The Quest for Immortality - Chapter 1167 (Patreon)

Chapter 1167: Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm

After conquering seven mountain realms—and with Elder Zhamu quietly investigating and bringing back lists—over a little more than two years, the savage gods Mo Hua devoured, great and small, numbered well over a hundred.

The savage gods in the surrounding region had been nearly driven “endangered” by this “natural disaster” named Mo Hua.

Only a few who stayed within the bounds of being “gods,” treating their believers kindly and doing their duty with diligence, were lucky enough to survive.

And some others, good at hiding, who—once they sensed the wind shift—scurried into the mountains like mice and kept their heads down, also slipped past this great “tribulation” of Mo Hua’s.

Devouring more than a hundred savage gods had also brought Mo Hua a notable increase in Divine Sense.

By now he had roughly reached the mid-range of twenty-two patterns.

That pace was actually not bad, yet still far from what Mo Hua had hoped for.

In his estimate, after hunting and devouring so many savage gods, his Divine Sense should have been stronger—at least close to twenty-three patterns.

But things had not gone as he expected.

One reason might be that he had eaten too many savage gods and built up resistance.

The gains to his Divine Sense had begun to taper off.

Second, it might be that the grade of the gods he ate was simply too low.

A twenty-two-pattern Dao-Transformed, Golden Core–level Divine Sense trying to “supplement” itself by eating second-grade savage gods was frankly shabby.

To be honest, getting to where he was now already counted as an unexpected delight.

If he had eaten ordinary second-grade abominations instead, the growth would have been even more negligible.

And cultivating and increasing Divine Sense is inherently extremely difficult.

An ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator finds it grindingly hard to strengthen even Foundation Establishment–level Divine Sense.

Let alone Mo Hua, who was tempering Golden Core Divine Sense while still in Foundation Establishment and still wanted that Golden Core–level Divine Sense to climb another step—this was like reaching for the heavens.

“No matter how I look at it, a third-grade mountain realm is a place I must go…”

Mo Hua exhaled softly and lifted his gaze to the vast, dim, desolate sky, faintly laced with crimson flowing fire. A weight pressed on his chest.

For these two-plus years he had been trapped in this wilderness of towering ranges and perilous ground, everything closed off in every direction. Beyond lay expanses of Gobi with no sense of direction; he couldn’t get out even if he wanted to.

He had no way to learn anything of the outside world.

How went the war between the Dao Court and the Great Wilderness?

How far had the Dao Court’s armies advanced? How brutal had their clashes with the Wilderness grown?

Had Yang Jishan and Yang Jiyong managed to dodge the deadly calamity and survive? Or had they died in the mutiny at Great Wilderness Gate that night? And what of the end of Great Wilderness Gate…

After Great Wilderness Gate’s betrayal, how did the Dao Court respond?

Would the Dao Court deem Great Wilderness Gate “rebels,” then suppress them—and even exterminate them to the last?

What about Da Hu? Wouldn’t he, in Great Wilderness Gate, be implicated as well?

Also, why had Da Hu become the way he was now—silent and hard-edged? What had he experienced at Great Wilderness Gate? And Shuang Hu and San Hu? Where had they gone? Mo Hua knew none of it, and a haze gradually settled over his heart.

He focused again on the deep crimson sky, where fire streamed like blood. His brows drew together.

The image in the heavens portended the stirring of fate.

Such a sign contained the secrets of heaven; at his current realm and comprehension, he naturally could not pierce it.

Yet when he looked at that sky, a vague urgency coiled in his chest, a chill that would not leave.

It felt as if, beneath the surface of war in the Wilderness, something else… was being concealed…

“Has someone already reached a hand… into the Great Wilderness long ago?”

Mo Hua’s pupils deepened.

…

Since the decision was made, do it early and set things in place ahead of time.

The situation was unclear. No one knew when calamity and upheaval might suddenly descend.

Before that, he had to study the heavenly mechanism, strive to form his core, dissolve calamity through karma, and protect himself with the Golden Core.

A grave weight sat in Mo Hua’s heart, making him all the more unwilling to delay. He feared that if he were late, change would come.

