The Quest for Immortality

That night, when the news of attacking the Wulu Tribe spread, it immediately caused a stir.

An elder from a small tribe, along with ten barbarian cultivators, became ”deserters”.

They dreaded the Wulu Tribe.

They also did not want to follow Mo Hua, this blindly selfish, foolishly arrogant pretty boy who calls himself a ”shaman” to their deaths.

Mo Hua was not polite, ordering on the spot to capture these deserters, chop off their heads, and hang them outside the tent as a warning to others.

Mercy does not command troops.

If it were in the Nine State, he would still be gentle.

But this is the Great Wilderness, where barbarian cultivators are inherently savage, and he wouldn’t show any leniency.

And indeed, the heads of these deserters served as a bloody warning, temporarily deterring anyone from becoming a ”deserter” again.

But this also served as a wake-up call for Mo Hua.

In a situation where minds are not united, it is truly difficult to lead a team...

Fighting alone, or collaborating with a few smart people and experts, is entirely different from trying to scheme with a team of ”pig teammates”; the difficulty is completely different too.

Right now, it’s just attacking the small Wulu Tribe, and there are already deserters before even starting the fight.

If in the future, they attack bigger and stronger tribes, what would happen then?

Wouldn’t it be like when the signal fire is lit, all the subordinates would instantly flee?

Mo Hua frowned slightly.

Though the situation is not at that stage yet, it’s important to prepare for the rainy day.

One must establish prestige.

One must consolidate hearts.

One must cultivate military strength.

At the same time, his current forces are still in the ”startup” phase; he must preserve living strength, and these ”miscellaneous soldiers” cannot just die casually.

Mo Hua cautiously reconsidered the situation of the Wulu Tribe.

Objectively speaking, the Wulu Tribe indeed has strong power and is not easily dealt with.

The most tricky part is not in the ”killing,” but in ”subduing.”

To kill the barbarian cultivators of the Wulu Tribe, even if it’s the massacre of the entire tribe, is actually not a difficult task for Mo Hua.

Whether through the formation for large-scale slaughter.

Or spending time using spells to individually kill, none are really hard.

After all, the highest cultivation elder of the Wulu Tribe is only at the Foundation Establishment Late Stage, which in Mo Hua’s eyes is hardly worth mentioning.

But the problem is, he cannot indulge in mass slaughter; otherwise, the fateful evilness may strike, leading to the risk of losing consciousness or his uncle’s arrival.

Moreover, killing all the people of the Wulu Tribe would mean no manpower left for him.

The territory would be conquered for nothing.

This would also go against his original intention.

How to intimidate more than two thousand barbarian cultivators without major slaughter has become a very tricky task.

Once intimidation fails, he himself won’t be in danger, but the cultivators from the Wutu Tribe, Elder Zamu, and the two hundred barbarian cultivators he gathered from other small tribes would certainly be slaughtered by the cruel barbarian cultivators of the Wulu Tribe.

Yet he can’t afford not to bring these two hundred miscellaneous soldiers along.

Without taking them to fight battles everywhere, establish prestige, and foster a sense of advancing and retreating together, these miscellaneous soldiers would just be scattered sand and a pile of waste.

Without people whom he cultivates, he cannot form a force, and all plans would be empty talk.

After all, he is now a person with the ”ambition” to change the status quo and achieve greatness.

He is no longer in the mindset of one who, when full, the entire family doesn’t go hungry.

Many things, he can’t always handle all on his own.

Especially if it reaches the Late Stage of conflict, involving clashes and wars with major tribes, the role he plays alone will be limited; ultimately, the barbarian soldiers under his command are needed to charge at the front.

Mo Hua sighed softly, then calmed himself, beginning to consider the various matters that would arise in the ”expedition” against the Wulu Tribe, carefully deducing from this to make comprehensive plans.

...

Three days later, two hundred barbarian cultivators began their march towards the fearsome Wulu Tribe.

Everyone’s face was as if they were mourning their parents.

Some even had dim eyes, looking as if they were marching to their death.

Even Elder Zamu, most ”loyal” to Mo Hua, looked solemn.

Only Little Zatu, walking behind Mo Hua, proudly holding the shaman’s banner, had an expression of pride.

Ten miles away from the Wulu Territory, a strong smell of blood spread out, with heads placed on either side of the road, stained with meat sauce.

Some of the barbarian cultivators in the team felt their legs go weak, nearly falling to the ground, barely able to walk.

The rest also showed fear, their faces full of dread.

One barbarian cultivator, overwhelmed by fear, still tried to desert, but was caught by Elder Zamu and stabbed to death.

No one attempted to escape anymore, but the mood within the team instantly became tense again.

At this moment, Mo Hua’s calm and solemn voice echoed in each barbarian cultivator’s ears:

”You are summoned by this shaman, to fight for the Divine Lord.”

”Even if you die, you may receive blessings from the Divine Lord.”

”But should you flee, you will be seen as betraying the Divine Lord and be cast into the Great Wilderness Purgatory after death, to eternally sink.”

Mo Hua’s voice seemed to carry a magical power, radiating irresistible majesty.

Upon hearing this, everyone’s hearts were filled with fear, and they bow their heads in reverence, not daring to harbor thoughts of escape anymore.

Mo Hua nodded and then, dressed in a black robe, with a solemn expression, walked steadfastly at the front of the group.

The two hundred barbarian cultivators, seeing this, tightly followed behind Mo Hua.

They advanced another ten miles until they reached the front of the Wulu Tribe.

Several dozen barbarian cultivators from the Wulu Tribe had long detected the news and were guarding before the gate.

Mo Hua pointed his hand, ”Attack the gate.”

The two hundred barbarian cultivators behind him hesitated for a moment, then raised their bone blades and bone spears, charging towards the gate of the Wulu Tribe.

The chaotic battle lasted about a hundred rounds.

After losing two or three men, the two hundred barbarian cultivators broke through the gate of the Wulu camp, and everyone rushed inside.