Chapter 1160: Barbarian God

Mo Hua licked his lips, suddenly intrigued. After being hungry for so long, he finally smelled something good. Without a sound, he continued to follow the grandfather and grandson.

Unaware they were being followed, the barbarian grandfather and grandson walked on in silence. Along the way, the elder intermittently admonished the child: "When we arrive, you must be respectful. This is your good fortune... you will bring blessings to the tribe, and your father would be proud of you if he knew..."

The child nodded, bewildered. After a while, he clutched his shrunken stomach and said, "Grandpa, I'm hungry."

The barbarian elder took out some coarse dry food. It was made from some cheap grain, blackish, greyish, dry, and hard. The child took the food and slowly chewed on it.

The barbarian elder watched with a pained heart, then carefully took a piece of dried meat from his worn-out storage pouch and handed it to the child.

The child's eyes lit up at the sight of the jerky, but then he became a little uneasy. "Grandpa, I'm... I'm full, I don't need it..."

The barbarian elder stroked his head, his voice raspy. "It's alright. Eat more today... eat well."

The child was young and didn't understand the full implications, but despite his restraint, his rumbling stomach couldn't resist the allure of the dried meat. He took it and carefully chewed, savoring it slowly, as he rarely got to eat such a treat more than a few times a year.

After eating half, he handed the remaining jerky to the elder. "Grandpa, I'm full."

The barbarian elder shook his head. "It's alright, you eat it all. It's all for you."

The child looked a little disbelieving. "Really?"

The elder nodded with a smile, the wrinkles on his face deepening and looking worn.

The child finally relaxed, happily chewing the rest of the meat, a simple, pitiable smile on his face.

The barbarian elder watched this scene, his gaze complex, deep pain hidden in his eyes.

Mo Hua watched all this, his expression subtly darkening.

After finishing the jerky, the barbarian elder continued up the mountain with the child.

The mountains of the Great Wilderness, though sparsely covered with low shrubs, were mostly bare and reddish. The grandfather and grandson followed the steep mountain path deep into the desolate hills.

Deep in the mountains was a cave, its entrance dark and foreboding, flanked by two strange stone pillars. At the cave entrance, four barbarian cultivators stood guard.

Upon seeing the elder, the four barbarian cultivators bowed in their clan's customary greeting, respectfully saying, "Elder."

The barbarian elder nodded slightly and asked, "Is everything ready?"

One of the barbarian cultivators replied, "Yes, Elder. The demon blood, offerings, and altar are all prepared."

The barbarian elder nodded and waved his hand. "You may all return."

The four barbarian cultivators hesitated, glancing at the child with expressions of reluctance. "Elder, perhaps..."

The barbarian elder's expression was stubborn. "There's no other choice."

The barbarian cultivators sighed. "Yes, Great Elder."

After the four retreated, they descended the mountain.

Only the barbarian elder and the ten-year-old child remained at the cave entrance.

The elder asked the child, "Have you remembered what I told you?"

The child nodded. "I will serve Lord Barbarian God well, with utmost respect and devotion."

The barbarian elder's gaze was profound. "Good, then come with me."

The grandfather and grandson stepped past the stone pillars and entered the cave.

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then followed them inside. His spiritual sense far surpassed the elder's, making it impossible for the elder to detect him, even when hidden directly behind him. Mo Hua virtually walked alongside the elder as they entered the cave together.

The view was dark for a moment. When Mo Hua looked up to observe the cave's interior, he was surprised. The cave was too rudimentary. There were none of the stone halls, temples, or shrines he had anticipated. In fact, it could barely be called a "cave" at all; it was more like a shallow indentation in the mountain wall, no more than five or six steps deep. Inside, there was only a stone altar with some monster skulls arranged on it and a jar of beast blood at its corner. Nothing else. There was no idol, nor anything else for worship.

And at the end of the cave was a stone wall. It was a true stone wall; a spiritual sense passing through it perceived nothing but rock.

Mo Hua's eyes flickered. Earlier, hearing the child speak of "Barbarian God," he had imagined some imposing entity. He expected at least a temple or an idol, but upon entering the cave, he found nothing. Moreover, the divine aura was extremely faint, almost nonexistent. Mo Hua couldn't sense it at all.

"Hidden quite well..." Mo Hua mused for a moment, then looked at the barbarian elder with a profound gaze.

