Loading chapter...
Chapter 1383: Dao Fire
In the 20,048th year of the Dao Calendar, the Dao Court was defeated.
The Strange Dao manifested in the world, darkness descended, and strange flames burned across the sky, blotting out the sunlight.
The Endless Abyss, which had lain silent for countless tens of thousands of years, broke through its ancient seals and spread forth from the depths of the Ancestral Court, devouring the entire Great Wilderness Royal Court.
Upon the land, countless ferocious strange slaves crawled out from the Endless Abyss. Like a plague-bearing calamity, they slaughtered and transformed all living beings.
The entire Great Wilderness fell into utter chaos.
With the abyss spreading, strange slaves devouring people, and the prior famine and warfare...
Countless fates were thus cast into even greater turmoil and harsher trials.
And this chaos soon spread to the Desolate Wilderness, into the very foundation that Mo Hua had once, as a Divine-Shaman, painstakingly unified and established.
The Desolate Wilderness.
After Mo Hua, who himself was the Divine-Shaman, departed, the land fell into prolonged internal strife and external threats.
Internally, tribes continuously split apart over struggles for power.
Externally, the Black Toad Tribe, the BiFang Tribe, and remnants of other tribes caused constant disturbances and rebellions.
Dan-Zhu maintained unity within, while Lu-Gu waged wars outward, eliminating the remnants.
This situation persisted... until true darkness descended.
A strange slave appeared near a tribe called Nian-Luo.
In a single night, the entire Nian-Luo Tribe was annihilated, reduced to neither human nor ghost, becoming eerie creatures that wandered about, spreading the plague of the Strange Dao deeper into the Desolate Wilderness.
A massive crisis loomed over the land.
As disaster approached, it did not take long for Dan-Zhu and the others to notice the anomaly.
The Endless Abyss had yet to truly spread here, and the surrounding lands were still encircled by famine; thus, they had little understanding of the outside world.
But they could see the dense darkness at the horizon clearly.
Dan-Zhu immediately recalled the prophecy the Divine-Shaman had once spoken of: The “Age of Darkness.” His heart turned ice-cold, and he at once ordered all tribes of the Desolate Wilderness and the Divine Slave Tribes to cease all external warfare and withdraw into defensive positions.
At first, the people of the Desolate Wilderness thought these strange slaves were merely ordinary corpse-slaves, just more infectious and troublesome.
Dan-Zhu’s drastic measures left them confused.
But as the calamity of the Strange Dao spread rapidly, they soon understood.
This was a horrifying corpse disaster unlike anything ever encountered in the history of the Great Wilderness.
These “strange slaves” were not mere zombies, nor puppets raised by demonic cultivators. Rather, they were more like… servants of some terrifying evil god, spreading malevolent intent across heaven and earth, annihilating all living beings.
This was the true terror.
After famine and war, the heavens had now bestowed upon the Desolate Wilderness its final calamity.
Unwillingness and despair began to spread through the hearts of its people.
Through the long years of enduring both internal and external crises, barely holding on, utterly exhausted in mind and spirit, even Dan-Zhu’s gaze dimmed.
Yet he forced himself onward, leading the tribes to resist the immensely difficult calamity of the Strange Dao.
He ordered all tribes to rely on the Profound-Earth Grand Formation for survival, using cliffs, mountain walls, trenches, and sacred patterns as barriers to isolate the strange slaves.
But how could they fight them... especially this invisible yet deadly infection?
Even Dan-Zhu was at a loss.
He could only tirelessly pore over the array diagrams, handwritten notes, and ancient texts left behind by the Divine-Shaman, searching for any clue to resist the calamity of strange thoughts.
The Divine-Shaman was one blessed by the Divine-Lord, the benefactor of the entire Desolate Wilderness, possessing supreme power and unfathomable attainment in the Divine Dao.
Heaven had bestowed unparalleled disaster upon the Great Wilderness.
But it had also bestowed the Divine-Shaman.