The next day, he summoned the barbarian-commanders Wusha and Jiaoli, the internal-affairs elders Zhamu and Jiaohu, and the many chieftains and elders of the tribes under his banner, then said: “Last night I watched the heavens. The Divine Lord sent down an inspiration, and I understood the road I must walk. I need to go out to spread the Divine Lord’s blessing—at least a month, at most half a year.”

“During this period, all affairs of the allied tribes will be in your hands. You must do your utmost and remain loyal to the Divine Lord.”

“Drilling troops, forging armor, hunting demons, tending spirit-plants, preaching and teaching… none may be neglected.”

“If any harbor a second heart, they will suffer the Divine Lord’s heavenly wrath.”

The crowd was surprised, but still cupped their hands respectfully and said:

“We obey the shaman-lord’s command. May the Divine Lord be undying.”

Mo Hua also said, “May the Divine Lord be undying.”

After that, Mo Hua assigned the concrete tasks.

Elder Jiaohu was given complete charge of armor forging, with Jiaoli and Wusha set to check and balance each other to prevent a barbarian-cultivator revolt.

Preaching and teaching were temporarily entrusted to Elder Zhamu.

At the same time, little Zhatu had followed Mo Hua for a long while and had high comprehension; he could serve as a temporary “substitute teacher.”

When the arrangements were done, that very night Mo Hua slipped away and set out alone for a nearby third-grade mountain realm.

This time, Mo Hua would likely remain in the third-grade mountain realm for a while.

Only by investigating in person, observing more, and learning the lay of the land could he know himself and the enemy and be invincible.

Concealing his presence, Mo Hua walked for several days, left the Black Horn Mountain Realm, then traveled alone across treacherous ranges. After some time, he finally reached the third-grade mountain realm to the southwest.

He had come here once before, but only managed a hurried glance, a rough sense of things, without deep investigation.

Because earlier, he hadn’t truly thought about attacking this third-grade mountain realm.

But times had changed. The surrounding second-grade mountain realms were subdued; what he needed to do had, in essence, been done.

What remained was to let time slowly consolidate his territory, to let his power settle, to set the foundation firm step by step, to let good seedlings grow at their own pace…

All of that time was necessary.

Mo Hua also had to find a way to keep moving forward, to keep expanding outward.

A third-grade mountain realm was a barrier he had to cross.

Therefore his on-site survey, this time, was much more serious.

For the next month or so, he moved under concealment through the third-grade mountain realm, observing, recording, analyzing, thinking, and constantly comparing. He formed a relatively deep understanding of the general situation here.

But the more he learned, the colder his heart grew.

This mountain realm was the only third-grade realm nearby, and its strength was overwhelming.

That he had known.

But now, after probing deep, he discovered that whether in the number of Golden Core experts—up to and including late-stage ones—the power of its tribes, or the strength of its barbarian cultivators, it all exceeded his earlier rough estimate by a wide margin.

Their tribal system was strict, their barbarian armor excellent, their troops robust; they even raised demonic beasts…

Because they were barbarians, cloaked in a “savage” veneer, Mo Hua had subconsciously looked down on them before, thinking them nothing special.

Yet after two years in which he subdued five mountain realms and more than a hundred small tribes, after he had studied their inheritances, classics, and script, he gained a deeper understanding of the barbarians’ foundations. The “filter” of savagery had fallen from his eyes.

Looking again now, he suddenly realized:

He had indeed “underestimated” this one and only third-grade mountain realm around Wutu and Black Horn.

It wasn’t merely a strong third-grade realm.

It was very nearly a fully bequeathed, at-the-peak third-grade state.

Within it, the number of late-stage Golden Core barbarian cultivators was almost absurd.

The mid- and upper-tier foundation was extremely deep—nearly the “skeleton” of a fourth-grade mountain realm.

In a sense, toss a few Deification experts into the mix, and it could already be called “fourth-grade.”

An extremely flourishing third-grade mountain realm, compared with the small realms of Wutu and Black Horn around it, was an absolute cliff of crushing strength—the difference of a whole dimension.

That was very irregular.

It ran counter to how the prefectures of the Nine Provinces were distributed.

Mo Hua had not expected the Great Wilderness to have this sort of geographical layout.

In the Nine Provinces, such a thing was almost impossible.

There, adjoining prefectures transitioned in a balanced, smooth way.

Take Qianxue Prefecture: around it were fourth-grade and third-grade, and only out toward the fringes would you find some small second-grade areas, and even then the gap was not so extreme.

