Mo Hua, along with Dan Zhu and others, “occupied the magpie’s nest” by taking over a sub-station of the Shugu Tribe.

In this sub-station, the highest-ranking Barbarian cultivators were only at the early stage of Jindan. The strongest leaders of the sub-station, along with a warrior, had died in the previous ambush. One elder had escaped.

The sub-station was guarded by two Jindan cultivators. One of them also died at Dan Zhu’s hands. The other surrendered.

However, Mo Hua’s gaze swept over the man and saw the sinister glint in his eyes, knowing that he had surrendered falsely. He likely planned to secretly contact others after surrendering, to ambush and assassinate Dan Zhu, or to start a rebellion.

So, Mo Hua found an excuse and had Dan Zhu execute him as well.

This way, the Jindan cultivators of this Shugu sub-station were almost “wiped out.”

On Mo Hua’s side, there were four Jindan cultivators.

These four Jindan cultivators, leading a few hundred elites, were enough to intimidate an entire sub-station of nearly tens of thousands of Shugu Barbarian cultivators.

During this period, other Shugu Barbarian cultivators also resisted. Mo Hua ordered them killed and their heads hung above the tribal gates as a deterrent.

Mo Hua sighed.

In Dao Ting, he was a law-abiding, good cultivator who was kind to others and generally wouldn’t do such “mass killings.”

But in the Great Wilderness, there was truly no other way.

Tribal wars were inherently a matter of life and death.

In troubled times, severe measures had to be used.

Even so, resistance continued within the Shugu Tribe. Groups of Shugu tribesmen emerged, openly defying Mo Hua’s orders.

Mo Hua could only have them all killed.

Of course, such tasks didn’t require him to act personally.

He was the Wu Zhu, responsible only for establishing rules and issuing orders; those who defied orders would die.

The actual killing was done by the Barbarian general, Chi Feng.

Chi Feng was a mid-Jindan Barbarian cultivator general who had been tempered in battle and killed people without batting an eyelid.

Mo Hua observed that Chi Feng chopped off heads like chopping watermelons, one with each stroke. Blood splattered on him, but he treated it like a bath; he was a truly ruthless man.

After Chi Feng killed several waves, slaughtering nearly a hundred people, this Shugu sub-station became obedient.

No one dared to defy Mo Hua’s orders or Chi Feng’s blade anymore.

Mo Hua then began to employ “conciliatory” measures.

First, kill a wave to instill fear and establish rules.

Then, be more lenient so that those who survived would feel gratitude.

The specific tasks were left to Dan Zhu.

Mo Hua, as the Wu Zhu, was responsible for staying behind the scenes, issuing divine edicts, and establishing laws.

Chi Feng, as the Barbarian general, was responsible for quelling rebellions, killing, and establishing authority.

Dan Zhu, as the young master, was to be lenient and benevolent, to appease the people.

With this three-pronged approach, the tens of thousands of Barbarian cultivators in the Shugu sub-station gradually settled down, no longer daring to cause trouble.

The name of Young Master Dan Zhu still carried great weight.

Moreover, in the Barbarian Wilderness, for most Barbarian cultivators, “Jindan” was an unattainable figure.

Under normal circumstances, they did not dare to resist a “Jindan.”

When the tribe was first breached and faced life-or-death situations, they might have been hot-blooded, wanting to fight the Dan Que Tribe to the death.

But after some time, their passion cooled, and they no longer dared to be “reckless.”

They knew that a battle between a Zhuji and a Jindan cultivator was certain death.

And their tribe was not facing “life or death” anyway.

The Dan Que Tribe had not engaged in widespread slaughter, nor had they even “oppressed” them. Their lives continued as before.

Not to mention, Mo Hua was pure and dignified, and Dan Zhu was handsome and benevolent. Both exuded an aura that inspired sincere admiration, making it impossible to harbor thoughts of rebellion.

The people of the Shugu Tribe soon lost their will to fight to the death.

Before long, they even gradually adapted to this way of life.

They didn’t know who was “ruling” them now.

But life went on as usual, and it didn’t matter who “ruled” them, as long as they could live.

Thus, Mo Hua tentatively “subdued” his first force in the Zhuque Mountain Realm.

Mo Hua did not rush to implement “radical” reforms because he knew that wasn’t the most urgent matter.

The famine was like maggots in bone.

The danger had not yet been removed.

Once the famine spread, this “Shugu sub-station” he occupied would not only fail to become an asset but might even become a burden, or even a flesh-and-blood medium for the famine’s spread.

Dan Zhu and Chi Feng were stationed in the Shugu Tribe.

Other Dan Que Barbarian soldiers also temporarily settled and rested in the Shugu sub-station.

Mo Hua, guarded by Ba Shan and Ba Chuan, returned the same way to personally inspect the extent of the famine’s spread.