To resist disaster, one had to seek guidance from the Divine-Shaman’s teachings.
And Mo Hua had indeed left behind a great deal of inheritance.
Among these were portions of Divine Dao array patterns, the Four Symbols Azure Dragon Formation, teachings of the Dao Heart, methods of cultivating the mind and consolidating spirit, and studies of the Divine Dao…
These formed the foundation of his Divine-Sense enlightenment, the insights of his Divine-Sense Dao transformation.
Included within were methods for slaying evil entities, as well as his lifelong comprehension and research into both the Divine Dao and the Strange Dao.
During his years in the Desolate Wilderness, Mo Hua had played the game of Chess with his Martial Uncle. Under the immense pressure of his opponent, he had been forced to treat his Martial Uncle as a hypothetical enemy, devising and cataloging numerous methods to counter “strange thoughts,” in preparation for unforeseen circumstances.
These were contingency manuscripts left behind by Mo Hua, unused by him, yet they became the true lifeline of the Desolate Wilderness.
Day and night, sparing no effort, Dan-Zhu studied every word of these manuscripts, searching for any means to resist strange thoughts and save the people from the apocalypse.
Having long followed Mo Hua, immersed in his teachings, Dan-Zhu was the one who understood Mo Hua’s Dao the best in the entire Desolate Wilderness, and was also the disciple Mo Hua valued most.
Under immense pressure, Dan-Zhu truly grasped various Divine Dao methods and techniques from these manuscripts to combat and prevent the terrifying strange thoughts.
This was an extremely arduous journey.
Under the oppression of the Strange Dao, Dan-Zhu struggled day by day, doing everything in his power to resolve the crises facing the Desolate Wilderness, seeking even the slightest chance of survival.
Yet the people continued to fall—one after another—infected by strange thoughts and losing their lives.
Among them were members of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe and comrades who had once fought alongside him.
Before cruel fate, all beings were equal.
Dan-Zhu’s heart suffered deeply, yet he could not give up. He could only endure the pain and continue struggling.
At last, one day... Dan-Zhu himself was infected.
He did not know how it had happened.
Perhaps while slaying strange slaves, perhaps while tending to the wounded, or perhaps simply by seeing, hearing, or touching something unknowingly.
But he knew... the seed of strange thoughts had already taken root within his heart.
He could hear the whispers of demons; his desires began to grow uncontrollably.
His eyes turned ashen, and dark veins occasionally surfaced on his face.
Perhaps because the current calamity consisted only of rampant strange slaves, without the true body of the Strange Dao.
Or perhaps because the Strange Daoist had entered the Profound-Hollow-Void realm, causing the “toxicity” of strange thoughts to become more varied.
This poison was no longer immediately violent.
It would lurk, lie dormant, seep into the human heart, transform a person into a monster, and only then erupt.
Dan-Zhu was exactly such a case.
He had no idea when these strange thoughts had parasitized him, nor how long they had lain dormant.
When he realized it, his heart turned ice-cold, but there was also a trace of relief.
Since the disappearance of the Divine-Shaman, through these long years of torment, he had borne too much pressure alone.
He was too tired.
To die within strange thoughts… might even be a form of release.
But he was unwilling to die just like that.
His status was high, his responsibilities immense, his death would throw the people into panic.
Moreover, his Dao Heart was resolute and his will strong; if he were transformed into a strange slave, the harm he could cause would be even greater.
So Dan-Zhu preserved the Divine-Shaman’s manuscripts, recording all his own studies and annotations.
He arranged everything for the future of the Desolate Wilderness.
Then, he went to the ancient altar of Vermilion Bird Mountain.
This was the place where the Divine-Shaman had once “conferred divinity,” and also the place where he was said to have disappeared.
After arriving, Dan-Zhu handed the Vermilion Bird Divine Bow to Lu-Gu and said:
“I have been infected by strange thoughts. I will enter the altar to confess my sins to the Divine-Shaman.”
