The Quest for Immortality - Chapter 1166 (Patreon)

Chapter 1166: The Grand Shaman

Thus Mo Hua held the seat over the second-grade Heijiao mountain realm. While he oversaw the seizure of savage children to reestablish teaching and transmission, he also forged barbarian armor to strengthen the tribes’ cultivators and sent them out to subdue the surrounding lands. In his spare moments, he followed the lists Elder Zhamu had pried out, moving in secret to hunt Savage Gods, devour their mind-force, and further temper his divine sense.

Life was busy and full, leaving Mo Hua little room to mind anything else.

Naturally, the pace of external campaigns slowed in a visible way.

The Heijiao mountain realm was twice the size of the Wutu mountain realm.

There were more than twenty tribes of all sizes spread across it, many of them far from weak.

Mo Hua withdrew behind the scenes and refused to take the field. Letting Wusha and the others fight on their own, the wars became, as expected, harder and slower.

But this was a stage they had to pass through.

As a “shaman,” Mo Hua could not always charge at the front, nor could he keep striking personally and leave behind a trail of traces and flaws.

And Wusha and the rest had to stand on their own, becoming sharp “blades” to conquer on his behalf.

That required a period of grinding and growth.

This process would inevitably be accompanied by casualties among the tribal cultivators, all kinds of setbacks and failures, and it would take a relatively long time.

All of that was unavoidable.

Without this tempering, the army under his banner could never take shape, nor could it possess any real fighting power.

At the very least, within a second-grade realm they needed the independent ability to campaign, to subdue, and to pacify the small tribes.

Among the three thousand wilds, the vast majority were second-grade realms, and small tribes were the most numerous.

Mo Hua was only one man; he couldn’t be in two places at once.

He had more important things to do: preach the Dao, cultivate divine sense, and seek Core Formation. He could not swing a butcher’s blade to kill chickens and personally pacify every small tribe.

Thus it was crucial that Wusha’s group develop the ability to fight on their own and stabilize the realms.

That would save Mo Hua a great deal of time.

Only, at the starting stage, the pace of conquest would inevitably slow.

This stage lasted half a year.

After a full six months, Wusha finally led the Wulu Tribe, Heijiao Tribe, Wotai Tribe, Wutu Tribe, and the allied savage cultivators to completely conquer and pacify the second-grade Heijiao mountain realm.

Strictly speaking, half a year was already very short.

Yet Mo Hua still found it dragging.

His ambition was too large. At that speed, truly unifying the three thousand wilds might take a thousand years.

After all, the wilds were not all small realms. There were many great realms and great tribes.

Those were the hardest “bones” to chew—calling them impassable heavenly chasms was no exaggeration.

After unifying the Wutu and Heijiao realms, Mo Hua faced a sharp question:

Should he march on a third-grade realm?

Two thousand li to the southwest of Heijiao lay a third-grade savage realm.

Mo Hua took time to go once. Concealing himself within its borders, he looked over the situation and, upon returning, put the thought to rest.

It wasn’t remotely doable…

That southwestern third-grade realm was too vast—by rough estimate, as large as ten Heijiao realms.

It had no unified name either.

Within it nearly ten third-grade tribes carved up the land.

And every one of those tribes had a late-stage Golden Core savage cultivator sitting in town.

Mo Hua was inwardly shocked.

This wasn’t an ordinary third-grade realm but a “strong third-grade” giant.

If it had been a small third-grade realm with only one or two third-grade tribes and a highest cultivation around early Golden Core, Mo Hua might have entertained the idea.

But a strong third-grade realm like that was a true colossus—far too powerful to touch.

With the patch of land he’d taken and the strength he’d amassed, barging into a third-grade realm would see him turned to ash in a blink.

He didn’t even need to look at the whole realm—any one of those third-grade great tribes, plucked at random, would be enough to crush his current alliance.

After all, he didn’t have a single Golden Core under his command.

Even if he ignored the backlash of lifebane sha and acted himself by driving the Great Void God-Slaying Sword, he could only behead Golden Cores whose divine sense patterns were under twenty-two.

Mid-stage and late-stage Golden Core cultivators—without the collapse of large-scale arrays to borrow strength from—were opponents he couldn’t beat.

A third-grade realm was out of the question.

Then he could only keep expanding into the surrounding second-grade small realms and continue hoarding strength.

