Chapter 1155: Crimson Sun
The great tiger shifted between black and white hues as it carried Mo Hua on its back, charging into the night.
Inside the Great Wilderness Sect's camp—Young Master Tuoba lay on the ground, blood gushing from his chest.
Several nearby Golden Core elders quickly took out medicinal pills and spiritual liquids to stop the bleeding and treat his injuries. At the same time, they felt lingering fear—if it hadn't been for the Heartguard Mirror bestowed by the Sect Master, that ferocious tiger demon might've truly crippled Young Master Tuoba.
Moments later, the bleeding stopped, though the wound continued to sting and burn painfully.
But that physical pain was nothing compared to the jealousy, hatred, and humiliation boiling in Tuoba's heart.
He was a prince of the Great Wilderness royal line. He had gone through painstaking effort, endless training, suppression, and torment trying to tame that very tiger beast. And yet, right before his eyes, the creature had willingly lowered its proud head to someone else, submitting and offering itself as a mount!
This was worse than death.
"This grudge is one of blood and fire—irreconcilable under heaven!" Tuoba ground his teeth and shouted, "Quick! Pass down my command! Block off every route! Kill that brat surnamed Mo! And bring the tiger beast back to me!"
"Yes, Young Master!"
The Golden Core elders all cupped their hands in acknowledgment.
They knew this was no trivial matter.
Black-and-white demonic aura—extremely rare. That striped tiger was clearly an extraordinary breed, a rare gem among king-beasts.
Only a beast of such caliber could be worthy of the Young Master's status.
And what's more, its aura was mighty and its strength astonishing. Now, even at the second rank, it was already so formidable. If it advanced to third rank and formed a proper demon core, its power would skyrocket. By then, taming it would be even harder.
As for that youth… who was he?
His cultivation was average, his bloodline unremarkable. So how did he manage to make such a wild king-beast lower its head and willingly submit?
No chains, no saddle, no formations—no suppression or bindings at all.
And yet the tiger bowed of its own accord. Unthinkable.
Demonic beasts devoured humans by nature—their bloodlust hard to erase.
Normally, they couldn't truly be "tamed."
What most called taming was merely brute suppression—using bloodlines and brute strength to force submission.
Once that suppression failed, the beast would surely devour its master.
Hence, taming a beast typically required saddles, demon-locks, beast-suppressing arrays, and other tools to keep it in check.
Without those, not even an ordinary beast would submit—let alone a king among beasts like this tiger.
Thus, the youth who made such a creature kneel was beyond uncanny.
Could it be… he wasn't human?
This unsettling thought crept into the hearts of every Great Wilderness cultivator.
But there was no time to ponder.
The immediate priority was to intercept the tiger.
That youth—must die!
And the black-and-white tiger—must be taken back!
The Golden Core elders of the Great Wilderness Sect immediately issued a command under the authority of the Great Wilderness Token:
"All stationed disciples—seal off the front lines and block a youth riding a black-and-white tiger demon!"
"Deploy battle formations—intercept the beast, capture the boy. Kill him if he resists!"
The orders echoed through the camps, and the Great Wilderness formation shifted.
Most of the sect's cultivators remained locked in battle with the Dao Court.
But a segment of reserves began turning their attention—toward encircling Mo Hua.
Even though it was only a fraction, the number of cultivators involved was still considerable.
Before long, Mo Hua, riding on the great tiger's back, began to feel the mounting pressure.
The tiger's innate ability allowed it to emit black-and-white demonic qi, shifting its fur color accordingly. It could obscure its aura, hide its killing intent, and greatly boost its speed—whether for ambush, slaughter, or escape, it was formidable.
It was Mo Hua's first time seeing this talent in action.
However, the effect didn't last long. Once they left the camp and shook off immediate pursuers, the tiger's colors returned to normal.
It could only continue as usual—carrying Mo Hua and breaking through the Great Wilderness frontlines.
But breaking through was no easy feat.
Mo Hua had barely made it in stealthily before, and that was already a perilous trip.
Now with a giant, eye-catching tiger charging through enemy territory on a return path—danger loomed at every step.
The only good news: no Nascent Souls had arrived.