“If I can no longer suppress the evil thoughts within me, lose my sanity, and become a strange-slave... use this Vermilion Bird Bow to destroy my body, then ignite the Vermilion Bird Divine Flame of the altar to burn away my divine sense. Let my body and soul be completely annihilated, do not let me bring calamity upon the Great Wilderness.”
Lu-Gu took the bow, his expression somber.
A veteran of countless battles, he had long seen life and death as trivial, but toward Dan-Zhu, he still held admiration, even respect.
In the entire Desolate Wilderness, the one he least wished to kill… was Dan-Zhu.
Back then, he had even harbored killing intent toward Mo Hua, yet could not bring himself to kill Dan-Zhu.
But now, with the apocalypse upon them, under the turmoil of darkness, everyone’s fate might already be sealed.
Lu-Gu knew that before long, he too would likely face death, Dan-Zhu was merely going ahead of him.
He nodded.
“Fine. I will kill you. Walk slower on the road to the Yellow Springs, perhaps before long, I’ll die too and catch up with you.”
They had once fought side by side under the Divine-Shaman; their bond ran deep.
Dan-Zhu smiled faintly, with a hint of bitterness.
Then he said nothing more and ascended the altar alone.
Upon the altar, the majesty of the Divine Dao still remained, scorching the soul and causing unbearable pain.
But Dan-Zhu no longer cared. In fact, the pain helped keep him clear-headed.
He walked before the altar, knelt beneath the Vermilion Bird statue, and memories flowed through his heart like water.
At the same time, those strange thoughts were like maggots, gnawing away at his memories and corroding his Dao-heart.
The blackness on Dan-Zhu’s face grew ever deeper.
Pitch-black strange thoughts seeped, little by little, into his Dao-heart.
Exhausted to the brink, Dan-Zhu calmly accepted all of this, ready to welcome his death. Yet in the haze, he suddenly seemed to hear someone calling his name.
Dan-Zhu opened his eyes and saw a figure he had longed for day and night, yet one that had already vanished.
“Teacher…”
Dan-Zhu murmured.
“Mo Hua” smiled gently.
“Sir…” Dan-Zhu said dejectedly, “I have failed your expectations.”
Mo Hua continued to look at Dan-Zhu gently, saying nothing, until his figure gradually faded and disappeared once more from Dan-Zhu’s sight.
A vast sense of loss and pain filled Dan-Zhu’s heart.
He was too tired. The suffering of the Desolate Wilderness was too great, scattering too much of his energy and draining his spirit.
There were still many questions in his heart, yet no one remained who could answer them.
He could only, again and again, recall what Mo Hua had once told him, searching within those words for his own answers.
“A cultivator’s life must ultimately be guided by one’s own Dao-heart, by one’s own faith.”
“There are many things I cannot decide for you.”
“I may not always remain in the Great Wilderness…”
“The fate of the Great Wilderness can only rely on you yourself.”
Dan-Zhu’s heart gradually calmed.
Sir had long foreseen all of this.
Not only the war... perhaps even this terrifying calamity of the Strange Dao, had been within Sir’s foresight.
But Sir could only go this far. His descent into the Great Wilderness had already helped the Desolate Wilderness far too much. He could not continue helping forever.
From here on, they could only rely on themselves.
Dan-Zhu murmured, repeating, “A cultivator’s life must ultimately be guided by one’s own Dao-heart…”
“No matter when, it is always the same. Everything before me is also a test of my Dao-heart.”
“This kind of trial, no one can help me through it. Not even Sir. He can give me teachings and enlightenment, but he cannot bear the trial in my place.”
“All hardships must still be overcome by myself. All tempering must be endured by myself. Even if it is a sea of blades and flames, I must withstand it on my own.”
“Only the Dao-heart forged through my own trials is truly mine…”
In his daze, Dan-Zhu seemed to see Mo Hua’s refined face smiling at him, his gaze gentle and filled with approval.
