The Quest for Immortality

The Barbarian General was terrified, enraged, and unable to understand. ”You don’t even want to know who we are?”

Mo Hua said, ”The identity of the dead isn’t worth caring about.”

Danque and the Golden Core cultivators of the Shugubu began to kill in earnest.

The Bone Heavy Armored troops, together with the other Barbarian Soldiers, began the slaughter.

The Blood Qi in the forest grew thicker, wails rose on all sides. Watching one ”reinforcement” after another die, the Barbarian General’s eyes almost split.

Dan Zhu also stepped forward, drew a long saber, and prepared to end this Barbarian General’s life.

The one killing him was Dan Zhu, yet the Barbarian General stared viciously at Mo Hua, and said with hate:

”My Wujiu Tribe will not let you go. One day, your tribe will be trampled flat by the Monster Soldiers of my Wujiu Tribe. Your clansmen will be refined into black smoke. You too will be torn to pieces by the Young Master and fed into the mouth of the Wujiu Great God, never to be reborn for all eternity...”

Mo Hua waved his hand. ”You talk too much nonsense.”

Dan Zhu’s saber fell in a single stroke and chopped off the Barbarian General’s head.

The Barbarian General’s head, blood spraying, rolled three times on the ground before stopping, eyes staring wide, full of unwillingness in death.

Dan Zhu walked up, stepped on his face, and forced his eyes shut for him.

By now the fighting had already become sparse and scattered, nearing its end.

The reinforcements this Barbarian General had summoned, though riding Barbarian Horses, with decent combat strength and in no small number, were still far from enough before Mo Hua’s more than eight hundred Barbarian Soldiers—especially with the Bone Heavy Armor troops present.

The combat strength was crushing; the battle was a one-sided ”massacre.”

Not long after, these Barbarian Generals and Barbarian Soldiers who called themselves the ”Wujiu Tribe” were all killed.

Mo Hua ordered his men to loot the spoils of war; over a hundred Barbarian Horses were all confiscated. Afterwards, the corpses of the dead were thrown over the cliff to erase all traces.

The Monster Beasts in the mountains would naturally feast on their bodies, further destroying the corpses and wiping out evidence.

After finishing all this, Mo Hua ordered the Barbarian Soldiers to withdraw first.

He himself took Dan Zhu and a few others and went again to the Acha Tribe, to give a simple burial to the tribespeople of Acha who had died.

Mo Hua also personally buried Ah Bu.

After burying him, Mo Hua wanted to set up a stele for Ah Bu.

But Ah Bu was just a very ordinary Barbarian Tribes youth, with no cultivation, no contributions, no achievements worth speaking of. Perhaps he had some aspirations, still held a heart to repay kindness—but before anything could begin, it had all been cut off abruptly.

His entire life was already over.

Mo Hua truly had nothing else to write, so he only inscribed the simple words ”Grave of the Youth Ah Bu” on the tombstone.

Ah Bu was already dead.

But next, there might be many more youths who would die just as simply.

Perhaps even now, more ”Ah Bu” were already dying.

In chaotic times, their limbs were hacked off, or their bodies cut in half at the waist; innocent lives were ended by turmoil and war.

Mo Hua took a deep breath and slowly let the oppressive emotions in his heart settle.

”There is... no room for gentleness anymore...”

Looking at the tombstone before him, Mo Hua’s expression gradually turned icy, and in his eyes surfaced a decisive resolve to kill.

...

More than half a day later.

Elsewhere, hundreds of li away, in front of a great mountain valley, countless dense ranks of Barbarian Soldiers were arrayed, their momentum extremely awe-inspiring.

These Barbarian Soldiers wore black Barbarian Armor of a sinister, warped style. Among them were many men riding Barbarian Horses, and even various avian Monster Beasts bound in chains of iron lock.

And in the center of the Barbarian Soldiers were a few hunched Witch Cultivators, faces covered in black blood, dancing a strange war dance to rouse the troops’ morale.

This was a powerful Barbarian Tribes army, with complete troop types and Witch Cultivators to boost morale.

A Cultivator in a pure black cloak, with a cold, gloomy face and the appearance of a youth, sat atop a ferocious, terrifying Vulture Monster Bird sealed by eighteen demonic locks.

This person was the master of this Barbarian Tribes army.

A moment later, hoofbeats sounded. A scout galloped over, rolled off his horse from afar, hunched his body, walked to the black-cloaked youth, and knelt, saying:

”Reporting to Young Master, Lord Red Vulture... is dead. Over two hundred warriors are also dead. Their corpses were thrown in the wilderness, the Barbarian Horses are all gone; it seems... they were robbed.”

The black-cloaked youth’s expression did not change; only between his brows gathered a murderous severity. His voice was hoarse, like a night owl.

”Who dares kill people of my Wujiu Tribe?”

The scout pressed his forehead to the ground, his whole body trembling uncontrollably, forcing himself to speak through his fear:

”Those bandits... are very strong, their moves clean, leaving not many clues. Only from the traces at the scene, it should be that there were ’Barbarian heavy troops’ encircling them, so Lord Red Vulture and the others met with misfortune...”

”Heavy troops...”

The black-cloaked youth’s pupils contracted.

In this small place, there was actually a tribe capable of raising a force of Heavy Armored Barbarian Soldiers?

”Anything else?” the black-cloaked youth asked.

The scout said, ”Time was short, there was no chance for a detailed search, so this lowly one rushed back at once to report to you...”

The black-cloaked youth showed a hint of displeasure, but did not overly reproach him.

Red Vulture was already dead; if this scout had investigated too deeply, he might not have been able to return to report.

A trace of sullen ferocity flashed between the brows of the black-cloaked youth.

He felt an impulse to lead troops back, drag out those bandits who dared offend his Wujiu Tribe, and cut their throats one by one, bleeding them dry.

He would never allow anyone to defy his Wujiu Tribe.

But this impulse was forcibly suppressed by him.

Those who would accomplish great things must not rage, must not act on impulse.

At this moment, he still had grand ambitions to realize and could not let himself be hampered by petty nobodies.

Moreover...