death, without regret."
Mo Hua nodded in satisfaction.
After a moment's thought, he said, "Good. Prepare yourself—we set out tomorrow."
Elder Zha Mu froze, his face blank.
Tomorrow… set out?
...
After a full day of preparation, the next day, Elder Zha Mu gathered all the remaining combat strength of the Wutu Tribe.
He himself was merely at the early Foundation Establishment stage.
Other than him, the rest were all at the Qi Refining stage.
Just over twenty young barbarian cultivators with mediocre talent and less-than-impressive cultivation.
These were originally the "defectives" of the tribe.
After all, if they had even a bit more talent or cultivation, they'd have been harvested like leeks by the Royal Court of the Great Wilderness and thrown onto the front lines as cannon fodder. No way they'd still be here.
Aside from them, there were also a dozen or so older children.
And a handful of elderly, frail cultivators who were at least experienced, if nothing else.
Altogether, barely over forty people.
After war and famine, this was all that the Wutu Tribe could scrape together—everyone who could still be considered to have any fighting capability.
Little Zha Tu followed behind Mo Hua, acting as his personal assistant.
Elder Zha Mu looked at all the remaining vital force of the Wutu Tribe, then glanced at his little grandson. He couldn't help but ask Mo Hua:
"Lord Priest Wu… Are we really… going to fight?"
Mo Hua nodded. "Naturally."
Elder Zha Mu's heart clenched.
He didn't care about his own old bones—he'd die if he had to—but every one of these tribe members was like his own blood. Losing even one would ache deeply.
And little Zha Tu... that was a worry all its own.
But the arrow had already left the string—there was no turning back now.
Elder Zha Mu sighed internally:
"So be it. Sooner or later, we'll all die anyway. Whether by hunger or war, it's still death. Since our lives are already hanging by a thread, might as well let this Lord Priest Wu toss us around. I just hope he keeps his word—preserve the Wutu Tribe and protect my little Zha Tu's life…"
Hardening his heart, Elder Zha Mu gritted his teeth and declared: "Fine. Then we fight!"
Mo Hua saw Zha Mu's face, full of tragic heroism, and couldn't help but feel a little helpless. He consoled him:
"No need to be so tense. It's just the opening round—pretty simple, really."
And indeed, things went just as Mo Hua had said: very simple.
The first tribe Mo Hua targeted was the neighboring Wotai Tribe—famous for stealing food, money, people, and even lovers.
Their reputation was, quite frankly, garbage.
And since they were nearby, they became the perfect first target.
The whole operation didn't take long.
The three Foundation Establishment elders of the Wotai Tribe came out, and Mo Hua blasted each of their legs off with a fireball, one by one.
One of them tried to resist—so Mo Hua blasted off his other leg as well.
Then Elder Zha Mu personally went up to finish him off.
As a warning to others, the remaining two elders dropped to their knees and pledged loyalty on the spot.
The rest of the Wotai barbarian cultivators quickly followed suit.
And their local barbarian god? Didn't lift a finger to help.
Because that "god" had already been quietly eaten by Mo Hua ahead of time.
Just like that, the neighboring Wotai Tribe fell into Mo Hua's hands with hardly any effort.
Elder Zha Mu and the rest of the Wutu Tribe were all dumbfounded.
Especially when they saw Mo Hua in action—striking like a thunderclap, quick and ruthless, his fireballs shrouded in black flame like some "Demonic Fire God," wiping out the Wotai elders in a blink.
"He's that powerful?"
"Looks so young… Is he some blessed divine prodigy? Or a centuries-old monster in disguise?!"
Not only Elder Zha Mu—everyone from the Wutu Tribe now looked at Mo Hua with awe and reverence.
After subduing the Wotai Tribe, Mo Hua didn't go on a killing spree.
He only selected a few truly incorrigible troublemakers—the kind who'd never be loyal no matter what—and had Elder Zha Mu execute them. Their bodies were strung up on the wall as a warning to others.
Then, Mo Hua drafted a portion of the Wotai's able-bodied cultivators and set out for the next tribe.
At each new tribe, he repeated the same routine.
Fireball the elders.
Shock and awe the rest.
The masses, terrified of Mo Hua's "tyranny," submitted one by one.
Then he'd select a few more dissenters to make an example of, throw some meat to the masses to ease their resentment, and move on.
This cycle repeated.
With just one terrifying fireball spell and a mix of fear and favor, wherever Mo Hua went, the tribes fell like dominoes, pledging their allegiance.
In just two days, he had conquered six small tribes around Mount Wutu.
During a brief moment of rest, Elder Zha Mu couldn't help but ask, confused:
"Lord Priest Wu, why do you only cripple, not kill?"
After all, with Mo Hua's power, he could easily kill with one fireball. Why bother leaving the job for an old man like him to finish?
Mo Hua answered with a look of benevolence:
"I am the Priest Wu of the Great Wilderness. And you all… are its people. If I don't have to kill, I'd rather not."
Elder Zha Mu was stunned, deeply moved, and for the first time, felt a genuine reverence for Mo Hua.
To have the power to kill—but choose mercy.
That, indeed, was the character and bearing of a true Priest Wu.
...
Five more days passed.
By then, every subjugatable tribe around Mount Wutu had fallen under Mo Hua's "Priest Wu" banner.
Only one remained: the most powerful tribe in the region—the Wulu Tribe.
By now, Mo Hua had gathered a "militia" of two hundred able-bodied barbarian cultivators, conscripted from the various tribes he had "liberated."
Looking over the land he had "conquered," and the ragtag, patchwork army behind him that resembled more of a traveling circus than a disciplined force…
Looking over the territory he had "won," and the ragtag patchwork "army" behind him—full of various oddballs and misfits—that resembled more of a traveling circus than a disciplined force…
Mo Hua stood tall with a solemn expression… but couldn't help grumbling internally.
Originally, he'd planned to sneak into the Dao Soldier Division, head south with their forces to pacify the Great Wilderness, earn merit, and gain a respectable title.
But after saving the big tiger and accidentally wandering into the heart of the Great Wilderness…
That plan was toast.
Still…
Wasn't what he was doing now also, in a way…
A different form of making achievements and establishing a name?
(End of this Chapter)