After thinking it through, Mo Hua summoned Wusha.

Inside the command tent, Wusha saluted Mo Hua, half-kneeled, and said, “Shaman Lord, wise and sagely.” His eyes burned with fervor.

They had now occupied both the Wutu mountain realm and the Heijiao mountain realm—two complete second-grade realms.

This was something Wusha had never dared dream of in his life.

By savage history and tradition, relying on the tribe’s strength to conquer and pacify a realm took decades, even a hundred years or more.

Most tribes—most savage cultivators—would not accomplish such a feat in their entire lives.

Now, under the Shaman Lord’s guidance, they had done it in half a year. It was nothing short of a “miracle.”

The only regret was that though he, the chieftain who fought at the front, led the conquests, he was not the master of the realms.

The true lord of the Wutu and Heijiao realms was the Shaman Lord.

Such a vast territory, so many people, and real power—these were all in the Shaman Lord’s hands.

A sliver of greed flickered, unbidden, in Wusha’s eyes as he looked at Mo Hua.

Naturally, the gaze did not escape Mo Hua.

Mo Hua sighed inwardly.

He had guessed right. Savage nature was hard to change, especially in people like Wusha—clever, greedy, bloodthirsty, and a tribal chieftain to boot.

Wusha might indeed be “loyal” to him.

But inside, the greed ran deep.

The loyalty was sincere; the greed was just as ingrained. Even Wusha himself couldn’t suppress those thoughts.

Before him, Wusha might be “loyal.”

But with the wrong timing, greed could turn his heart against its master.

This was the temperament of most adult savage cultivators.

Therefore, they must not be allowed to stop.

Since they were “wolves,” they had to be driven to keep conquering.

Mo Hua’s expression turned stern as he said slowly:

“Seven days from now, you will lead the Wulu Tribe and the Heijiao Tribe, together with the newly-subdued Hejin and Qilian Tribes, and continue west to campaign against a third realm.”

Wusha froze for a heartbeat, then cupped his hands. “Understood.”

After campaign upon campaign, some dissatisfaction stirred in Wusha’s heart, but he dared not object.

Knowing his mind, Mo Hua added, “That realm—I intend to name it ‘Wusha’ mountain realm.”

Wusha blinked; then his whole body trembled. “Wusha Realm…”

Mo Hua nodded. “Yes. If you take it, it will bear your name.”

“Not only you—realms conquered in the future may be named after your children or your clansmen.”

“This is a supreme honor, and it is the Divine Lord’s reward for your fight-to-the-death service.”

Wusha trembled with excitement. In an instant all the little thoughts were blown away; only the most ardent loyalty to the Shaman Lord remained in his heart.

Kneeling, he swore, “Wusha will fight bravely for the Shaman Lord and carve out vast lands!”

Mo Hua said solemnly, “Not for me— for the Divine Lord.”

“Yes, everything is for the Divine Lord!”

Wusha departed to continue the conquests in Mo Hua’s stead.

For a long time thereafter, Wusha treated every word from Mo Hua as an “iron order” and carried it out to the letter.

That included: no killing prisoners, no abusing slave laborers; after a campaign is settled, no looting of the defeated tribe, and no defiling of savage women, and so on.

Wusha did his utmost, and external expansion went smoothly.

Beyond Wusha, there was another man who rose under Mo Hua’s favor.

This man was tall and robust, named Jiao Li, a warrior of the Heijiao Tribe and the illegitimate son of Elder Jiaohu.

Wusha was war-mad and bloodthirsty; Jiao Li was towering and steady.

One attacked and the other defended, conquering tribes and pacifying realms on Mo Hua’s behalf.

That was Mo Hua’s arrangement for external affairs.

Internally, governance of conquered tribes, maintenance of livelihoods, and productive arrangements were likewise coordinated by Mo Hua.

Elders with learning and knowledge of shamanic law from the Wutu Tribe, the Heijiao Tribe, and other tribes handled implementation.

External war was only a means.

Internal governance was the root.

Only with properly run tribes could the livelihood of cultivators improve.

Only then could his foundation in the wilds become solid, and only then could he reach the result he wanted.

This was not a matter of one stroke. Contradictions and difficulties would arise along the way.

Mo Hua kept thinking, solving, and accumulating experience—how to sustain cultivators’ livelihoods from the bottom up under scarce resources and improve the common lot.