The Great Wilderness Sect's Nascent Soul cultivators were likely entangled with their Dao Court counterparts and hadn't joined the chase.
Young Master Tuoba, though injured, was not in mortal danger.
And the Nascent Souls of the sect weren't going to abandon the larger war just to kill a "little shrimp" like Mo Hua.
Still, more and more Great Wilderness cultivators were now mobilizing to hunt him down.
Among them were scattered Golden Cores, but mostly Foundation Establishment disciples.
The Golden Cores weren't a huge threat for now. The battlefield was vast and chaotic, with Golden Cores spread thin across units in combat with the Dao Court.
So after breaking through, Mo Hua didn't encounter many of them.
Instead, it was the numerous Foundation Establishment disciples—organized into formations—that proved most troublesome.
These disciples had been trained in the style of "Dao Soldiers."
Originally, they were meant to follow the Dao Soldier Division and aid in the suppression of the Great Wilderness rebellion.
Their armor, spiritual weapons, formation coordination, tactical maneuvers—everything was done to military standards.
Once deployed as Dao Soldiers, these highly trained Foundation Establishment cultivators could be even harder to deal with than Golden Cores.
Mo Hua, bound by the Curse of Calamity, couldn't kill.
And though the tiger was powerful, it couldn't possibly slaughter that many opponents alone.
So Mo Hua had no choice but to guide the tiger—dodging, evading encirclements and ambushes.
The situation was… not ideal.
He had long understood the strength of the Dao Soldier system—how it could allow weaker forces to defeat the strong.
During the recent Sword Debate, the Great Void Sect had also gained the upper hand early on by deploying their prototype "Elite Dao Soldiers."
But it was only now, being hunted down by Great Wilderness disciples using Dao Soldier tactics, that Mo Hua truly felt the might of this military system.
Grouped together in battle formation, the disciples of the Great Wilderness Sect forced Mo Hua and the tiger into constant flight, narrowly avoiding deadly traps.
Mo Hua could only delay and disrupt them with spells and arrays.
Beyond that, survival depended on the tiger—slashing open paths with fang and claw, ripping through enemy lines.
Fortunately, the beast was a peak second-rank tiger demon—top-tier among its kind. Even without using its strange innate ability, it could sprint with terrifying speed.
Thus, man and beast weaved through blades, spears, and arrow storms—desperately carving a path through danger.
At last—after who knows how many rounds of bloody skirmishes—Mo Hua finally lost his pursuers for a moment and saw a ravine ahead.
Across the gorge—a cliff wall.
And beyond that—was the Dao Soldier Division's camp.
If he could cross the ravine and leap the cliff, he would completely escape the Great Wilderness pursuit.
Mo Hua didn't hesitate—he patted the tiger's neck.
The tiger understood at once and turned into a gust of wind, charging straight toward the opposite end of the gorge.
But the moment they entered the canyon—ten cultivators suddenly stepped out from the side.
Each wore beast-engraved gold-patterned armor—heavy, refined, their aura deep and solid. All ten were peak Foundation Establishment.
Clearly elite disciples, handpicked from thousands within the sect.
Perhaps even this generation's so-called prodigies.
They formed a line, blocking the tiger's path. Heavy shields were raised—completely sealing the road ahead.
Ten prodigies, attacking as one—their killing intent blazed like a rainbow piercing the sun.
Mo Hua's expression turned icy.
The great tiger was enraged—its fur bristling in the wind, black-and-white demonic qi erupting across its body.
With a furious roar—it charged into the enemy line.
The ten prodigies of the Great Wilderness and Mo Hua's one-man-one-beast duo collided in a whirlwind of slaughter.
In just a few breaths, blood-scented tiger claws slashed across heavy armor and shields—sending sparks flying and leaving deep gouges.
Demonic qi and blood surged. Neither side held back—fighting with ferocity.
But Mo Hua knew—he couldn't afford to be stalled.
If they got pinned here—the consequences would be unimaginable.
He had to break through! Quickly!
In a flash of lightning and fire—They had already exchanged a hundred blows.
