Compared to the towering figures of the barbarians, this silhouette was too frail and too delicate. Standing on the tall divine altar, it appeared tiny and eerie.

Everyone was startled.

Especially the three High Shamans present: Yan Zhu, Qing Zhu, and the elder Hei Jiu.

They had collapsed from exhaustion and couldn’t struggle for the moment, but as their eyes moved, they could see the shamanic robe worn by the slender figure, and a face as fair as jade, as clear as water, and as handsome as a painting.

Yan Zhu exclaimed in shock, “It’s you?!”

Mo Hua smiled faintly.

Yan Zhu’s heart churned with shock, “How did you get up here? You are only at the Foundation Establishment stage, you—”

His mind was filled with astonishment and confusion.

Even Qing Zhu and the elder Hei Jiu were utterly incredulous.

This was the divine altar, a place entwined with the fire of the Vermilion Bird, a place where late-stage Golden Core cultivators dared not tread, and an ancient altar that even they, as High Shamans, had to approach with utmost caution.

Below the altar, late-stage Golden Core powerhouses were battling.

Outside, large armies besieged the area. How did this young man, only at Foundation Establishment, manage to bypass all these obstacles and ascend to the divine altar?

Moreover, how did he manage to evade the perception of the three High Shamans and remain hidden until now?

A strange chill ran through the hearts of all three.

Just then, Yan Zhu’s heart suddenly stirred, and he quickly said, “Little—little brother—”

Mo Hua looked at Yan Zhu.

Yan Zhu gave a ingratiating smile, “Do you still remember the agreement between you and me? You do—no, you help me with something. I can introduce you to the Royal Court, confer upon you the title of a formal shaman, allowing you to walk openly in the Great Wilderness. All major tribes will bow and obey you—”

Mo Hua’s gaze flickered slightly, seemingly interested.

Seeing this, Yan Zhu immediately said, “Now—help me place my divine artifact on the plate beneath the Vermilion Bird Golden Tree—”

“This is a benevolent act of the divine path. As soon as the Great Deity Zhuhuo descends, you will surely be blessed with countless favors!”

Upon hearing this, Mo Hua involuntarily stepped towards the Zhuhuo Crystal Jade on the ground.

Yan Zhu’s expression was overjoyed. Qing Zhu and the elder Hei Jiu’s faces changed drastically, but no matter how anxious they were, they were powerless to stop him.

In just about ten steps, Mo Hua reached the Zhuhuo Crystal Jade, bent down, and picked up this precious fiery-red crystal jade.

Yan Zhu’s face was beaming with the ecstasy of impending success.

Mo Hua carefully examined the Zhuhuo Crystal Jade, then touched it with his hand, found no problems, and then—silently tucked it into his storage bag.

And then there was no “then.”

Yan Zhu’s eyes almost popped out.

A mouthful of blood was stuck in his chest; he almost spat it out.

Gods above, on the ancient divine altar, in front of so many people, openly acting as a divine thief?! Has he no shame at all?!

“You—” Yan Zhu was too furious to speak.

After stashing the Zhuhuo Crystal Jade, Mo Hua walked towards the wisp of Qingqiu Silk.

Qing Zhu’s face paled, and she quickly said, “Little—Daoist friend, this is a woman’s silk, a relic of the Qingqiu God. It’s not suitable for a young man to carry—” But Mo Hua had already reached the Qingqiu Silk, extended his fair hand, and picked up the wisp of silk.

Qing Zhu bit her red lips, her face filled with allure, the charm in her eyes almost dripping out like water. Her voice was numbingly soft, infused with enchantment as she said to Mo Hua:

“Little friend—if you offer this silk to the divine altar, this concubine is willing to let little brother—do as he pleases. The blessing of the Qingqiu God will surely let little friend experience the ecstatic joy of inverted phoenix and dragon in the mortal world—”

Mo Hua turned his head and glanced at Qing Zhu.

Their eyes met.

Qing Zhu’s eyes were like water, full of amorousness.

Mo Hua’s gaze was clear and unblemished.

He looked into Qing Zhu’s eyes, and impassively tucked the Qingqiu Silk, the divine artifact, into his storage bag, his heart unmoved.

And as Mo Hua looked at her with his clear, unblemished eyes, the lust in Qing Zhu’s eyes faded, replaced by a sense of self-abasement and inferiority.

Qing Zhu was shocked, then horrified.

Who—who exactly is this person—After putting away the Qingqiu Silk, Mo Hua looked around and walked towards the last divine artifact:

The Wujiu Eye.

