Chapter 1156: Walking a tiger
In the scorching sun of the Great Wilderness, atop a slope in the desolate Gobi.
(TN: 戈壁 refers to the Gobi Desert, a vast, arid region in northern China and southern Mongolia.)
Mo Hua and the big tiger were sprawled out on the ground, resting.
The initial burst of excitement had long worn off. The big tiger was now both tired and hungry. It lay belly-up, paws waving lazily in the air, then turned its head toward Mo Hua, opened its mouth, and let out a soft "mrow."
Mo Hua sighed helplessly, took out a dried fish, and tossed it into the tiger's mouth.
The big tiger licked the fish happily, utterly content.
Mo Hua, on the other hand, was feeling bitter. He lifted his head and scanned the surroundings.
Desolation everywhere. The Gobi stretched endlessly—brown earth, crimson mountain ridges, and the blazing sky overhead all blended into one vast and boundless expanse. He had no clue where he was.
"Where on earth has this dumb tiger dragged me?"
Mo Hua was completely lost.
By all logic, now that the Dao Court forces had been ambushed and the rebellion suppression had failed, it was the perfect time for him to make a name for himself and earn military merits.
But alas, plans never keep up with change.
The dumb tiger had bolted off at full speed and completely derailed his plans.
Now everything was in chaos. His ambitions for merit and glory? All down the drain.
Annoyed, Mo Hua gave the tiger's head a pat (Slap).
But he wasn't a body cultivator and had no strength behind the slap.
The big tiger thought he was just being playful. Still chewing on fish, it rubbed its head against Mo Hua's hand in response.
Mo Hua couldn't even stay mad.
At that moment, the tiger had finished its fish and opened its mouth again at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua had no choice but to toss it another.
The first fish had been savored slowly, every lick deliberate—but now, with its appetite whetted, the tiger devoured the second one in mere seconds.
And then it stared at him again, pitiful and expectant.
That's when Mo Hua realized—this couldn't go on.
This big tiger was a bottomless pit.
Though he had packed a few dozen dried fish in his Storage Ring, they weren't endless—and they were all carefully prepared by his mother, using large fish specially marinated and sun-dried. A true labor of love.
Letting this tiger gulp them down in one sitting? Unacceptable.
As for his other provisions—jerky, preserved fruit, fasting pills—those were his own emergency rations.
Feeding them to the tiger would mean going hungry himself soon enough.
And frankly, given how massive this beast was, even all that wouldn't be enough to fill it.
But there wasn't a single soul in sight—no humans, no demon beasts—where was he supposed to find food?
Mo Hua felt a headache coming on.
He never thought the day would come when feeding a tiger would be one of his greatest struggles.
But he had no choice. He couldn't just let the thing starve.
Mo Hua threw it one more fish and said, "Come on, let's go find something big enough to fill your belly."
The big tiger clamped down on the fish and—whether it understood him or not—just started walking forward.
But after a few steps, it suddenly looked back at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua blinked, not sure what it meant.
Then the tiger tilted its massive head toward its own back, signaling that Mo Hua should hop on. Bros ride together, after all.
Mo Hua hesitated.
The big tiger flopped down on the ground, as if saying: You don't ride me, I don't move.
It was clearly afraid that if it ran off again, it'd turn around and Mo Hua would be gone—again.
Only with Mo Hua riding on its back would it feel reassured.
Mo Hua sighed, ran his fingers through its mane, and climbed onto its back.
The big tiger let out a soft "awoo," then rose to its feet and began trotting forward.
…
The crimson sun blazed overhead, flooding the wilderness in a burning haze.
With no map and no way to pinpoint his location, Mo Hua had no idea where he was—no clue where the Dao Court army was, or which direction to even go.
He didn't know whether Commander Yang Jishan or Big Brother Yang Jiyong had survived the "Death Omen" and escaped the military disaster.
He didn't know what had become of the Dao Court forces, who had been betrayed by the Great Wilderness Sect and ambushed by the barbarian troops.
He didn't know what he should do next.
He didn't know how he was ever going to form his Golden Core.
Mo Hua knew nothing. Not even the divination arts could tell him now.
But at this point, there was no helping it.
All he could do was ride the big tiger and wander aimlessly through the Great Wilderness.
...
Meanwhile, in Dao Prefecture.
Central Dao Court – Heavenly Pivot Pavilion.
In the highest chamber of the pavilion, the Elder's study was now empty.