The barbarian elder suddenly felt a chill in his heart, as if being spied upon by some presence, but after sensing around, he detected nothing.

The barbarian elder pondered for a moment, concluding there was only one explanation. He knelt on the ground and kowtowed towards the empty stone wall behind the altar, saying, "Lord Barbarian God, I am prepared; I dare not delay your ritual." After speaking, he prostrated himself three times.

The child beside him also followed his grandfather, kneeling and knocking his head three times with a thud.

After that, the barbarian elder, without delay, reached into the adjacent blood jar, dipped his finger into the reddish-black blood, and drew an ancient, crimson totem beneath the altar. The totem's patterns resembled the demon markings of the Four Symbols, and its design looked like a demon with a sharp beak and claws.

After drawing the totem, the barbarian elder lit a candle on the altar. The candle, made from unknown beast fat, burned with a pale green flame and emitted a pungent odor.

Once the candle was lit, the barbarian elder pulled his grandson to kneel within the crimson totem before the altar. The elder prayed devoutly. The child knelt respectfully.

The eerie green candle continued to burn. The candle's smoke intensified. After an unknown period, the blood totem on the ground began to twist, and the crimson demon within it seemed to come alive. Both the barbarian elder and the child had inhaled too much candle smoke, their minds growing hazy, and in a state between wakefulness and sleep, they even began to hallucinate.

It was as if a deep voice was calling to them—an ancient, authoritative voice that brooked no defiance. Unbeknownst to them, their souls were drawn away from their bodies. When they opened their eyes again, the cave before them was no longer the same. The stone wall had vanished, replaced by a door. It had bronze panels, an iron lock, and interlocking fangs where its parts met, appearing both sinister and majestic.

The child looked a little frightened. However, the barbarian elder, who seemed to have been there before, stroked his grandson's forehead and said in a hoarse voice, "Don't be afraid. Come with me to audience with Lord Barbarian God."

The child timidly nodded.

The barbarian elder then kowtowed towards the bronze door, devoutly murmuring, "Lord Barbarian God, forgive me. Your follower has come for an audience." After speaking, the elder maintained his bowing posture, awaiting a response from the unseen, as if his plea for an audience had been accepted. The iron chains on the door then opened.

Only then did the elder rise, respectfully push open the bronze door, look back at his grandson, and sigh, "Let's go."

The child nodded.

The barbarian elder then took his grandson's hand and stepped through the bronze door.

Beyond the bronze door was a flagstone passage. This passage did not exist in the physical world; it was purely illusory.

The barbarian elder, holding his grandson's hand, walked anxiously along the passage. After an unknown length of time, they finally entered a great hall.

The hall was entirely constructed from bluestone. An altar stood in the center, and high above, a strangely shaped stone idol was enshrined.

The barbarian elder dared not look up at the idol. He simply said to his grandson in a trembling voice, "You... lie down on the table."

"Okay," the child said, and obediently lay down on the altar table.

The barbarian elder carefully used rope to bind his grandson's hands and feet. His grandson did not resist.

After he was bound, the child asked, "Grandpa, am I going to die?"

The barbarian elder trembled, his eyes reddening slightly, but he still managed to say in a hoarse voice, "You're so young... why... why would you say that?"

The child's gaze was forlorn. "Ada, Ali, Zhen'er, and Keda... they all went to serve Lord Barbarian God, but none of them ever came back. Will I also..."

The barbarian elder suppressed his pain and asked, "Don't... don't you want to go and serve Lord Barbarian God?"

The child, however, shook his head. "I'll go serve Lord Barbarian God." His voice was low. "There's no one left to play with me anymore, and I'm hungry every day. I don't know where my father went, or if he'll ever come back. There's not much point in me living, it's just..." The child looked at the barbarian elder. "If I go, Grandpa, you'll be all alone. Grandpa, you must take good care of yourself."

Tears welled in the elder's cloudy eyes. He nodded gently and said in a soft voice, "Don't worry. Lord Barbarian God will bless us. Lord Barbarian God will also take good care of you. Just go to sleep, and when you wake up, everything will be over."

"Mmm..." the child murmured softly from the altar table. Then, feeling an inexplicable depletion in his spirit, he slowly closed his eyes.