You wouldn’t see, among a school of minnows, a “leviathan” suddenly appear.

The only exception was a “siphoning” kind of layout.

Some prefectures that were not originally so strong had forcibly siphoned the surrounding weaker prefectures into “minnows.”

Thus they themselves became leviathans, and the surrounding prefectures became “minnows.”

Only then would you see such extreme disparity.

But that was definitely not the case here in the Wilderness.

This “peak third-grade” mountain realm had almost no overlap with Wutu and Black Horn nearby, and there was no “siphon” phenomenon.

Wutu and Black Horn had nothing in the way of resources for a peak third-grade realm to siphon.

That, in itself, was very strange…

Mo Hua’s expression grew somber.

Things were drifting from his original plan.

This mountain realm was far from simple.

He lowered his profile even more, worked his Concealment Techniques with extra care, worried that some Golden Core expert might catch his trail.

He investigated further, including secretly observing the totems of several tribes and the characters carved in prominent places, and eavesdropping on barbarian cultivators’ conversations.

Only then did Mo Hua learn that this mountain realm really was no ordinary third-grade realm.

Most of the tribes within it traced back to a common ancestor, shared the same inheritance thread, and used totems of a similar style.

All those totems related to fire and birds.

Layered together, deduplicated, and pieced as one, the rough outline became a crimson divine bird.

Mo Hua could not help but think of one of the Four Symbols divine beasts of the Wilderness: “The Vermilion Bird.”

Many tribal names within the mountain realm also tied to “Vermilion Bird.”

“Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm?”

Mo Hua was quite shocked.

But on reflection, he found many problems here.

The Vermilion Bird, as a Four Symbols divine beast, should hold high status. Why was it the totem of a third-grade mountain realm?

Or was this merely one branch among the Wilderness tribes that worshiped the Vermilion Bird? The Azure Dragon was the symbol of the Wilderness royal clan.

Then what of the Vermilion Bird? What place did it hold among the tribes of the Wilderness? Was “Vermilion Bird” merely a symbol—or did this mountain realm… truly possess a Vermilion Bird divine beast?

…

Matters touching the origin of the Wilderness’s Vermilion Bird divine beast were too mysterious. Mo Hua could not quickly find the thread.

Instead, another question proved more pressing:

This mountain realm was simply impossible to fight…

Worship of the Vermilion Bird, peak third-grade, a “pseudo-fourth-grade” realm, a dozen-odd tribes, dozens of late-stage Golden Core experts, and a host of Golden Core elders besides…

Mo Hua’s scalp tingled.

Fight what, exactly?

Third-grade to third-grade still covers a vast spread.

A threshold-level third-grade mountain realm and a peak-level “Vermilion Bird” realm like this were worlds apart.

“If I can’t fight… what should I do?”

Mo Hua frowned and pondered for a long time.

With the gap in hard power so large, defeat was inevitable.

But without fighting, the situation froze up again.

The Wilderness was closed off; Gobi on every side; there was no getting out.

Over at Wutu and Black Horn, everything that could be fought had been fought.

He couldn’t just sit on those second-grade mountain realms, idle away ten or twenty years, could he?

By then the cabbage would be cold.

He thought through the overall situation of the Wilderness, did a divination for himself, and reviewed what he had done since coming here—then jolted with a sudden realization:

No… why must it be “fight,” exactly?

His identity in the Wilderness was not that of a “conqueror” or a “destroyer,” but a “shaman.”

Or rather, he should be a “teacher.”

A teacher who spreads the Dao and imparts learning, guiding the lost.

Since he was a “teacher,” why bother with killing?

What a teacher should do is cultivate “talent.”

Talent is the most precious thing.

Students with enough talent can accomplish what he wants but cannot do himself, thereby changing the situation in the Wilderness.

“Talent…”

Mo Hua pondered.

Little Zhatu and the others were “students” he had trained; in time, they would likely be able to stand on their own.

But they were still too young. In cultivation realm, in temperament and actions, in status and standing, they were lacking across the board.

For now they were still studying the Dao and could not play a role.

The future was promising—but the present was not.

In other words, if he wanted to develop within the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm, what he needed now was a “talent” who could be put to use and wield influence.

This person could not be too young, and could not be low in status.