This was dug out from the elder Hei Jiu’s eye, still stained with black blood.

It was also the key to the descent of the Wujiu God.

The elder Hei Jiu was now too preoccupied to be shocked by Mo Hua’s strangeness, or to ponder Mo Hua’s origins. He could only try his best to say in a hoarse voice:

“Daoist friend, wait—Daoist friend, Wujiu are carrion-eaters, and their dead eye is different from the divine artifacts of Zhuhuo and Qingqiu. It inherently carries the aura of death and decay. Non-believers of the Wujiu path, who do not eat rotten flesh daily to assimilate the putrid qi, cannot carry it, otherwise their minds will be defiled by the dead eye and their Dao polluted—Daoist friend—you—”

His earnest persuasion seemed to have genuinely worked.

After picking up the Wujiu Eye, Mo Hua actually looked at the dead eye in contemplation, and did not put it into his storage bag.

The elder Hei Jiu was stunned, then his heart stirred, his deep gaze flickered, and he said in a deep voice:

“Daoist friend, could you—place the dead eye—on the Vermilion Bird Divine Altar for this old man? This great kindness, this old man will repay with his life in this lifetime—”

Mo Hua heard this, paused for a moment, and actually held the Wujiu Eye, walking towards the golden tree beneath the Vermilion Bird statue. This action caused almost everyone present to be utterly astonished.

All the barbarian soldiers outside the divine altar, whether from the Danque, Bifang, Yanyi, Huoying, or Wujiu tribes, were confused and perplexed.

Some who believed in Mo Hua, such as Dan Zhu, Chi Feng, and the people of the Shugu tribe, were also startled, wondering what their Shaman Lord was doing.

Which faction did their Shaman Lord belong to?

Which deity did he believe in?

Was he—really the Shaman sent by the Divine Lord to save the Great Wilderness?

At this moment, many barbarian cultivators who had originally trusted Mo Hua began to waver in their belief.

Dan Zhu also looked at Mo Hua with apprehension, frowning, and muttering, “Mister—”

Meanwhile, on the divine altar square, great chieftains like Dan Lie and Yanyi were furious, their eyes red with rage.

“This kid who impersonated a shaman—is a traitor?!”

“Is he a spy from the Wujiu tribe?”

He impersonated a shaman and infiltrated the tribe just to trigger the descent of the Wujiu God at this crucial moment?! Shock and anger filled their hearts.

The generals of the Wujiu tribe exchanged bewildered glances.

Even the Young Master of the Wujiu tribe frowned as he looked at Mo Hua’s figure.

He didn’t remember the Wujiu tribe having planted such a treacherous and terrifying “spy” in the Vermilion Bird tribe—

On the divine altar, Yan Zhu sternly said to Mo Hua, “Brat! What are you doing? Are you crazy?!”

Qing Zhu’s face was also pale.

But Mo Hua ignored them, simply stepping forward, until he reached the Vermilion Bird Golden Tree.

He looked up, glanced at the Vermilion Bird statue, which seemed to be flowing with fire, and then at the divine throne beneath the Vermilion Bird statue, entwined with the Vermilion Bird’s blood.

Mo Hua’s gaze slightly narrowed.

But then, he did nothing, instead lowering his gaze to the “offering plate” beneath the golden tree in front of him.

This golden offering plate was the “fuse” for the divine descent.

Now, a “spark” was needed to light the fuse—Mo Hua slowly raised his hand and, under the gaze of all, placed the Wujiu Eye onto the offering plate.

An extremely cold and decaying aura began to spread across the divine altar.

“Kid! Stop!”

But at this moment, no one could stop Mo Hua.

Yan Zhu’s face was deathly pale.

Fear also appeared in Qing Zhu’s eyes.

The great chieftains of the Vermilion Bird Mountain Alliance tribes instantly felt their spirits plummet to the bottom, trembling all over, their hands and feet icy cold.

The barbarian cultivators of the other tribes also showed despair.

Only the ecstatic laughter of the elder Hei Jiu echoed above the divine altar. His expression was wild and arrogant, grinning maniacally:

“Hahaha! It’s done!”

“It’s done!”

“The great plan is complete! My lifelong wish has been fulfilled!”

“The Great God of the Wujiu tribe will descend upon Vermilion Bird Mountain, sit upon the ancient divine throne, wield supreme authority, command the faith of the barren lands, dominate the will of all beings, and I—as the most loyal servant of the god, will receive supreme reward, and live eternally in the sea of death and decay—”

Amidst the elder Hei Jiu’s delirious ravings.

The Wujiu Eye transformed into a black spark, burning completely.