The haze of incense smoke had long dispersed.
The chessboard on the table remained stuck in a deadlocked endgame, untouched for ages.
The jade slips and documents that had once been submitted to the Elder for instruction were now rerouted to another room—the Supervising Arbiter's chamber, a more spacious office.
At this moment, the Supervising Arbiter of Heavenly Pivot Pavilion, dressed in opulent robes with a middle-aged appearance, was scanning the latest jade slips from the frontlines. His expression was dark enough to drip ink.
"Great Wilderness Sect mutiny."
"Barbarian ambush."
"The Dao Court army collapsed—its remnants forced to scatter and engage in guerilla warfare with the barbarian clans."
The army had only set out half a month ago—and the situation had already taken a nosedive into chaos.
Even someone as high-ranking as the Supervising Arbiter—second only to one person beneath the heavens—found it hard to believe.
He couldn't help but glance toward the Elder's now-empty study.
The old Elder, with white hair and sleepy eyes, always seemed half-asleep in front of the chessboard—absent-minded, aloof, doing nothing.
But now, that man had stepped down and entered seclusion.
Only now did the Supervising Arbiter realize just how much pressure came with that seat.
He hadn't even fully taken it yet—still just an "acting Elder," a temporary stand-in—yet it already felt like he was walking a tightrope over a bottomless abyss.
And only now did he begin to understand the meaning behind the old Elder's parting words.
Only now did he realize—that seat was not something one could casually sit upon.
And that seemingly muddle-headed old man, always dozing off, was in fact… unfathomable.
The Arbiter even began to suspect: had the Elder foreseen today's situation all along?
Is that why he had deliberately gone against and defied the Dao Court's upper echelons during the Qianxue Province incident?
Is that why, later at the Seven Pavilion Assembly-Meeting, he allowed himself to be framed and targeted by the Hua clan's ancestor (his own clan's patriarch) without any retaliation?
Is that why he "failed", retreated from the stage, and entered seclusion—removing himself from this blazing sea of flames of the Great Wilderness?
Those deep, abyss-like eyes of the Elder resurfaced in his mind.
The Supervising Arbiter felt his scalp tingle. After a long pause, he exhaled deeply and muttered:
"No wonder… during the Elder succession years ago… our Hua clan's ancestor… couldn't beat him…"
At that moment, the nearby Scribe spoke softly and respectfully: "Supervisor, matters involving the clan's ancestor… are best left unspoken."
The Arbiter said nothing.
After a while, he asked, "What's the situation with the Dao Soldier Division?"
The Scribe's voice dropped even lower:
"After the defeat, the Dao Court's authority was shaken. The Dao Sovereign is furious. Several of the Grand Commanders of the Dao Soldier Division were reprimanded. To them, this is a grave humiliation—so this time, they won't hold anything back."
"Recruitment orders have even been sent to the major noble clans."
"They intend to regroup the Dao soldiers once more and strike down the Great Wilderness with thunderous might—wipe out all its warlords and puppet royals. Leave no survivors."
"To honor the fallen with the blood of the barbarian clans."
The Arbiter nodded slowly, but his expression grew even heavier.
He knew that this meant the chessboard had gotten bigger—but it also meant the game had become messier.
If he couldn't hold the pieces together…
He wouldn't just lose face with the Hua clan's ancestor—he'd have no way to explain himself to the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion or the Dao Court.
And then this "acting Elder" title? It would be given to someone else.
Such was the way of Dao Prefecture—ancient noble clans lasting generations, peerless talents as numerous as the stars.
Some things—if you don't do them, there are plenty of others who will.
If you're not capable, there are plenty who are.
And yet...
The Supervising Arbiter looked toward the chaotic sand table before him, the mountain of jade slips and documents, and couldn't help but wonder, thinking of the blood-drenched, chaotic mess that the Great Wilderness had become.
Aside from an old monster like the Grand Elder…
Is there really anyone who can handle this mess?
Is there truly someone who can strategize and thrive amidst the chaos engulfing the Great Wilderness?
...
Great Wilderness, a certain Lone Mountain.
It was dusk. The evening glow blazed like fire.
Mo Hua had lit a campfire. He was roasting meat.
The meat came from a strange beast—one that looked like a jackal, but had antlers like a deer, and the faint features of a goat. A true chimera.
Although Mo Hua was a certified demon-hunter, he'd never hunted beasts in the Great Wilderness and wasn't familiar with its species. He had no idea what this creature was.