After walking for about a day and a night, Mo Hua arrived at a cliff. Looking down from above, he saw withered vegetation and decaying corpses in the distance.

Amidst the desolation, the semi-red, semi-yellow famine qi, invisible to ordinary cultivators, spread and moved.

Mo Hua frowned.

This “monster-like” famine qi continued to devour and multiply, becoming even stronger.

But it had not continued to spread; instead, it remained in place, constantly patrolling and lingering within a certain range.

Had it stopped?

No, it was more like it was resting, or accumulating power?

Mo Hua’s gaze was solemn.

Why?

Was it because the spread of this famine qi required some kind of “power” to supply it? Now that it was exhausted, it could only slow down its spread?

Or was it waiting for something?

Mo Hua was unsure. His understanding of the “famine” in the Great Wilderness was too limited, and he had never seen any related tribal records or literature.

After a moment of contemplation, Mo Hua took out some command flags and planted them at the edge of the famine’s spread, instructing Elders Ba Shan and Ba Chuan:

“Send a few Barbarian soldiers to watch here in shifts. Once the boundary of withered vegetation crosses these flags I’ve planted, report to me immediately.”

Ba Shan and Ba Chuan quickly replied, “Yes, Lord Wu Zhu.”

Afterward, Mo Hua returned to the Shugu sub-station.

The spread of the famine had temporarily stopped. Although it was unknown when it would resume spreading, at least for now, there was a little breathing room.

Otherwise, they would have to evacuate quickly.

This Shugu sub-station would also have to be completely abandoned.

As for the people in the Shugu Tribe, there was no doubt they wouldn’t follow them, and this sub-station of tens of thousands would surely die in the famine.

And once enough people died in the famine…

Mo Hua couldn’t say what would happen next.

The signs of rise and fall must have a beginning.

The fortunes of good and ill must reflect their virtues.

Mo Hua merely vaguely guessed that this could absolutely not be a good omen.

It was even highly likely to be the source of a great disaster, the “prelude” to a great calamity…

But no matter what happened next, what needed to be done still had to be done.

Upon returning to the Shugu sub-station, Mo Hua completely brought over the system he had researched and practiced in the Wu Tu and Yuan Lu Mountain Realms, teaching it to Dan Zhu little by little.

This included how to worship deities, strictly prohibit indiscriminate killing, flatten power, equally distribute wealth, care for the elderly, treat Barbarian slaves kindly, educate children, and so on.

This system was not particularly ingenious, but it was very practical.

Practical measures were more beneficial than perfect “theories.”

Sometimes, trying one’s best, even if a bit clumsy, rough, and imperfect, was already better than most people.

And knowing and acting are one, with “action” transforming “knowledge.”

Through these actions, Mo Hua was also “instilling” in Dan Zhu some ideas that truly benefited the common people and conformed to the “Great Dao.”

He taught Dan Zhu how to “transform” Barbarian tribes.

He hoped that one day, Dan Zhu would live up to his “expectations” and become the enlightened ruler of the Dan Que Tribe, and even the Zhuque Mountain Realm.

He even hoped Dan Zhu could further become a “hero” who changed the entire Barbarian Wilderness.

As his teacher, Mo Hua would be content.

Dan Zhu also readily accepted Mo Hua’s “teachings.”

Even though he was the young master, a Jindan cultivator, and a rare genius of the Dan Que Tribe in a thousand years, he still held immense respect and trust for Mo Hua, his Wu teacher.

Many previous doubts that he couldn’t figure out, the Wu teacher explained to him.

Many things he wanted to do but felt powerless or didn’t know how to start, the Wu teacher told him exactly how to proceed.

Even often when his heart wavered,

It was the Wu teacher who strengthened his conviction and showed him the path beneath his feet.

He let him know that a grand vision like “revitalizing the tribe and benefiting the Barbarian Wilderness,” which seemed like a “daydream,” had to start from the smallest details, and he had to practice and reflect on it himself.

What he heard in his dream that day was true and not empty.

The Wu teacher had indeed been sent down by the Divine Lord to guide his path.

And he was indeed “guiding” himself.

Dan Zhu, like a “student,” believed in and practiced everything Mo Hua said, possessing extremely high comprehension and a very kind nature.

This also made Mo Hua feel a sense of emotion.

Dan Zhu might truly be a peerless genius with a “natural Dao Heart.”

Others often thought that Dan Zhu’s innate “Dao Heart” was a heart seeking the Dao, a talent for cultivation, but this was not entirely true.

Dan Zhu’s “Dao Heart” was more of a heart of great benevolence, a heart to “cultivate one’s own Dao and benefit all living beings.”

It was just that since childhood, he had lacked “guidance,” was constrained everywhere, and was even considered “naïve and hypocritical.” Thus, this “Dao Heart” gradually became somewhat confused and ignorant.

If this continued, he would only betray this innate “Dao Heart” and fall into the “selfishness” of vying for power and profit with his elder brothers.

