The Quest for Immortality - Chapter 1159 (Patreon)

Chapter 1159: God Hunter

“What?” Elder Zhamu’s heart trembled.

Mo Hua had no choice but to repeat himself. “Write down the names, origins, locations, and methods of worship of all the ‘Savage Gods’ you know nearby.”

“Not a single one is to be left out.”

Elder Zhamu had no idea what this “senior” before him intended to do, but he felt that beneath that handsome face and those crystal-clear eyes flickered a dangerously sharp light.

It made him feel as though he was committing a crime.

The image of the God of Wutu being torn apart and devoured alive resurfaced in his mind.

His voice quivered. “This… might not be appropriate…”

Mo Hua said calmly, “Write down the names and locations of the Savage Gods, and I’ll ensure your grandson remains safe and sound.”

Elder Zhamu shuddered.

Mo Hua added softly, “The Savage Gods can’t protect your grandson. I can.”

Elder Zhamu fell silent for a long moment before wordlessly grabbing a sheet of paper. Without a single unnecessary word, he wrote down every name of every Savage God he knew of, filling the page completely.

Mo Hua took the sheet, glanced at it, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

For some reason, Elder Zhamu suddenly regretted it—deeply. But he didn’t dare go back on his word. Cautiously, he asked, “Senior, may I ask what you intend to do?”

Mo Hua folded the paper and tucked it into his robe. “That’s not your concern. Just act as if nothing ever happened.”

“Yes…” Elder Zhamu’s face showed bitterness. He hesitated a little, then asked softly, “By the way, Senior, how should I address you?”

“I…”

Mo Hua was about to give his real name but changed his mind midway. “Just call me… Mr. Wu.”

“Mr. Wu?” Elder Zhamu blinked. “Are you also one of the royal shamans?”

Mo Hua’s gaze flickered slightly. He didn’t answer.

Elder Zhamu didn’t dare ask further. “In any case, our Wutu Tribe will never forget Mr. Wu’s great kindness.”

Mo Hua nodded and handed him a small bottle of pills. “Give these to your grandson—one each morning and evening. During this time, he must stay calm and rest. Here’s another bottle of Fasting Pills—two per day. Don’t let him go hungry.”

Elder Zhamu accepted them with gratitude, bowing deeply. “Old as I am, I thank you for your mercy, Mr. Wu.”

When he looked up again, the “Mr. Wu” before him was already gone— vanished so quietly that Elder Zhamu had no idea how he had disappeared.

A shiver ran down his spine, and his respect for the mysterious young “shaman” grew even deeper. He bowed low toward the empty space before him.

…

An hour later.

Having left the Wutu Tribe, Mo Hua arrived at a canyon.

Inside that canyon dwelled another tribe—the Wotai Tribe.

The tribes of the Great Wilderness were often named “from the land itself”—after mountains, plants, or beasts. “Wotai” in the barbarian tongue meant “rat.”

Their totem was indeed a snarling rat demon with sharp fangs. Their patron Savage God was also a Rat God.

This, too, was written on Elder Zhamu’s “note.”

Mo Hua wasted no time. The moment he had that “note,” he began his hunt for Savage Gods.

He had always practiced the principle of learning through doing, and his action was as swift as ever.

Besides, his divine sense was starving.

He had long been anxious over its stagnation, unable to grow stronger. Now, finally, there was hope.

With his “menu” in hand, he concealed his presence and entered the Wotai Tribe.

The tribe was small—stronger than the Wutu Tribe, but not by much. A few Foundation Establishment cultivators, and a few hundred tribesmen—nothing Mo Hua couldn’t handle.

He moved unseen among them, but even after several rounds of searching, he still couldn’t find the altar or portal used to worship their Savage God.

He even tried divination with demon bones, but every time his karmic sense reached toward the tribe, it merged with the aura of the tribesmen and vanished.

Mo Hua concluded this must be one of the Savage Gods’ abilities— the gods and their believers shared an interwoven fate.

The believers offered faith; the god granted blessings. Their karmic ties intertwined.

When disaster struck a believer, the god would use divine power to dissolve it. When disaster befell the god, the believers’ faith would offset part of that karmic backlash.

Thus, when someone like Mo Hua came to trouble a Savage God, his karmic deductions would be disrupted—unable to lock onto the god’s location.

Such was the symbiotic nature between god and worshipper.

Of course, in practice, that “symbiosis” often became twisted.

Greedy, corrupt believers could taint the faith, causing their god to fall. Or an evil god could corrupt its believers, turning them into fiends.

This “mutual dependence” was fragile—powerful yet easily perverted.

Divine studies were always complex, obscure, and perilous.

Mo Hua had no solution for it. He wouldn’t resort to slaughtering believers just to draw the god out. That was something only an evil god would do.

So he waited—patiently. Waited for the Wotai Tribe to perform its next sacrifice. Waited for the Rat God to reveal itself.