They had to have a sincere heart and grand ambition…

Yet such a figure is rare as phoenix feathers even in the Nine Provinces.

Let alone here in the Wilderness.

“Still, this is a peak third-grade realm that worships the Vermilion Bird, with a long, deep heritage…”

“In so large a place, with so many barbarian cultivators and such an ancient history, producing a few talents would not be too much to ask…”

Mo Hua began moving alone under concealment—or else disguised and blended in—making open and secret inquiries, hoping to find a “disciple” that satisfied him within the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm.

But after searching for a long time, he failed.

Just as he expected, such “talents” were rarity itself.

Geniuses of the Wilderness either had gifts but lacked character…

Or had some character but weren’t diligent enough.

Those of noble birth largely slighted those below and were overly arrogant.

Search as he might, none felt right.

With no other choice, Mo Hua resorted to the Great Wilderness demon-bone divination. He lit a fire and burned bone, quietly asking after fate and deducing karma:

“Where is the ‘disciple’ I seek…”

Cracks covered the demon bone, the fissures glowing fire-red. Pieced together, those cracks formed two ancient characters of the Wilderness:

“Danque…”

Then the omen dispersed.

Mo Hua erased the traces of divination, his gaze moving as he mused:

“Danque… does it mean the Danque tribe?”

The Danque tribe was one of the top powers in this third-grade realm. Its name resembled “Vermilion Bird,” hinting at a deep source.

“Does the omen mean that my ‘disciple’ is in the Danque tribe?”

After a moment’s thought, Mo Hua set off for the Danque tribe.

Danque was a great tribe, with several late-stage Golden Core experts within, and many elders in the early and middle stages as well.

It occupied a great stretch of mountains.

A basin among the peaks served as the tribe’s base camp.

Beyond the basin, in forests and at the mountain’s feet, stood many small sub-tribes of Danque—distant-blood outer tribes and affinal clans—stationed throughout.

There were even many barbarian slaves.

Such was the hallmark of a major tribe: the greater the tribe, the more barbarian slaves it had taken through war.

The more slaves they kept, the more abundant the tribe’s supplies, and the stronger it became.

Here in the Wilderness, classes were quite distinct—even rigid.

Mo Hua “disguised” himself a bit: he smeared bronzed ink across his body, painted on some purely decorative Four Symbols beast-patterns, then donned barbarian furs. With a mouthful of barbarian accent, he quickly blended into Danque.

He could not worm his way into the core settlement of the Danque tribe.

But in the periphery—among small tribes, outer tribes, and affinal clans—he came and went easily, moving like a fish in water.

If nothing else, the complex, profound “barbarian patterns” he wore—half for show—were enough to awe groups of barbarian cultivators.

All the more so since his bearing and demeanor were exceptional.

When some asked about his origins, a single cool glance from Mo Hua left them feeling ashamed, unwilling to pry further.

At just the right moments he displayed a bit of “array” skill and was treated as a master.

Some even said, “This honored one is so extraordinary at such a young age—he will surely enter the Royal Court and become a ‘shaman-lord’ one day.”

In this way, it wasn’t long before Mo Hua became an honored “guest” among the Danque sub-tribes.

He searched among these small settlements for the “disciple” he wanted.

But after more than a month, he still had nothing.

A needle in a haystack remains a needle in a haystack. Even with a karmic hint, it would not come so easily.

“Have I been looking in the wrong place? Or is my ‘disciple’ not among these small or outer tribes?”

Mo Hua was puzzled.

“Who will the disciple I seek be?”

A few days later, while he chatted idly—teaching several Danque barbarian cultivators how to paint crude beast-patterns on their armor—he also kept his ears up and his Divine Sense open, gathering all sorts of news.

Just then Mo Hua heard a name that drew his full attention: “Danzhu.”

The young lord of the Danque tribe.

A prodigy with astonishing gifts—born with Dao Heart, Foundation Establishment at ten, Golden Core at twenty.

Thanks for reading—this arc’s heating up, and Mo Hua’s playing teacher instead of conqueror has me grinning. If you’re enjoying the ride, my Patreon could really use your support—it keeps me translating and unlocks advance chapters for you. And if you have a moment, dropping a rating or review on NovelUpdates helps more readers discover this story. You’re the best!

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