The barbarian elder looked at his only grandson, heartbroken, yet he gritted his teeth, knelt on the ground, and silently prayed: "Your humble follower beseeches you, Lord Barbarian God, to grant my tribe favorable winds and rain. We ask, Lord Barbarian God, that my people have food to fill their bellies. Shelter my people with clothing to ward off the cold. Protect my people from calamities. Safeguard my tribe, so that our warriors who went to war may return safely..."

After completing his devout prayer, the barbarian elder finally gritted his teeth and said, "I respectfully invite... Lord Barbarian God, to partake... of my tribe's offering."

Having spoken, the barbarian elder heavily prostrated his head on the ground, remaining motionless like a devout statue.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of stone cracking echoed in the dead silent stone hall. Stone chips fell, and the idol in the center of the hall slowly began to move. Its stone and clay exterior peeled away, revealing a tall, robust body with a sharp beak and fierce claws, adorned in golden divine robes, its form wreathed in bluish-red hues. This was the true form of the "Barbarian God" worshipped by the elder's tribe.

The Barbarian God revealed its true form. The elder's heart grew heavier, and he dared not breathe.

The bluish-black Barbarian God strode to the child before the altar. The scent of the fresh offering made saliva drip from its mouth, but it wasn't in a hurry to "feed." Instead, it turned its head to the barbarian elder, its voice cold and sharp: "Your faith is no longer devout."

The barbarian elder slowly rose to his feet. In his left hand, he clutched a banner; in his right, he held a sacrificial knife. His cloudy eyes revealed both fear of the deity and a sharp intent to kill.

The Barbarian God sneered, "I was wondering why I felt an inexplicable unease today. So it was you, this lowly old servant, who harbored ill intent and dared to offend a god?"

The elder's expression was solemn, and he involuntarily tightened his grip on the sacrificial knife.

The Barbarian God's sharp face held a look of derision. "What, I consumed other children and you didn't rebel. But now that I'm about to consume your grandson, you suddenly think of betraying me?"

The elder's face showed both shame and anger, finally giving way to self-mockery. "There's no other way out. As an elder of the tribe, it makes no difference who the offering is this time; I can only go all out against a greedy Barbarian God like you. If I die, it's merely the extinction of my clan. If I don't resist and let you continue to devour us, with no new children born into the tribe, extinction is inevitable anyway. And you're right... this is my last grandson, my only bloodline. His father went to war with the barbarian soldiers... A few days ago, I dreamt of his father on the battlefield, covered in blood, his head gone. I knew then that my son was likely dead."

The elder's face suddenly seemed to age considerably, displaying both despondency and determination. He slowly raised his hand, pointing the sacrificial knife at the Barbarian God. "Therefore, all this must end with my old life."

The Barbarian God's expression was grim. "To dare raise a knife against a deity, you must have resolved to die. Very well, then I shall first devour you, old servant, and then eat your grandson, so your family may be reunited."

The Barbarian God's face suddenly contorted into a malevolent grin. With a casual wave of its hand, it tore a large, bluish-black claw mark in the air, reaching for the elder.

The elder waved his left hand, and several hyena demon souls flew from the banner, clashing with the Barbarian God's killing move. A ripple of power spread, filling the air with spiritual energy.

The Barbarian God was somewhat surprised. "You've learned shamanistic magic?"

The barbarian elder, his face cold, continued to wave the banner. This banner seemed to be a strange, wicked artifact of the divine path; each wave devoured the elder's spiritual sense, using a portion of his spiritual energy as an incantation to summon demon souls for battle. The demon souls he summoned were not weak. Against ordinary cultivators, they would be powerful enough to devour the opponent's spiritual sense.

Unfortunately, he was facing the Barbarian God, who fed on human souls. Although these demon souls could fight the Barbarian God, they were clearly no match. After a few rounds of struggle, they would be suppressed and devoured by the Barbarian God, nourishing its own power.

The barbarian elder's expression was grave. His only way to defeat the Barbarian God was to use every means at his disposal and achieve a swift victory. Human spiritual sense could not compare to that of the Barbarian God; if the battle dragged on, his spiritual sense would undoubtedly deplete first, leading to his death. Once he died, his tribe would surely perish. Survival in the Great Wilderness was already difficult; without him, a Foundation Establishment elder, even a Rank 2 monster could wipe out their small tribe. Not to mention, he had now completely offended the Barbarian God. Unless he could kill or severely wound the Barbarian God, their tribe would certainly be utterly destroyed by its wrath. There was only one path: to fight to the death. There was no other choice.