Tedious perhaps, but meaningful.

Most savage tribes survived the years of war and famine because of this.

They could eat meat.

Millet was planted around the tribes. Even if they failed to hunt demonic beasts, their livelihoods were guaranteed.

Savage children received a certain degree of foundational instruction.

That instruction was something Mo Hua personally “refined.”

In the wilds, spirit stones were scarce, Dao transmission was rough, and cultivations were closely tied to “demons” and “beasts.”

Often one couldn’t tell orthodox cultivation from demonic cultivation.

Mo Hua gathered the transmissions of all the tribes, picked through them, and cut out anything that was obviously of the demon path and prone to deviation.

On top of each tribe’s original transmission, he fused in some orthodox teachings of the Great Void Sect.

He demanded simplicity, clarity, usefulness, and thrift.

Using the fewest resources, he maximized the number of children who, at the age of enlightenment, could build a basic cultivation foundation.

Moreover, it had to be orthodox cultivation with no risk of qi-deviation.

Many tribes—and their children—thus had their life paths changed and found different possibilities.

Over time, Mo Hua established a unique prestige in the wilds.

In the hearts of Wusha and the other conquerors, Mo Hua the shaman represented the Divine Lord’s majesty and wielded indisputable power of reward and punishment.

Among the common savage cultivators who now had food and clothing, there was heartfelt gratitude and piety toward him.

Many children taught by Mo Hua held this kindly, god-like Shaman Lord in boundless admiration.

…

Time flowed on; two more years passed.

Wusha and Jiao Li conquered five additional second-grade realms.

These realms were brought within Mo Hua’s sphere of influence and, under his subtle guidance, underwent transformations from the root.

Mo Hua himself reaped much.

He had largely confirmed that his ideal of Dao-seeking was workable, and he accumulated rich experience because of it.

To teach the savage children and guide their cultivation, Mo Hua gathered the cultivation transmissions and written classics from the vast majority of tribes across seven entire wild realms under his sway, then sorted, integrated, compiled, and recorded them.

Those inherited texts were no small treasure.

Thanks to them, Mo Hua gained a deeper understanding of the wilds’ history and cultivation system.

He also restored three more sets of barbarian armor.

Beyond the Black Horn Barbarian Armor, there were the Scarlet Fire Barbarian Armor, the Nightstalker Barbarian Armor, and the Green Vine Barbarian Armor.

With improvements by Sword Bone and arrangements by Elder Jiaohu, the three sets were already in production and being equipped by the alliance’s savage cultivators.

Clad in barbarian armor and strict in order, Mo Hua’s forces were starting to look like true “wild soldiers.”

Aside from armor-forging, Mo Hua unexpectedly found some classics on demon-bone divination.

Most were fragmentary, and in these bottom-tier tribes almost no one could use them; their preservation was poor.

Even so, the remnants were precious to Mo Hua.

What he lacked was not understanding of the “Dao of causality,” but specific techniques to enact “causality arts.”

All he needed were written fragments to spark his thinking.

With his formidable divine sense, outrageous computation, and high comprehension, he could restore and complete the arts of divination on his own.

Causality arts were extremely important.

Across these two years, much of Mo Hua’s free time had gone into studying those wilds’ divination remnants.

Leaning on divine sense and computation, he restored, completed, derived, and comprehended on his own.

With the scattered remnants of great-wilderness divination from various tribes, Mo Hua’s attainment in causality accumulated bit by bit, deepening invisibly.

While researching those ancient, obscure, and tattered divination texts, Mo Hua also stumbled on some ancient wild characters.

He didn’t know which tribe had passed them down. They were even more fragmentary, scattered, and vague.

But one term in them made Mo Hua’s heart tremble:

“Grand Shaman…”

Mo Hua’s thoughts rippled.

According to the Second Elder, the second-grade, twenty-four-pattern Twelve Meridian Glutton Spirit Remains Absolute Array originated from the hand of a brilliant great-wilderness Grand Shaman.

But Mo Hua did not know whether the “Grand Shaman” mentioned in the causality remnants was the same one the Second Elder had spoken of who created the Glutton Spirit Remains array.

“If they’re the same, then that Grand Shaman mastered not only arrays but also the Dao of causality?”

Mo Hua considered and found it reasonable.