Days passed.

The Wotai Tribe raised dead rats for offerings, their grounds reeking of filth and rot. Their people were greedy, deceitful, prone to theft and lust.

In just three days, Mo Hua witnessed over twenty acts of theft and adultery.

He could already tell—the god and its worshippers deserved each other.

Rats and men, snakes in one den. None of them were worth pity.

So when the time came, Mo Hua had no intention of being merciful.

Four or five days later, the tribe began its grand ritual.

Their sacrifices were human. But unlike the Wutu Tribe, they didn’t offer their own— they kidnapped people from other tribes and used slaves as offerings.

Even their sacrifices were stolen.

Each victim’s throat was slit; their bodies hung by ropes over a cliff as blood dripped down the rock.

Mo Hua used his Water Shadow Step, walking straight down the sheer cliff as if it were flat ground.

Fifty zhang below, hidden behind thick forest and mist, a rough altar had been carved into the rock—before a feral idol of a bull-headed demon.

Mo Hua frowned. “The Wotai Tribe doesn’t worship a Rat God?”

He waited.

As the blood flowed and the ritual began, the dreamscape of divine thought twisted open.

Mo Hua once again used the Sword Bone as a medium and slipped into the Savage God’s dream.

Inside the dream, he stood within a massive temple—its walls crude and savage. At its center stood a bull-headed idol. Yet the being feasting before it… had the head of a rat.

Mo Hua understood instantly. The Rat God had even stolen its temple.

Suppressing his aura, Mo Hua appeared as nothing more than a fair-skinned child.

The Rat God was overjoyed at the sight. “These believers actually caught such a tender human child for me? No wonder I’ve blessed them with prosperity. Delightful, delightful.”

Mo Hua stared silently.

The Rat God grinned, baring yellow fangs. “Little one, one bite and you’ll be gone.”

Mo Hua’s face darkened.

A gust of evil wind stirred—the Rat God lunged, its jaw gaping wide.

But its teeth were stopped— caught in Mo Hua’s small, white hands.

Those delicate hands carried the weight of a thousand mountains.

The Rat God’s face froze. “Oh no… I’ve picked the wrong prey!”

In the next instant, Mo Hua’s fist blazed with golden light. One punch—and the Rat God shattered like an eggshell.

Then his other hand rose, igniting a tiny fire array that refined the god’s divine thought into essence— which he inhaled in one breath.

When it was done, Mo Hua left.

He cut down the hanging sacrifices, laying them gently at the cliff’s edge. Whether they lived or died was their fate.

As for the tribe, he decided to let them be.

Yes, they were greedy and depraved, but not to the point of extinction. This was the Great Wilderness, after all. He wasn’t the law here.

He crossed out “Wotai Rat God” on Elder Zhamu’s list and set off for the next target—

the Wulu Tribe’s Wolf God.

“Wulu,” in the barbarian tongue, meant “vicious wolf.” Their totem was a blood-colored wolf, and their god, a savage Wolf Deity.

The tribe itself was powerful—two thousand strong, with several late Foundation cultivators, and a Wolf God whose divine thought neared the third rank.

But it was also the one that died the fastest.

From start to finish, Mo Hua took half an hour.

He happened to arrive during their blood sacrifice.

In the center of the wide plaza stood a crimson wolf idol. Before it, offerings of minced meat— human flesh.

They butchered people alive, grinding them into pulp.

Mo Hua was too late to save them. The ritual began, the divine dream opened— and Mo Hua stepped in, killed the Wolf God cleanly, refined its divine thought, and left.

He considered exterminating the tribe— after all, they were brutal, murderous, and took pleasure in butchering captives.

But then he saw the infants—newborns who had yet to see blood. And some warriors who only killed in battle, not for cruelty’s sake. They were trapped by their tribe’s nature, not by their own hearts.

Mo Hua sighed.

A tribe’s good and evil were intertwined. To kill indiscriminately would make him no different from a beast.

Besides, he was still burdened by the Life Calamity Curse cast by his shibo— for now, he couldn’t kill men.

He looked one last time at the bloody Wulu Tribe and turned away.

Another name struck off the list. Another hunt awaited.

In the following days, aside from occasionally returning to Wutu Mountain to visit the old tiger—playing with it, stroking its fur, roasting meat for it—

Mo Hua spent all his time pursuing his grim mission: the Hunt for the Savage Gods.

An unseen shadow moved across the Great Wilderness. One by one, the Savage Gods fell, erased without a trace.

No one saw him. No one knew him.

Even the gods worshiped by thousands— when they faced Mo Hua, they died before understanding what had come for them.

Every Savage God who saw Mo Hua— died.

Thus, none remained to speak his name.

And as he devoured more and more divine thought, Mo Hua’s spiritual sense grew sharper— the threshold of twenty-two patterned divine thought already within reach.

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