Dan-Zhu felt his heart suddenly open and clear.
He no longer felt suffering, nor fatigue. His anxiety and despair vanished. Instead, he opened his heart calmly, allowing the strange thoughts to erode his Dao-heart, letting countless worldly desires flood into his mind.
These strange thoughts, these desires, devoured Dan-Zhu’s heart.
Yet he did not resist. He only kept Mo Hua’s teachings in mind, even actively using these wicked thoughts and desires to temper his Dao-heart.
A cultivator’s life ultimately lives for nothing but a single Dao-heart.
Uphold one’s own heart, seek one’s own Dao, beyond that, nothing else exists.
Joy, anger, sorrow, fear... countless torments are but passing clouds.
Even life and death can be cast aside.
So what if he is tainted by strange thoughts? If his body dies and his Dao vanishes, what is there to fear?
“I must never fail Sir’s expectations, nor the trust of the Great Wilderness…”
“I will save the people of the Desolate Wilderness from suffering and flames, even if I must face endless darkness and despair, even if I am shattered to pieces, tearing out my heart and spilling my blood.”
“So long as this heart endures, this Dao endures…”
Dan-Zhu’s heart seemed to enrage the strange thoughts... or perhaps it was precisely such a resolute, powerful, and pure heart that drove those strange thoughts into a frenzy of craving.
Darkness surged. Pitch-black strange flames spread rapidly from within, completely engulfing Dan-Zhu.
Kneeling upon the altar, his gaze devout, he allowed the strange flames to consume his body while countless desires surged, yet he remained unmoving.
As the flames of darkness devoured him, a vivid crimson color unexpectedly emerged from his chest.
That Vermilion Bird Heart, tempered through the calamity of dark flames, began to transform little by little.
After a long ordeal, Dan-Zhu’s heart turned entirely crimson. The strange thoughts within him still remained, yet they could no longer taint his heart in the slightest.
Dan-Zhu stood stunned for a moment, then could not help but softly murmur:
“Sir…”
Then he took a deep breath, as though boundless courage now filled his chest.
He slowly rose to his feet, lifted his head to glance once at the statue of the Divine-Shaman, his eyes filled with remembrance, then turned and left, step by step descending from the Vermilion Bird altar.
Lu-Gu, who had been drawing his bow to shoot Dan-Zhu, saw this and his pupils shrank in shock. “You…”
Dan-Zhu’s gaze was resolute. “Sir’s teachings were right…”
“Only with a steadfast Dao-heart—selfless, without ego, without desire, without fear—can one restrain wicked thoughts and desires, survive within endless darkness, and in despair… save the countless lives of the Desolate Wilderness.”
Lu-Gu’s heart trembled. Then he let out a deep breath, as if he too had found an anchor in the darkness, a possibility to keep living.
Lu-Gu bent and knelt on one knee, respectfully saluting the statue of the Divine-Shaman upon the altar, saying devoutly:
“We will remember the teachings of the Divine-Shaman, my lord!”
“Uphold our faith, selfless and fearless, and save the people of the Desolate Wilderness from suffering and flames.”
Behind Lu-Gu, the leaders of the various tribes also knelt toward the statue, declaring firmly:
“We, the barbarian cultivators, will faithfully follow the teachings of the Divine-Shaman!”
“Uphold our faith, unwavering in resolve, selfless and without desire, and save the people of the Desolate Wilderness from suffering and flames!”
Clusters of faith’s embers ignited within their eyes.
In this era of the Strange Dao, filled with endless darkness and upheaval, the divine fire-seed left behind by Mo Hua began to ignite, and spread from one to another…
Any selfishness, stray thought, or desire within a person’s heart would become an offering to the dark Strange Dao.
Only unwavering faith and a pure Dao-heart were the flames within the darkness, allowing one to endure the long night.
And as the Endless Abyss spread, the Desolate Wilderness—once isolated by the famine—became the final “land of survivors.”
