Chapter 1164: Fire

He was just a hair's breadth away from reaching 22 patterns of divine sense, a truly remarkable progress that even somewhat exceeded his expectations.

He had initially assumed these barbarian gods were "minor deities," not even true gods in the strict sense. They lacked divine marrow, and their true forms were merely mountain spirits, ghouls, or demons of relatively low rank. The strongest among them, the barbarian god of the Wulu tribe, was only at the peak of the second rank, not quite reaching the third.

Surprisingly, despite their low cultivation, these barbarian gods proved to be quite substantial in terms of their spiritual essence. Mo Hua only understood why after a period of contemplation.

Although their true forms were merely mountain spirits and monsters, these barbarian gods had, after all, touched upon a trace of divine status. They had received incense and worship from their followers, thus possessing a rudimentary form of divinity. This made their quality far superior to that of ordinary evil entities, and consuming them had a powerful nourishing effect on one's divine sense.

With their low cultivation, they were easy to hunt, yet highly nourishing upon consumption. These "barbarian gods" of the Great Wilderness were undoubtedly rare delicacies for cultivating divine sense.

Mo Hua felt that the Great Wilderness was an excellent place, a land of fortune for him. Though he occasionally harbored a feeling that the "waters were shallow, and thus full of turtles," or that "any common chicken or dog could claim divinity" here.

However, upon reflection, Mo Hua realized that such a comparison was unfair. His own situation was exceptional. How could these locally nurtured "barbarian gods" be compared to him—a "demigod" who had achieved enlightenment through divine sense, integrated divine will with the Dao, cultivated the God-Slaying Sword, practiced the Demonic Dao, mastered both profound and cunning heavenly calculations, consumed divine marrow, undergone the Desolate Heaven Blood Sacrifice, devoured numerous demons, and even captured the true fetus of an evil god alive?

In terms of divine sense foundation, divine will cultivation, combat experience, and the depth of his heritage, they were simply not on the same level. Were it not for him, any other cultivator, even a Golden Core expert, venturing into the heart of the Three Thousand Great Wilderness and facing the ubiquitous, invisible, and insidious "barbarian gods," would likely unknowingly fall victim to their ways and be sacrificed on their altars.

"It's not that the barbarian gods of the Great Wilderness are too weak," he mused, "it's that I am too strong. Don't blame them." In his heart, Mo Hua silently restored a bit of dignity for these barbarian gods.

Knowing he was just a hair's breadth away from 22 patterns, Mo Hua's motivation intensified. He subsequently accelerated the progress of his "barbarian god hunting" plan.

All of this was conducted in secret. Many tribes remained completely oblivious that the "gods" they revered had already been slaughtered and consumed by Mo Hua.

However, as he continued his hunt, the available barbarian gods became fewer and farther between. Most of the tribal barbarian god names on Elder Zamu's list had already been crossed out.

After all, no matter how numerous the barbarian gods in the Great Wilderness, they couldn't withstand Mo Hua, this "calamity star," harvesting them like leeks. Furthermore, Elder Zamu was merely an elder of a small tribe; he rarely ventured far, so his knowledge of barbarian gods was limited to the vicinity of Wutu Mountain, and their number was quite finite.

Mo Hua had already killed and consumed all the barbarian gods that were killable, deserving of death, or easy to dispatch. There remained a few who were genuinely not bad; they diligently fulfilled their duties as barbarian gods, conscientiously protecting their tribes and ensuring favorable weather. Mo Hua felt uncomfortable consuming such benevolent deities, so he merely glanced at them and moved on.

Additionally, there were some barbarian gods who were neither good nor bad, but were extremely astute, alert, and deeply hidden, making them difficult to kill. Mo Hua spent a long time observing these tribes, yet he couldn't find any trace of these elusive deities.

Later, he overheard tribal elders talking and learned that these barbarian gods had sent dreams to them, instructing them absolutely not to offer sacrifices. They were not even to display offerings or allow anyone to worship; they should simply pretend their tribe had no barbarian gods. Only by doing so, the gods had warned, could they avert unseen disasters and escape unknown calamities.

Mo Hua had no effective way to deal with such "startled birds" and "cowering turtle" barbarian gods. His time was precious; he couldn't abandon an entire forest for the sake of one or two lone prospects, so he let them be.