Judging by its behavior, he guessed it was herbivorous.
The Great Wilderness was harsh and sparsely populated—if this creature were carnivorous, or fed on humans, it would've likely starved long ago.
This one was only an early-stage Second Rank beast—nothing too powerful.
The big tiger had chased it, pounced, and taken it down in just a few rounds.
Mo Hua then used an array to spark a fire and began roasting the meat.
Meanwhile, the big tiger was off to the side, gnawing happily on a bloody beast leg.
It had been trapped in the Great Wilderness Sect's camp for days, and after the chaos of breaking out during the mutiny, running and fighting non-stop—it had completely burned through its energy.
It was starving.
Now, with fresh meat in front of it, it tore in without hesitation.
But as it chewed, the big tiger suddenly sniffed the air and turned to look at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua's meat had just finished roasting. He'd added spices—spicy and savory ones. The aroma of charred meat and herbs wafted out thick and mouthwatering.
Mo Hua was calmly cutting the meat with a small knife, slicing bite by bite with practiced ease.
The big tiger stared at him, or more precisely, stared at the roasted meat. Its large round eyes were filled with curiosity.
Seeing this, Mo Hua cut off a generous piece and tossed it over.
The tiger gave a happy "awoo!" and caught the meat in its mouth. A few chomps later, it had swallowed it whole.
Then it licked its lips, visibly satisfied.
It went back to chewing on its raw beast meat.
But as it chewed… something felt off.
The meat didn't taste as good anymore. Not like Mo Hua's.
It poked its head over and looked at Mo Hua again.
Mo Hua had no choice but to toss it another piece.
The tiger chewed it, licked its lips again, then looked down at the bloody raw meat in its claws—it felt even more tasteless now.
It paused for a bit… then nudged the half-eaten leg over to Mo Hua.
Apparently, it wanted him to roast it, too.
Mo Hua met its clear, innocent eyes… and couldn't say no. He sighed, took the meat, sprinkled on spices, and patiently roasted it over the fire.
He'd inherited his mother Liu Ruhua's cooking skills. He'd always been great at preparing meals and carried a full set of spices with him.
Back when he traveled with his master, all the cooking had been his job.
After entering the Great Void Sect in Qianxue Prefecture, where food and drink were no concern, he hadn't cooked in a while.
Now, in this vast and empty wilderness, with no one but himself—he had no choice but to cook again.
What he didn't expect was… he'd end up roasting meat for a giant tiger.
Then again, this tiger really was an odd one.
Other carnivorous beasts hunted humans—this one didn't.
Other tiger demons preferred raw meat—this one preferred grilled.
Maybe… just maybe… it was all his fault for feeding it dried fish since it was little and spoiling it.
Mo Hua grumbled inwardly, but his hands didn't stop. A while later, the meat was roasted to perfection. He handed it over.
The big tiger let out a happy "rawr," then wrapped both front paws around the grilled leg and began munching blissfully. Its tail swayed lazily—it looked completely relaxed and content.
And from that moment on, the big tiger's palate was ruined.
It wouldn't eat raw meat unless absolutely necessary.
Whenever it caught something, it would bring it to Mo Hua first—only if he grilled it would it eat.
Sometimes, Mo Hua really didn't feel like cooking. But when the tiger circled him with its pitiful eyes and drooling mouth… he couldn't bring himself to say no.
He had no choice but to indulge it.
But meat wasn't something they could always find.
This place was too barren. Not a soul in sight. Even demon beasts were rare.
That didn't match Mo Hua's impression.
In his understanding, the Great Wilderness was wild and untamed—should've been full of beasts.
Mo Hua figured it must be because of the spreading war and the barbarian army's advance.
The beasts along the way had either been slaughtered or fled the region.
After all, no matter how strong a demon beast was, it couldn't stand against the armies led by the Great Wilderness warlords.
In the path of war, even beast packs had to run for their lives.
Mo Hua sighed softly.
With no way to tell directions, he didn't care anymore. He simply followed the trails of demon beasts, riding the tiger forward.
"Hunting beasts" had become the only thing he could do.
And the thing he must do.
If they could catch a single demon beast, it was enough to feed the big tiger for one meal.
With food, the big tiger could survive.
Otherwise, under the blazing sun and across the endless land, Mo Hua could rely on Fasting Pills to endure. But the big tiger—being a massive food barrel—would undoubtedly starve to death.