More and more survivors gathered toward the Desolate Wilderness.
...
At the borders of the Desolate Wilderness.
As the light of the Profound-Earth Grand Formation lit up, a path was carved through the famine’s mist.
A long procession, led by a frail barbarian slave, stepped into the Desolate Wilderness.
This slave seemed protected by the gods. Though not tall and not strong, he held great prestige among his people.
In his hand, he carried a thin formation manual.
He treasured this book as if it were priceless, always keeping it close, studying it whenever he had time, as though it were more important than his own life.
This young barbarian slave was none other than Huai-Nu.
Before, he had no idea who had given him that book.
Only now, upon entering the Desolate Wilderness, in the first tribe he encountered, did he see a statue standing in the central square... and hear others reverently address it as “Divine-Shaman, my lord.”
Huai-Nu stood frozen in place, excitement and shock surging within his chest.
“Divine-Shaman…”
...
Elsewhere in the Desolate Wilderness.
Within a tribe situated in treacherous terrain.
Feng Zichen of the Qianxue Prefecture, Shi Tiangang, Ao Zheng, and a dozen other genius disciples had been captured by a large group of barbarian cultivators, bound together, their faces ashen.
The Strange Dao was cruel, and fate was equally ruthless.
Even for them, as prodigies, there was little room to resist in the face of such a great calamity.
The Endless abyss surged, the Strange Dao spread, and the entire Great Wilderness fell into chaos. Move even a step too slow, and one would die without a whole corpse.
Amid the turmoil, they became separated from the Dao Court’s army. In their panic, they fled blindly into a region of spreading poisonous marshes, only to be captured by groups of barbarian cultivators moving like an army.
Ao Zheng sneered, “Run? With the Great Wilderness in such chaos, where could you possibly run?”
The Endless Abyss, Strange Slaves, famine, deadly terrains, barbarian cultivators…
Surrounded by such dangers, they had no chance of escape.
Someone said, “Stop arguing. Think of a way to save ourselves.”
“How? We don’t even know where we are in the Great Wilderness. Dangerous mountains and toxic swamps are everywhere. And these barbarian soldiers—wearing barbarian armor, filled with killing intent—they’re clearly elites, no weaker than the Royal troops of the Great Wilderness…”
“The leading barbarian general is at late Golden Core stage. His aura is terrifying, and he cultivates poison arts, ruthless and vicious…”
Someone frowned. “Wasn’t the Great Wilderness Royal Court already destroyed? Where did these barbarian soldiers and generals come from?”
“Are there still remnants?”
“Won’t these remnants kill us... and then eat us?”
“Isn’t that obvious? The Great Wilderness and the Dao Court share a blood-deep enmity. If they capture us, they’ll skin us, tear out our tendons, then eat our flesh and drink our blood…”
Everyone’s faces turned pale, sorrow rising in their hearts as they lamented their ill fate.
Not long ago, they had just formed their Golden Cores at Dragon Pool, ready to realize their ambitions and compete for the Great Dao’s opportunities.
Yet overnight, catastrophe struck. A great calamity descended, and the entire Great Wilderness fell into chaos.
Drifting and displaced, they encountered this great barbarian army.
All of them had only just formed their Golden Cores, their cultivation lacked refinement, their magical treasures were not yet mastered, and their Dao arts not yet learned. They were no match for these elite barbarian forces. Combined with the toxic marshlands and treacherous terrain, after days of struggling to flee, they were quickly reduced to prisoners.
They might even become ghosts beneath the blade.
Fate was ever-changing. The Heavenly Dao, toward cultivators, was truly… too cruel.
“Are we really… going to die in the Great Wilderness…” Feng Zichen felt bitter. “No one is coming to save us…”
Ao Zheng said, “This is the Great Wilderness, not our clans. We don’t know a single person here, who would come save us?”
Shi Tiangang, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly said, “Not necessarily.”
Everyone was startled.