Heaven holds the virtue of cherishing life. Any barbarian god he managed to encounter was likely already destined for demise, having chosen a path leading to their end. Those he couldn't find, however, signified that their fate was not yet exhausted, and he could not forcibly sever their karmic ties.

In a sense, this approach also aligned with the Heavenly Dao and followed karmic principles. Mo Hua's grasp of heavenly secrets and karma grew increasingly profound.

However, with fewer barbarian gods available for nourishment, his divine sense advancement inevitably slowed. Mo Hua had no choice but to consider broadening his scope, venturing beyond Wutu Mountain to hunt barbarian gods in other regions.

Such an endeavor, however, would require thorough preparation. According to Elder Zamu, there were many "large tribes" beyond Wutu Mountain, home to numerous Golden Core cultivators. It was even rumored that legendary "Ascension" realm princes and Dragon Lords, figures revered above ten thousand, resided there. These were all beings Mo Hua, in his current state, could not afford to provoke.

In the Three Thousand Mountains of the Great Wilderness, his network of connections was even more limited than in Desert City, where at least the Yang family of the Daoist Soldiers Department provided some leverage. But in the heart of the Great Wilderness, he was truly alone, with no background or support whatsoever. Should any mishap occur, there would be no one to back him up.

Furthermore, he had no established base of support. In Tongxian City, for instance, although there weren't many high-level cultivators, Mo Hua enjoyed considerable prestige, excellent rapport, and widespread popularity among the general populace of cultivators. The Daoist Court Department of Tongxian City, smaller families, minor sects, rogue cultivators, demon hunters, artifact refiners, formation masters, and many others were all united with him. Whatever he wished to accomplish, he had ample people willing to assist him.

Here in the Great Wilderness, however, he truly had nothing but his "reliant" big tiger. Therefore, he needed to proceed with even greater caution in all his endeavors. At the very least, he had to thoroughly assess the situation and understand the general state of barbarian gods beyond Wutu Mountain before making a move. Ideally, he would also acquire another "Elder Zamu's list" to achieve twice the results with half the effort.

This matter required careful, long-term planning and thorough preparation. Before that preparation was complete, Mo Hua's immediate task was to thoroughly re-examine Wutu Mountain and the surrounding mountain tribes for any remaining elusive targets.

And so, Mo Hua concurrently surveyed the area, identifying and addressing any omissions, while also formulating his plan to venture outward and hunt barbarian gods. As time passed, Mo Hua's plan steadily progressed.

Whenever he had spare time, he would still visit the big tiger. The most treacherous and beast-ridden peak deep within Wutu Mountain had now become the tiger's private territory.

The several second-rank demonic beasts that once occupied the peak had either been killed by the big tiger or had fled at its mere presence, not daring to trespass again. Wutu Mountain was now entirely under the big tiger's dominion; it had truly become king of the mountain.

The big tiger had also begun hoarding demonic beast meat, specifically for Mo Hua to roast it for him. It had become quite particular now; unless circumstances truly prevented it, it would refuse to eat any demonic meat that Mo Hua had not personally roasted.

Mo Hua had also set up a Nine-Nine Frigid Ice Formation in the cave for the big tiger. Ice-element formations were among the Eight Trigrams wondrous formations, known for their complex variations and scarce inheritances, meaning few cultivators mastered them.

Fortunately, the Grand Void Sect possessed abundant Daoist scriptures on formations. As a disciple of Elder Xun, Mo Hua had studied various formations and read widely, learning some basic ice formations in the process. The Nine-Nine Frigid Ice Formation was one such basic array; though not profound, it was perfectly sufficient.

Whenever the big tiger killed a demonic beast, it would place the carcass on the Nine-Nine Frigid Ice Formation to keep the meat fresh and prevent spoilage. Then, upon Mo Hua's return from hunting barbarian gods, he would roast the meat for it.

While Mo Hua roasted the meat, the big tiger would lie beside him, watching intently with wide eyes. Once the meat was ready, the tiger would let out a low growl, open its massive maw, and allow Mo Hua to toss the meat directly into its mouth. It would then chew slowly, savoring the freshly roasted meal with an expression of pure delight.

Mo Hua also set aside a portion of the meat he roasted for the big tiger. He brought this roasted meat to the Wutu tribe and shared it with little Zhatu.

Zhatu was Elder Zamu's young grandson from the Wutu tribe, and also the child Elder Zamu had prepared to sacrifice to the barbarian god that day.