Mo Hua cast Quicksand Technique, sinking the earth beneath two heavily armored Great Wilderness prodigies, temporarily trapping them. At the same time, he unleashed Golden Light Technique, Fireball Technique, Water Prison Technique, and several other spells to restrain the surrounding enemies.
Taking that chance, the great tiger gathered strength in its hind legs and stomped down—crack! The ground split open.
Like a cannonball, it shot forward through the weak point in the encirclement, bursting past the ten Great Wilderness prodigies.
The ten could only watch helplessly as the tiger demon fled.
But just then, one among them—clearly taller, more muscular than the rest—suddenly erupted in strength. His muscles bulged, blood-red barbaric patterns surfaced on his skin, and he broke free of Mo Hua's Water Prison with a roar. With a few massive strides, he lunged ahead and blocked the tiger's path.
He was a towering young man.
His armor had been shattered, exposing a torso crisscrossed with brutal, savage scars.
And now, this youth stood right in front of the tiger.
The great tiger showed no mercy—swiping down with a claw to kill.
But the youth neither dodged nor retreated. His body, like iron, withstood the strike. The claw dug deep into his shoulder, leaving a vicious wound.
Yet the youth gritted his teeth, ignored the pain, and with monstrous brute force, wrapped both arms around the tiger's forelimb, locking it in place.
Man and beast wrestled in sheer physical strength—for a brief instant, they were evenly matched.
Though he wasn't truly the tiger's equal, just managing to endure even for a moment spoke volumes of his savagery.
Mo Hua's heart trembled slightly.
Such overwhelming strength!
But no one—no one—was allowed to block his path!
His eyes turned cold, and he raised his fingers, preparing to cripple this obstructing youth.
But just as he looked up—he froze.
In the cold moonlight, the youth's face came into full view—a long scar stretched from his left cheek down to his right jaw.
That fierce, grim face once carried a brightness, a warmth.
Now, his gaze was steady and resolute, but also violent and cruel, wild and unrecognizable.
Mo Hua muttered in disbelief, "Da Hu...?"
The youth flinched as if struck by lightning. He raised his head and looked at the boy riding the tiger—and recognized that familiar, once-dear face.
This was a friend he'd spent days and nights beside… yet had gradually forgotten.
Countless memories surged back into his mind.
The ferocity on his face faded, replaced by pain… and sorrow.
Just then, a shout came from the distance:
"Meng Bohu! That's the person the Young Master wants—stop him at all costs!"
Meng Bohu's expression twisted in agony. He stared deeply at Mo Hua, then slowly loosened his grip, stepping aside.
Letting the tiger and Mo Hua pass.
"Da Hu!" Mo Hua called out.
But the youth lowered his head, refusing to look back.
The tiger didn't hesitate. It leapt forward, crossed the gorge, and—like flying over flat land—bounded across the cliff edge, fleeing into the distance.
Mo Hua turned back—only to see the youth's broad back.
He stood there, unmoving.
His burly silhouette, under the cold moonlight, cast a long, heavy shadow.
He never turned back to glance at Mo Hua again…
And as the tiger galloped farther and farther away, that once-so-familiar—now-so-strange—back slowly faded from view.
After Mo Hua and the tiger left—
The tall youth remained, standing alone.
The other Great Wilderness prodigies rushed over, but Mo Hua and the tiger were long gone. They turned on the youth.
"Meng Bohu, why did you let go?!"
"That was the Young Master's command! You should've obeyed even at the cost of your life!"
"Even if you had to die—you should've left that tiger behind and killed the brat on its back!"
The tall youth called Meng Bohu had red-rimmed eyes, but he forced his emotions down.
Still, the others didn't relent.
"You come from a humble background. It was only because the Young Master favored you that you even got this opportunity."
"The name 'Meng Bohu' was a gift from the Young Master."
"Such immense grace—you should be willing to die ten thousand deaths to repay it."
"But what did you do just now? Were you cowering in fear?"
"Say something! Why aren't you talking?"
"Are you mute?"
"Truly a lowborn rogue. No matter how much the Young Master tries to elevate you, you'll always be a crude animal not fit for the stage—"
Bang!
A dull, explosive sound rang out—followed by a spray of blood.