The Dao Heart is subtle.

Once this faint Dao Heart is extinguished, it is almost impossible for it to sprout again.

And in the Great Wilderness, even in Jiuzhou, this “Dao Heart” of great benevolence is actually not very well recognized.

Anyone with extraordinary talent who can accomplish great things, if their Dao Heart is strong, they become a hero; if their selfish desires are strong, they become a hegemon.

The common people, like fish eyes, only praise the ruthlessness of a “hegemon,” but do not know the preciousness of a “hero.”

They even extol the selfishness of hegemons and disparage the selflessness of heroes.

They believe hegemons are decisive and powerful, while heroes are hypocritical and incompetent.

Yet, they do not know that in this world, those who walk the righteous path and accomplish great things are actually truly “powerful” in ability.

Because walking the righteous path is actually a hundred times more difficult than walking the crooked path.

And Dan Zhu possessed this “Dao Heart” of a hero.

The preciousness of this Dao Heart could only be seen by Mo Hua.

This was because Mo Hua had extraordinary innate spiritual perception, had been tempered by formations for a long time, and his spiritual consciousness was profound. Now, having learned about karma and comprehending heavenly secrets, he could see through the physical body to the spirit and heart-mind deep within a person, discerning the inner truth and goodness, beauty and ugliness.

Dan Zhu was like unpolished jade.

What Mo Hua had to do was to prevent this “unpolished jade” from being contaminated and to polish it well.

This was what a “teacher” should do.

Even though he, the teacher, was still only at the Zhuji stage.

Even though he, the teacher, was younger than Dan Zhu.

As Dan Zhu matured step by step in the process of governing the Shugu sub-station, and his Dao Heart gradually solidified, Mo Hua was also secretly doing another thing.

He was going to “steal” the Barbarian god of the Shugu sub-station.

Cultivators do not cultivate spiritual consciousness, so most cultivators know nothing about the “spiritual world.”

The Shugu Tribe was the same.

They had faith, and it was fervent, but they had no idea what kind of deity they believed in.

They were even confused about whether they were worshipping the same Barbarian god.

The more ignorant, the more superstitious.

Similarly, the more superstitious, the more ignorant.

This also made things convenient for Mo Hua.

As the “Wu Zhu,” at the spiritual level, whatever tricks he played, no one could possibly know.

This Shugu sub-station was large in scale and populous, naturally having a temple and a “Barbarian god” it worshipped.

Mo Hua had long discovered their temple.

Mo Hua also found some Shugu tribesmen and, through various means—hinting, gentle persuasion, or coercion and inducement—learned about the sacrificial methods of the Shugu Tribe.

Earlier, the situation was chaotic, and Mo Hua hadn’t had time to act.

Now that the situation had stabilized a bit, Mo Hua naturally set his sights on this Barbarian god.

In the vast Shugu temple, a statue of a white-boned bull’s head stood.

The entire temple contained only Mo Hua and Tie Shugu.

Mo Hua set up the altar according to the usual methods of the Shugu Tribe and then commanded Tie Shugu, “You, dance.”

Tie Shugu truly didn’t know what to say.

Who with broken arms and legs danced every day?

But Mo Hua was the high-ranking and powerful “Lord Wu Zhu,” and Tie Shugu dared not offend him in the slightest. He could only resign himself, bowing his head, and softly said:

“Yes.”

In the spacious temple, the candlelight was clear, and sacrificial animals were placed on the altar.

Tie Shugu, following the “dance score” Mo Hua provided, began to perform the sacrificial dance that was popular in the Shugu sub-station, used to please the Barbarian god and welcome its descent.

Even within the same large tribe, different main tribes, sub-tribes, and even nomadic tribes had different “sacrificial dances.”

In the eyes of the Shugu tribesmen, this was a difference in “customs.”

But Mo Hua knew that this was because they were not worshipping the same Barbarian god at all, so the sacrificial dances were naturally different. Tie Shugu’s limbs were broken; Mo Hua had ordered them broken.

Now they were much better; Mo Hua had also ordered them reattached.

Now Mo Hua told him to dance, and Tie Shugu could only drag his incomplete body, with somewhat stiff but sufficiently strange movements,

to complete the sacrificial dance.

After the dance, a spiritual mist began to permeate the temple.

The surrounding world began to distort.

An inexplicable suction force pulled Tie Shugu’s spiritual consciousness from his Sea of Consciousness, drawing it into a certain illusory dream.

This was not the first time Tie Shugu had experienced this sensation.

Nor was it the first time Tie Shugu had experienced such terror.

He buried his head on the ground, trembling, his eyes tightly shut, not daring to look at anything, fearing he would commit a taboo and die without a burial place. The next instant, a “thud” sounded.

It seemed that something’s head had fallen to the ground.

This head, Tie Shugu thought, sounded a bit different from the last time.

But ultimately, it seemed there was no difference at all—