Disregarding the drain on his spirit, the barbarian elder began to wave the banner, employing shamanistic magic to summon more powerful demon souls. As the magic operated, the elder's face grew even paler. Yet, his shamanic banner, drawing upon his spiritual sense, summoned a Rank 2 yellow evil wolf.

The yellow evil wolf, commanded by the elder, immediately lunged and engaged the Barbarian God in battle. But the elder's moves weren't finished; he plunged the sacrificial knife into his own arm. Blood patterns appeared on the knife, and then a mysterious power flowed back into the barbarian elder. His hunched figure gradually straightened and grew taller. His limbs became thicker, his muscles bulged, and he seemed to return to his youthful self, transforming into a barbarian warrior.

The moment the sacrificial knife had fully drawn power from his life force, the elder immediately charged, joining the battle against the Barbarian God.

A man, a wolf, and a Barbarian God fought fiercely for a long time. This kind of spiritual battle was extremely perilous.

Just as the Barbarian God's aura began to weaken, and a glimmer of hope that he could defeat the Barbarian God arose in the elder's heart, a bluish-black light flashed, and the Barbarian God's figure suddenly vanished.

The elder froze, then a strong premonition of danger surged within him. He was about to turn around, but it was already too late. A sharp claw had already pierced his shoulder.

The evil wolf at his side attacked the Barbarian God, but the Barbarian God seized it by the throat, twisted its neck, and then opened its gaping maw to swallow it alive.

The elder's face fell in despair. He had learned some shamanistic rituals and knew the Barbarian God was powerful, but only in actual combat did he truly comprehend how terrifying it was. Such an entity was simply beyond human resistance.

The Barbarian God looked at the elder and scoffed, "It's rare for me to have time to play with you, and you actually took it seriously. Why would I pay attention to such pathetic shamanistic magic?"

The elder gave a bitter, desolate smile.

The Barbarian God slowly approached the elder, seemingly intending to finish him off. Just then, the bitter smile vanished from the elder's face, replaced by a look of cold indifference. "I know. That's why I never intended to win in the first place..."

The Barbarian God's expression changed. The elder instantly plunged the sacrificial knife forcefully into his heart's core. The knife's power surged into his heart's core, amplifying his spiritual body, causing crimson threads to spread across his entire form. This was a forbidden shamanistic technique, a "detonation" method that used one's own spiritual sense as a medium.

From the very beginning, the elder had resolved to die, thus his plan was to perish together with his opponent.

Yet, before he could detonate himself, a bluish-red arm abruptly pierced his heart's core, brutally tearing out his sacrificial knife along with his spiritual sense and flesh. The elder's face twisted in shock, and he still tried to exert force. But in that same instant, his right arm was severed. The spiritual pain assailed him, and the elder gritted his teeth, enduring the agony to see his right arm already devoured by the Barbarian God. His sacrificial knife, meanwhile, was being toyed with in the Barbarian God's hand.

At the same time, the bluish-faced, fanged Barbarian God wore a look of mockery. "I told you, I am a god. How could I not know your petty schemes? A mere mortal attempting to slay a god, what a joke! I was merely toying with you."

The barbarian elder's expression turned ashen. Indeed, if the Barbarian God wasn't a "god," how could his tribe have worshipped it for hundreds of years? A Barbarian God worshipped for centuries—how could he, a mere barbarian cultivator, remove it with such meager shamanistic magic? "This is... a 'god'..."

The barbarian elder's chest felt empty, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the unyielding Barbarian God with despair in his eyes. But just then, a brilliant golden light suddenly emerged from the tall Barbarian God's chest. Then, a small, golden fist directly pierced its back, tearing through its chest, the residual golden light obliterating a large section of its bluish-black flesh. A childish yet lazy, and somewhat disappointed voice said, "I really thought you were some god. Turns out you're just a little mountain ghost, putting on a show."

The Barbarian God's face registered shock. The elder's pupils widened.

The next instant, the golden light exploded. The powerful Barbarian God, without any resistance, was instantly torn apart by a pair of small hands, then incinerated and refined by flames, and finally absorbed into a mouth.