The arrogant Great Wilderness disciple stared blankly down—only to see that Meng Bohu's iron fist had pierced clean through his chest.
He looked up—and saw Meng Bohu's scarred, savage face… and bloodshot, bestial eyes.
Vicious energy surged from the fist, twisting and destroying his organs.
He opened his mouth to scream—but before a sound came out, Meng Bohu's left hand snapped his neck.
Dead.
The crowd erupted in shock.
"Meng Bohu! Are you insane?!"
"That's a member of the Hu clan! Do you know what you've done?!"
Another disciple from the Hu family immediately drew a golden blade, roaring:
"Lowborn scum! Ungrateful mongrel! Today I'll cut you to pieces and avenge my cousin!"
He charged at Meng Bohu with killing intent blazing.
But the moment they clashed—he realized with horror: he was no match.
This rogue from humble origins—scorned by the sect—fought like a wild beast.
Not even a hundred rounds later, Meng Bohu snapped his head off too.
Now panicked and furious, the remaining disciples drew their spiritual weapons and prototype artifacts.
"Together! Kill this mad dog!"
But Meng Bohu, after slaying two, had fully awakened his bloodlust. His eyes glowed red, body steaming with violence.
Barbaric energy coursed through him—twisting his muscles unnaturally, making them bulge grotesquely.
Whatever technique he practiced, it made his strength tyrannical to a terrifying degree.
Facing three at once, he wasn't even at a disadvantage.
In fact—he grew fiercer with each blow. The more he fought, the more savage he became.
Swords, fists, and blades rained down on him, but he felt nothing.
He fought like a madman—every move aimed to kill.
The disciples, terrified by this disregard for life, started to falter.
And once fear set in—so did openings.
Not long after, they were killed one by one—hearts torn out, heads smashed, bodies shattered.
In the end—of the ten Great Wilderness prodigies—only four remained.
Meng Bohu, soaked in blood, turned to face them.
The four turned pale and stammered:
"Senior Meng… we—we don't wish to fight you…"
The brutal energy still surged through his veins.
His twisted face slowly calmed. He growled:
"Tonight's events…"
One disciple blurted, "We don't know anything!"
Meng Bohu's bloodshot eyes slowly cleared. He pointed at them—then at the corpses.
"Each of you, stab these bodies. Then swear a Heaven's Oath—you'll speak nothing of what happened tonight."
The remaining four, terrified by his brutality, obeyed. Each plunged a blade into a corpse.
This way, even if they tried to report him, the wounds would be incriminating.
After it was done, Meng Bohu ordered them to toss the corpses off the cliff, and said coldly:
"Forget everything. Return and give your report."
"Say we got separated. Say we ran into Dao Soldiers and had a skirmish."
"We never saw the tiger. We don't know what happened to the others."
The four nodded hastily, pale-faced.
"Yes, Senior Meng."
Meng Bohu gave a slow nod. "Go."
They left one by one.
He was the last to go—and before he turned away, he couldn't help but glance toward the direction Mo Hua had vanished.
That feral face flickered with nostalgia… and sorrow.
Then his expression hardened—emotion faded, as though everything in him had died.
...
On the other side, Mo Hua was still fleeing.
Though he was deeply concerned about Da Hu, he had no time to dwell on it—a far more troublesome situation was unfolding before him.
He was still being hunted.
Previously, it was within the Great Wilderness Sect's territory.
Now, even after breaking free of their encirclement and entering the Dao Court's main army zone, he was still not safe—in fact, the pursuit continued, relentless as ever.
His earlier fears had, indeed, come true.
The Great Wilderness Sect wanted to kill him and capture the tiger.
But the Dao Court soldiers wanted to kill the tiger.
After all, the tiger demon was a royal beast of the Great Wilderness.
Now that the sect had mutinied and chaos spread, a tiger demon revealing itself amidst the war… the Dao soldiers were unlikely to show any mercy.
This left Mo Hua in a dilemma with no good options.
If this kept up, the great tiger would likely still meet its end.
Just as Mo Hua's face grew grim—the earth shook, war cries erupted, and thunderous roars rang through the land.