If one could become a Grand Shaman, one’s abilities had to be great; mastering arrays and fortune-telling both was only natural…

Much like himself.

But were those two “Grand Shamans” really one person? How many Grand Shamans had there been in the history of the wilds?

These were not questions Mo Hua could ask outright.

He was a “shaman”; he could not ask such “low-level” questions.

Unable to quash his curiosity, he found Elder Zhamu and, under the pretext of “testing” him, inquired obliquely.

The result astonished Mo Hua.

Elder Zhamu had never heard of any so-called “Grand Shaman.”

In his telling, the wilds had only “High Shamans,” i.e., high-rank shaman-priests, and never anything called a “Grand Shaman.”

Mo Hua didn’t believe it, so he “tested” others as well, but not a single savage cultivator mentioned the three characters “Grand Shaman.”

It was as if those words had been erased from the history of the wilds.

Not only the person, but even the title no longer existed.

Mo Hua frowned, a nameless strangeness in his heart.

A faint, inexplicable chill seemed to settle over him.

But the clue of the Grand Shaman broke off there.

Mo Hua wanted to dig further but had nowhere to begin.

Meanwhile, the practical problem remained before him: Should he attack a third-grade realm? If so, how?

Even now, with seven second-grade realms unified, his strength and troops greatly expanded and his foundation among the lower-tier savage cultivators very solid—

That did not mean he truly had the power to contest a strong third-grade realm.

The gulf between second and third grade was vast.

All the more when third-grade great tribes had late-stage Golden Core cultivators sitting in town.

But if he did not fight, his power would stall.

All seven surrounding small realms lay conquered; he could not expand outward.

Once Wusha, Jiao Li, and the campaigning savage cultivators stopped, trouble would surely brew.

Their awareness was not so lofty.

Within their loyalty lay selfishness and greed.

They might not dare rebel against the Shaman Lord, but among themselves they would certainly fall into infighting.

Whether he chose to hold or to expand, problems awaited.

Mo Hua fretted over it, thought long and hard, and still found no good solution.

Happening to have a free moment, he went to the back mountains of the Wutu realm to see the big tiger.

…

The big tiger was living very comfortably.

Mo Hua had marked off a swath of mountains where savage cultivators were forbidden to trespass, for the tiger to roam as it pleased.

It ate and drank well, summoned wind and rain in the forests, and swaggered about. Its frame grew even larger; its coat thickened and gleamed—whiter whites, blacker blacks—majestic and beautiful both.

The days it loved most were naturally those when Mo Hua visited and grilled meat for it.

Running his hand over the big tiger’s fur, Mo Hua couldn’t help thinking: should he forge a suit of armor for it and bring it along to campaign against a third-grade realm?

But seeing the happy tiger, he shook his head.

No…

At least not yet.

The big tiger’s realm was at the peak of second-grade. As a powerful demonic beast and a king among beasts, it could truly fight a Golden Core cultivator, but that didn’t mean it could really slaughter one.

Even if it could, it would be gravely wounded, perhaps on the brink of death.

That was not an outcome Mo Hua wished to see.

Besides, if they truly went to subdue a third-grade realm, the enemy would not be just one or two Golden Cores.

The big tiger’s identity was special. If it showed its face, the savage tribes would vie to seize it.

They might end up in a great crisis.

Mo Hua stroked the white fur at the tiger’s neck, sighed, and muttered, “Forget it. You’re too valuable. You can’t go on stage yet.”

The tiger, not understanding, shook its big head, then stretched a fluffy paw to scratch twice at the ground’s grilling array, meaning: hurry up and roast meat; I’m hungry.

Mo Hua felt a little helpless.

“This stupid tiger… it really has become a spirit…”

He could only kindle the grilling array and get back to roasting meat for it.

After feeding the tiger, Mo Hua returned to the tribe and thought for a long time. He decided he still had to find a way to break into a third-grade savage realm.

Hard, seemingly impossible—but it had to be tried.

What’s more, the third-grade great tribes were ancient; their classics on causality would certainly be more numerous, and their ancient records more complete.

There should even be third-grade Savage Gods.

If so, he might devour richer mind-force, learn higher causality arts, and delve into…

More forbidden secrets…

Thanks for reading! If you’re enjoying Mo Hua’s rise from “shaman” to something far scarier, you’re my kind of reader. Your comments keep me going.

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