The decaying divine fire ignited the golden tree, and the flames spread along the golden tree, ascending all the way to the Vermilion Bird’s mouth.

In the Vermilion Bird’s mouth, there was a golden ring.

The decaying fire, along the golden tree, ignited the golden ring.

The golden ring, activated by the decaying “divine path,” began to emit dazzling light, communicating with the divine realm in the ethereal, becoming a “bright flame” and a bridge in the vast divine domain.

The Vermilion Bird holding fire was a beacon.

The beacon guided the way, and the divine path descended.

The decaying fire instantly surged with the wind, soaring into the sky, forming an invisible divine念结界 (nian jie jie, spiritual barrier).

The entire Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm was covered in dark clouds, and a biting cold wind pierced the bones.

A putrid smell began to spread between heaven and earth. Black feathers began to fall from the sky, accompanied by blood rain and rotten flesh.

But this blood rain was not real rain, and the rotten flesh was not real flesh, but the concretization of the deity’s念力 (nian li, spiritual power).

Above the Vermilion Bird divine throne, at the center of the decaying flames.

A gigantic, black, decaying wing slowly emerged from the ignited void barrier.

This was the true form of the Wujiu God.

This was a true—”divine descent.”

Because at the beginning of the divine descent, it borrowed the power of the divine altar, and the spiritual power was so strong that it twisted the boundary between illusion and reality.

Therefore, many barbarian cultivators who originally did not have the ability to see deities with their naked eyes could now witness this astonishing and magnificent scene between heaven and earth.

They could see the great “miracle” of a true deity being born.

This was a metaphysical deity, a miracle materialized in the world.

All the barbarian cultivators of the Wujiu tribe showed fanaticism.

Everyone in the alliance tribes, even the noble great chieftains and the high-ranking shamans, faced immense, boundless fear. But they could only watch.

They had fought, struggled, and resisted, but ultimately failed to prevent this scene from happening.

They could only watch “the end of the world” descend, desperately awaiting the judgment of an outer god.

They might have powerful physical bodies, strong cultivation, and inherited Dao techniques.

But these things were “sublunary” powers.

In the face of true “metaphysical” great fear, they felt like ants, powerless.

Before the divine descent, it could be stopped.

But once the divine descent began, no one could reverse it.

And so, in the stillness of heaven and earth, in front of myriad beings.

A gigantic, half-god, half-human deity, with black wings and the head of a dead Wujiu, slowly dropped from the vortex of decaying fire, finally descending completely into the world.

The Wujiu divine descent was thus complete.

The Great God of the Wujiu tribe, using the Vermilion Bird’s held fire as a guide and the ancient divine altar as a medium, finally descended upon Vermilion Bird Mountain. At that instant, the decaying divine aura, like a raging tide, swept across the land.

Heaven and earth changed color.

All the barbarian cultivators of the Wujiu tribe knelt on the ground, kowtowing to their deity, shouting, “Great God Wujiu, immortal and everlasting.”

Even the arrogant Young Master of the Wujiu tribe, bearing dragon tattoos, was awed by the deity’s greatness, knelt on the ground, and bowed to the ancestral deity of the Wujiu tribe.

And not just the Wujiu tribe, some barbarian cultivators from the Vermilion Bird Mountain tribes also began to show fear and knelt on the ground.

The Wujiu God was not their belief.

But seeing the powerful divine aura before them, they couldn’t help but kneel.

Deities must not be offended.

Deities require faith.

With someone taking the lead, more and more people from Vermilion Bird Mountain knelt on the ground, prostrating themselves before the Great God Wujiu.

Only a few late-stage Golden Core great chieftains and grand elders, as well as people like Zheng Dan Zhu, who were influenced by Mo Hua and had firm wills, could grit their teeth, resist the divine pressure, and refuse to succumb to inner fear.

But such people were, after all, a minority. More and more people knelt, the political black cloud collapsed, a vast, dark expanse.

The entire Vermilion Bird World, all living beings, bowed in submission.

And on the divine altar, feeling the “faith” of living beings, the newly descended Great God Wujiu also opened its eyes.

Its eyes contained supreme majesty and indifference to life and death.

Around it, due to divine power, reality had already been distorted, entering the dream realm.

Above the divine altar, was the true divine domain.

And what manifested in the dream realm was the presence of divine thought.

At this moment, there were still three people on the divine altar, and what they presented was no longer a flesh and blood body.

Yan Zhu’s spiritual body was twice as tall, covered in fire patterns, like an “Infernal Demon.”