From the distance came waves of savage warriors, surging like a tide.
Among them flew the banners of the Great Wilderness nobility.
"That's... savage troops?!"
Mo Hua's expression changed drastically.
In that moment, he realized—The Great Wilderness Sect's rebellion was only the opening act.
No matter how powerful the sect was, it couldn't compare to the Dao Court.
Their mutiny wasn't about winning—it was meant to sow chaos in the Dao Court's rear lines. A diversion.
And now, as Dao soldiers clashed with the rebel sect, the long-hidden savage army made their move.
They charged from behind—forming a pincer assault—aimed at delivering a heavy blow to the Dao Court army.
This situation… was dangerous to the extreme.
But Mo Hua couldn't worry about all that anymore.
With both the Dao Court and the Great Wilderness forces already grinding each other into dust, he and the tiger were at their limits.
Now, the savage warriors were flooding in as a third force—turning the battlefield into absolute chaos, flesh and blood flying everywhere.
Trying to escape with the tiger now was like asking the heavens to part seas.
He could only struggle to survive—dodging, weaving, slipping through cracks in this three-way bloodbath.
Yet amidst the chaos, Mo Hua noticed something… odd.
The Great Wilderness Sect was trying to kill him and capture the tiger.
The Dao soldiers wanted to kill the tiger.
But the savage warriors—they didn't dare show the tiger even the slightest disrespect.
Mo Hua instantly realized:
The tiger was a "royal beast" of the Great Wilderness—a symbol of the royal bloodline.
Which meant… the safest place for the tiger was actually among the savage warriors.
That was its only hope of survival.
Mo Hua was overjoyed.
He immediately tugged on the tiger's neck fur, steering it to change direction—and charged toward the savage army's ranks.
The savages were attacking northward, toward the Dao soldiers.
He and the tiger were fleeing south, heading directly against their flow.
Of course, Mo Hua didn't dare go through the front lines.
Though the tiger was a symbol of royal blood, he, the one riding its back, was a fraud—not part of their nobility.
If he ran straight into the savage nobility, he'd be exposed in an instant.
Especially since, during a passing glance earlier, he'd seen within their ranks a number of small giants—mounted royal cavalrymen.
They were dukes and marquises of the Great Wilderness, and Mo Hua definitely didn't want to mess with them.
So he steered wide, avoiding the main savage force, circling along the southwestern edge to slip through.
Ordinary savage soldiers, however, revered royal beasts.
They wouldn't dare question it—much less stop it.
And so, sticking to the edge and using the savage army's presence as cover, Mo Hua actually managed to escape the meat grinder of a battlefield—with the tiger in tow.
Behind him was an inferno of terrifying magic and brutal slaughter—Nascent Souls flying, Golden Cores clashing to the death, Foundation Establishment cultivators dying by the dozens.
Flames, spells, blood, blades, Dao soldiers, savage warriors, rogue cultivators—intertwined in a grand and gruesome hellscape.
But all of it… slowly faded behind Mo Hua.
The bloodthirst thinned.
The presence of cultivators dwindled.
The landscape widened—emptier and emptier.
Until finally, there was no one.
Nothing.
Just vast, boundless heaven and earth.
Mo Hua finally let out a long, deep breath.
He had finally escaped this ocean of blood and death.
But the tiger—still carrying him—kept running forward.
Mo Hua thought for a moment, then patted the tiger's back, trying to get it to stop.
The tiger was safe now, and Mo Hua still had a duty to return.
To rejoin the Dao Court army, stand with the Yang clan's disciples, and help crush the rebellion—seize merit and glory.
But the tiger didn't listen at all.
It had been chained for too long, forced to fight for too long—Now, finally free, it wanted only to run.
And so, carrying Mo Hua, it charged ahead on all fours—unstoppable.
As it ran, it howled joyfully: "Awooo!"
No matter how hard Mo Hua tugged at its mane—it ignored him completely.
The night faded.
The red sun rose over the Great Wilderness.
Across the boundless earth, a black-and-white tiger carried a young boy upon its back, running joyously through the glowing dawn—through endless barren sands—toward a vast and unknown horizon…
(End of this Chapter)