Compared to the Barbarians' towering builds, this figure was far too slight, far too slender. Standing atop the lofty altar, he seemed utterly tiny—and every person present was startled by the strangeness of it.
Especially Yan Zhu, Qing Zhu, and the Black Vulture Elder, the three High Shamans.
Their strength exhausted, they had collapsed to the ground and could not struggle for the moment. Yet as their eyes shifted, they could see the Shaman's robe worn by that slender figure, as well as that fair jade-like face—delicate as water, handsome as a painting.
Yan Zhu said in shock, "You?!"
Mo Hua smiled faintly.
Stormy waves surged through Yan Zhu's heart. "How did you get up here? You're only at Foundation Establishment, you..."
His heart was filled with shock and incomprehension.
Even Qing Zhu and the Black Vulture Elder had disbelief in their eyes.
This was the altar, a place wreathed in Vermilion Bird Fire. Even late Golden Core cultivators could not set foot here. This was an Ancient Altar where even High Shamans like them had to tread with utmost caution. And beneath the altar, late Golden Core experts were locked in battle.
Layer upon layer of armies had surrounded the outside.
How had this kid, only at Foundation Establishment, crossed all those obstacles and ascended the altar?
And how had he even concealed himself from the senses of all three High Shamans, hiding until now?
An inexplicable chill rose in all three of their hearts.
Just then, Yan Zhu's heart stirred. He hurriedly said, "Little... little brother..."
Mo Hua looked at Yan Zhu.
Yan Zhu forced a smile. "Do you remember our agreement? You would do... no, help me with something. I could recommend you to the Royal Court, have you formally bestowed the title of Shaman, and let