Zhatu, like other barbarian children, bore beast tattoos on his body. Yet unlike them, he was thin and small, lacking their fierce, barbaric spirit.

The Wutu tribe was impoverished, and even as the elder's grandson, Zhatu had never received much special treatment. Seeing the roasted meat Mo Hua offered him, he was both surprised and hesitant, timidly asking, "Mr. Wu, may I... may I eat this?"

Mo Hua nodded, saying, "You're injured; you need to replenish your strength." Although little Zhatu had improved somewhat, his poor constitution still left him rather weak, and he needed meat to recover. Among the barbarian tribes, diets were generally meat-based.

But perhaps due to the ongoing warfare and lean years, meat was now scarce. Moreover, the "meat" consumed by the barbarian tribes was not of good quality. They had virtually no cooking methods and used few spices, resulting in meat that was fishy, tough, and hard, chewing like dried beef jerky.

The most problematic aspect was that in the Great Wilderness, no distinction was made between carnivorous and herbivorous demonic beasts. They treated all demonic beasts equally, consuming every single one.

Herbivorous demonic beasts were not an issue. However, carnivorous demonic beasts were different; they not only killed but also consumed humans, leading to their flesh and blood being mixed with human vitality and nutrients, and a stronger demonic aura. Consequently, if a cultivator consumed the meat of carnivorous demonic beasts, severe side effects would ensue: irritability, bloodlust, loss of reason, and bloody hallucinations. Furthermore, their meridians would become contaminated by demonic energy, shortening their lifespan. Their cultivation would also be prone to errors, easily leading to qi deviation if they weren't careful.

Yet in the Great Wilderness, these concerns seemed less pressing. Due to the harsh environment, barbarian cultivators often died young anyway, so a shortened lifespan was of little concern. With limited resources, simply having food was a luxury, and they cared little about the type of meat. Some savage tribes even practiced outright cannibalism, truly eating people. In this context, consuming carnivorous demonic beasts—an act somewhat akin to "indirect cannibalism"—would even appear quite "civilized."

These were ingrained habits of the Great Wilderness, developed over thousands of years, which Mo Hua could not change and could only "respect." However, what he gave little Zhatu was carefully selected meat from herbivorous demonic beasts. He had also used formation fire to burn away the demonic energy, remove the fishiness, and then added spices, making it very clean and delicious.

Little Zhatu took a bite and instantly widened his eyes. He then seemed reluctant to finish it, attempting to put it away, but his movements froze halfway.

Mo Hua asked him, "What's wrong?" Little Zhatu was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice, "This delicious meat... I wanted to save some for A-Da, A-Li, and Zhen'er to taste—but I forgot, they're no longer here. Only I am left."

Little Zhatu's expression was despondent. Mo Hua also felt a pang of sadness. This child, at such a tender age, had already experienced the bitter, irreversible pain of separation and death in the human world.

Mo Hua then changed the subject, asking, "Is your name Zhatu?" Little Zhatu nodded. "What does Zhatu mean in the barbarian language?" Mo Hua inquired. Little Zhatu replied, "It means 'flames igniting.'"

Mo Hua smiled faintly. "Your grandfather's name is Zamu; does that mean 'wood'?" Little Zhatu nodded. "It means 'sturdy firewood'—"

He explained, "My grandfather's name is Zamu, which is why he named me 'Zhatu.' It means he is the firewood, nourishing me, the spark, to ignite and become the hope for the future revitalization of the Wutu tribe." After speaking, little Zhatu sighed, "It's a pity I'm useless. My grandfather has indeed become firewood, but this fire of mine just can't ignite."

Mo Hua's gaze became subtle. Little Zhatu's spiritual root was actually quite good. Moreover, the child possessed a kind heart, a quality particularly rare in a savage place like the Great Wilderness.

Mo Hua then asked, "Where are your parents?" Little Zhatu replied forlornly, "My mother is gone. My father was conscripted to fight against the Daoist Court."

Mo Hua's expression tightened slightly. The barbarian army of the Great Wilderness did not seem to be composed solely of cultivators from the princely tribes and their subordinate groups. It appeared many young, strong men were conscripted from smaller and medium-sized tribes. And the treatment of these cultivators, especially from smaller tribes, was undoubtedly poor; most were likely used as "cannon fodder." It was even possible that little Zhatu's father was among the ordinary barbarian soldiers who charged forward to fight the Daoist soldiers during the rebellion at the Great Wilderness Gate that night, when the barbarian army launched a sneak attack.