And so, Mo Hua rode on the black-and-white tiger's back, hunting demon beasts as he wandered across the Great Wilderness—directionless and destination unknown.
During the day, they traveled and hunted.
At night, if the wind was calm, they continued moving for a while.
If the wind howled and the cold bit deep, they had no choice but to stop and rest.
The big tiger would curl up on the ground, and Mo Hua would wrap himself in a blanket, using the tiger's soft, furry belly as a pillow for warmth.
The sun rose, the moon set. Then the sun rose again.
So the cycle repeated—day after day, month after month—until Mo Hua finally emerged from the rust-red badlands and caught sight of a different landscape.
It was a stretch of jagged mountain ranges, harsh and steep, covered in reddish-brown shrubs.
There, demon qi grew denser, and faintly, Mo Hua could sense the presence of living humans.
After walking for so long, he was finally encountering people again.
He couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement.
Without hesitation, Mo Hua rode the tiger straight into the mountains.
The forested terrain was treacherous, but the vegetation remained relatively intact—this region seemed to have escaped the ravages of the barbarian army's advance.
Demon beasts were also more abundant here. The big tiger's eyes gleamed.
Mo Hua, however, extended his spiritual sense, scanning the area for signs of human activity.
After all, beasts couldn't talk. Only by finding people could he figure out where he was and decide what to do next.
Man and tiger wandered through the forest. Not a single beast dared provoke them.
Tigers were kings among demons; all lesser beasts gave way. Ordinary creatures didn't dare challenge that natural authority.
And this one was a peak Second Rank great beast.
After a short walk, Mo Hua sensed the presence of two cultivators nearby.
He thought for a moment, then said to the tiger:
"Wait here."
The big tiger was far too mighty and conspicuous. Traveling with it would only make asking around more difficult.
But the tiger refused to listen—it kept following him, clearly worried that if it let Mo Hua out of its sight, he'd disappear again.
Mo Hua sighed and tried to reassure it: "I'll be back soon."
The tiger tilted its head, clearly skeptical.
With no choice, Mo Hua removed his storage pouch and placed it in front of the tiger. "Here—hold onto my pouch. Guard it well. I have to come back for it."
The tiger plopped down and placed its front paws over the pouch protectively. Only then did it nod.
Mo Hua couldn't help but mutter inwardly—this tiger really was like a spirit-beast already.
Then he blurred from sight, vanishing as he activated his invisibility technique.
The tiger instinctively panicked, wanting to leap up—but after a moment's hesitation, it laid back down dejectedly, resting its head atop the pouch, guarding it faithfully, waiting for Mo Hua like a tiger-shaped sentry.
Elsewhere, Mo Hua, now invisible, arrived at the edge of a cliff.
Looking down, he saw two cultivators walking side by side along a steep mountain path.
They had tangled hair and bare arms, draped in beast hides. Beasts' markings were etched into their faces, necks, and arms.
Clearly, they weren't cultivators from the Dao Court's Nine Provinces. But they didn't look like sinister demon cultivators either—likely barbarian clan cultivators.
One was a hunched old man, early Foundation Establishment stage, with a face full of wrinkles and a sharp aura.
The other was a boy, no older than ten, only at the fourth or fifth layer of Qi Refining.
They looked like grandfather and grandson.
As they walked deeper into the mountains, the elder spoke to the boy, clearly instructing him along the way.
Though their speech had a strong barbarian accent, they were mostly speaking the official language of the Dao Court.
Mo Hua could understand the general meaning.
As for why a pair of barbarian clan members would speak Dao Court's common tongue—he had an idea.
The Great Wilderness was home to three thousand barbarian tribes, each with their own language and script.
But after the royal family of the Great Wilderness rebelled and was suppressed by the Dao Court, new laws were issued: all clans in the region were required to learn the Dao Court's script and language.
To destroy a people's culture, one must first strip them of their language.
Thus, most clans in the Great Wilderness now spoke the Nine Provinces' standardized language, albeit with a barbarian accent.
On the mountain trail, the grandfather and grandson chatted idly.
The conversation was disjointed, rambling.
Mo Hua silently listened from the shadows—until, suddenly, his expression changed.
He had just caught a few words.
Specifically: the word "sacrifice."
"A sacrifice… of what?"
Mo Hua's eyes narrowed slightly.
(End of this Chapter)