Shi Tiangang lifted his chin, gesturing toward the tribal plaza. “Look over there.”
The crowd was stunned and followed his gaze, only to see that within this powerful tribe stood a statue being worshipped.
The statue depicted a youth, with flawless features, standing lofty and untouchable, exuding an inviolable majesty.
At this moment, a group of barbarians were bowing in worship before the statue.
Even that vicious and terrifying late–stage Golden Core barbarian general was paying respects to it, his face filled with reverence and piety.
Though the aura was different, Feng Zichen and the others gradually recognized the face of the statue.
An indescribable, utterly absurd shock filled everyone’s hearts.
“No… no way…”
This is… Mo Hua?!
A barbarian general… is worshipping Mo Hua?!!
...
In the deepest darkness.
Within the Endless Abyss, in the Ruins of Return (Gui-Xu).
(TN: 归墟 (guī xū) → Returning Void/Ruin of Return/Abyss of Return)
The “Strange Daoist,” who controlled the darkness, seemed to have sensed something as well. Within the boundless spreading dark and baleful flames across the Great Wilderness, tiny sparks of Divine Dao fire had begun to flicker.
These sparks were still very weak, like scattered embers in an ocean of darkness, yet they seemed remarkably resilient.
A hint of surprise surfaced on the Strange Daoist’s indifferent face.
“To reach such a level at the Foundation Establishment stage, laying out a scheme like this…”
The corners of his lips curled slightly into a faint smile.
But these tiny sparks of Divine Dao fire were not worth much concern for now, at most, they would only delay things a little.
The Strange Daoist turned and looked toward the entire Strange Dao Grand Formation.
At this moment, the formation was operating with overwhelming, heaven-shaking momentum.
The Yang Clan Ancestor had already fallen and been refined by the Strange Daoist.
The Military Dharma Aspect Manifestation was also being infiltrated by black, strange runes, gradually transforming into a demonic military Manifestation that sustained the operation of the formation.
Aside from that, there were still six Profound-Hollow-Void ancestors struggling to hold on.
They were being refined by the Strange Daoist, while also doing everything in their power to protect their origin and resist his refinement.
Among the six, the strongest in cultivation and the slowest to be transformed was the Huá Clan Ancestor.
The Strange Daoist looked at him, his voice cold and hoarse, tinged with a trace of surprise. “Your Dao Heart is unexpectedly stubborn, I can’t even refine it…”
Ancestor Huá’s gaze was icy. “Abomination.”
The Strange Daoist didn’t mind, only letting out a sinister laugh. “One day, your Dao Heart will shatter, your origin will become nourishment, and your lifelong cultivation will fall into my hands.”
Ancestor Huá’s eyes were cold. “Don’t let this old man find a chance to escape. Otherwise, I will surely cut you down and scatter your soul.”
The Strange Daoist neither confirmed nor denied it.
Ancestor Huá closed his eyes again, guarding his inner self, preventing his origin from leaking out, and said nothing more.
The stalemate over their origins continued.
If a Profound-Hollow-Void ancestor severed the seven senses and steadfastly guarded their Dao Heart and origin, then no matter how powerful the Strange Dao was, it could not fully infiltrate them in a short time.
This would be a long and grueling deadlock.
The Strange Daoist understood this as well, he could not refine Ancestor Huá anytime soon. Fortunately, he had laid his plans over a long period. He had plenty of time.
After that, no one spoke again.
The entire abyss fell into a deep, deathly silence.
But after an unknown amount of time, as Ancestor Huá was steadfastly guarding his Dao Heart, he suddenly heard a strange laugh.
“Hehe…”
The sound was like a child’s laughter, echoing from the depths of his own heart.
Ancestor Huá had no choice but to open his eyes, only to see a pitch-black, sinister infant. Its face was eerily familiar, its body burning with baleful flames, and its strange yet innocent eyes were staring straight at him.
Ancestor Huá’s heart trembled.
(End of Chapter)