On the battlefield, they might have been nothing more than insignificant soldiers. Yet within their tribes, they were the pillars of their homes, a child's sole father. And little Zhatu's father had very likely perished that night in the skirmish with the Daoist soldiers, never to return.

Mo Hua sighed softly and asked, "Have all the adults in your tribe been conscripted for war?" Little Zhatu nodded. "Most of the uncles, the ones with higher cultivation and stronger abilities, were taken. Many supplies, food and drink, were also seized. This made the Wutu tribe even weaker. We couldn't defend against the demonic beasts from the mountains, so we had to abandon our original encampment and try to make a living here. With supplies gone and no adults to hunt, food became even scarcer. On top of that, this year there's been an anomaly, with meteors in the sky making it hotter than ever. Some of the millet and wild grain in the mountains have all dried up and died, leaving nothing more to eat. Many people in our Wutu tribe have already starved to death. That's why Grandpa had no choice but to pray to the barbarian god, hoping our Wutu tribe would have better luck, that the millet in the mountains wouldn't wither, and that we'd find prey when hunting—at least enough for the tribe to survive these few years, until..." Little Zhatu's voice dropped a few more octaves, "...until my father and uncles return from the war."

Although he knew in his heart that this was likely impossible. His father and uncles might not return. Even if they did, the elderly, young, sick, and disabled among them might have already starved to death.

Mo Hua's expression was solemn. "Are other tribes in the same situation?" he asked. "Yes," little Zhatu replied, "almost all of them are. Some are even worse off than our Wutu tribe, with entire tribes starving to death. Some, driven by hunger, have resorted to cannibalism."

"Nearby, there used to be several small tribes, but now they're all gone. Entire tribes, everyone perished—"

Mo Hua's brow furrowed. "In such dire straits," he asked again, "why not leave the tribe and seek a livelihood elsewhere?"

"We can't leave the tribe," little Zhatu said gravely. "If you leave the tribe and lose its totem, you become a 'barbarian slave.' Barbarian slaves aren't treated as humans; they're captured and used like livestock, only to die a more miserable death."

Mo Hua sighed deeply. This was the cruel underside of war: both the front lines and the rear were being drained. The poverty and suffering of the Great Wilderness barbarian cultivators were also something he hadn't anticipated. It seemed that no matter where one went, cultivators at the bottom faced the same hardships. Yet, for now, he remained powerless to change these circumstances.

Mo Hua sighed again, looking at little Zhatu. The child was eating the roasted meat he had given him, very slowly and with great care, as if afraid that once it was finished, he would never taste it again. Watching him, Mo Hua felt a pang of sadness. Suddenly, a profound realization struck him, and he couldn't help but wonder: how many times had he witnessed such heartbreaking scenes? How many times had he lamented his "powerlessness" just as he was doing now? Would he simply continue to be "powerless" forever? And was he truly powerless, or was he merely making excuses for his unwillingness to act? Why had he cultivated his current strength, his powerful divine sense, and all his various magical abilities in the first place?

Those who cultivate the Dao seek the Dao, and what they practice should also be the Dao. Even the grandest "Dao" must begin with "small matters" and must eventually be put into practice. If it must be done eventually, then why not start now, with what he can currently accomplish? Defying heaven and changing fate—changing his own fate, and changing the fate of all cultivators at the bottom of the world—he would start right here in the Great Wilderness. He would begin by changing the fate of one person, then one tribe, then many tribes, and eventually the fate of the entire Great Wilderness and its three thousand tribes. By doing so, he would completely reverse the situation of the entire Great Wilderness. In this chaotic era, in this war-torn, savage, and impoverished Three Thousand Great Wilderness, he would lay the foundation for his path to enlightenment and defy the destiny of common people!

Mo Hua's heart pounded, and his blood surged instantly. Little Zhatu, still slowly savoring the roasted meat nearby, watched as Mo Hua's mind became agitated and his expression shifted several times. From his deep-set eyes emanated an aura of destiny as vast and unpredictable as heaven and earth, stirring a profound sense of awe and yearning within the child's young heart. "Mr. Wu?" he whispered.

Mo Hua subtly smiled, slowly withdrew his gaze, and put away all his grand sentiments and ambitions, solidifying the threads of karma. Then he turned his head, looked at little Zhatu, and couldn't help but reach out to stroke his forehead, smiling gently. "You have a good name," he said.