Qing Zhu, on the other hand, grew two long white fox tails, and even her face became fox-like and charming.

The elder Hei Jiu was half-human, half-Wujiu.

These were their spiritual bodies, and also the “forms” of divine consciousness bestowed upon them by the deities they believed in.

At this time, the elder Hei Jiu was kneeling on the ground. Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu, exhausted from the previous death battle, their spiritual bodies somewhat dim, could only struggle with all their might to resist the majesty of the Wujiu God.

Upholding their shamanic dignity and loyalty to their own beliefs, they absolutely could not submit to the Wujiu God.

But in front of a deity, no one was allowed to stand.

The Wujiu God’s dark pupils constricted, and an even more violent pressure, like a tempestuous tsunami, instantly spread out, suppressing the entire Vermilion Bird World.

This was a pressure actively released by the will of a true god.

“Mortals” who only cultivated their physical bodies and spiritual energy had no means to resist.

Throughout the entire Vermilion Bird World, all barbarian soldiers, regardless of tribe, origin, cultivation stage, or strength, were suppressed by the divine might and instantly knelt on the ground.

Even great chieftains like Dan Lie, at the late Golden Core stage, had to bow their heads in humiliation, half-kneeling.

Below the divine altar, the only one who didn’t truly kneel was Dan Zhu.

His heart was as red as a Vermilion Bird, and Mo Hua’s words echoed in his ears, nourishing his Dao heart.

But even so, his waist was slowly bending under the pressure, and he couldn’t lift his head. Besides Dan Zhu, on the divine altar, the elder Hei Jiu had already knelt down.

This was the deity he believed in; he had to kneel, and eagerly wanted to.

However, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu were suffering torment under the Wujiu’s divine might.

Instinctively, they wanted to kneel and submit.

But as shamans, their long-accumulated faith in their own deities deeply resisted and feared such “betrayal.”

Yet, no matter how much they resisted or feared, their knees kept bending, and their bodies kept lowering.

Shamans were only human.

And humans, after all, could not resist a deity.

Just then, a deep, hoarse voice, tinged with the aura of death and decay, suddenly echoed in Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu’s ears:

“Since you have seen this venerable one, why do you not kneel?”

This was the voice of the Great God Wujiu.

It was a divine pronouncement from a deity. Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu were suddenly startled, filled with great fear, but the next moment they realized something was amiss; this sentence did not seem to be directed at them.

Yan Zhu and the other managed to lift their heads, discovering that the Great God Wujiu was not looking at them at all.

The Great God Wujiu was looking at a “child” standing before him.

Yan Zhu’s pupils slightly constricted. He looked closely, and was instantly startled, recognizing him.

This was—that kid who impersonated a shaman!

That fake shaman was originally a youth, but now he seemed to have grown even taller, like a child of about ten, with rosy lips and white teeth, as if carved from pink jade.

Aside from his good looks, everything else was unremarkable.

But this “unremarkable” child was almost the only one in the entire mountain realm who could stand upright before the Great God Wujiu.

Not only that, he could also speak brazenly.

“Kneel?” A clear, cold snort rang out, Mo Hua said, “Are you, a scruffy bird, worthy?”

As soon as these words were uttered, it was like a thunderclap from the heavens, startling Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu, making them numb all over.

They had never imagined in their lives—that someone would dare to openly insult a deity in front of the deity. He—

Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu felt their scalps prickle, too shocked to speak.

The elder Hei Jiu, who was kneeling on the ground, was also furious and shocked at this moment.

And even more enraged was the Wujiu God.

The aura of death and decay boiled within its divine body, and the divine pressure distorted space itself.

The entire Vermilion Bird World, all barbarian cultivators and living beings, felt the wrath of this ancient great deity, filled with extreme terror.

And in this extreme terror, which enveloped all beings.

A clear but majestic voice resonated throughout heaven and earth:

“I am the Shaman of the Divine Lord!”

“All my great power comes from the Divine Lord!”

“Today, in the name of a Shaman, I invite the Divine Lord to descend and cleanse the world of all evil gods and heretics!”

This righteous voice echoed in everyone’s ears.

Everyone looked up and saw that on the high divine altar, the “unremarkable” child seemed to have transformed into a spark, his light instantly surging, radiating thousands of golden rays, magnificent and glorious, like the rising sun, the scorching sun, dispelling the gloom, illuminating the sky above, turning night into day, illuminating the land, making it bright—

This seemed to be the true “divine descent.”

At that moment, all beings in the Vermilion Bird World seemed to witness the true meaning of “God.”

It was as if they saw the legendary “Divine Lord” descending into the world.