Inside the Shaman Hall.
Firelight flickered. There was no one around, and all was silent.
Mo Hua sat alone upon the shaman's high seat, like a solitary "idol," the candlelight stretching his pitch-black shadow very long.
"My... Humanity..."
Mo Hua's gaze gradually turned deep and cold. A moment later, that coldness shifted into gentleness.
But within that gentleness, there was still only a god's compassion, and no human emotion.
When the night wind blew and the firelight stirred, Mo Hua's pupils trembled faintly. He immediately came back to himself, and the lofty, indifferent detachment of a deity withdrew from his eyes. They became a little more vivid, and carried a few more shades of "human."
At the very least, he looked like a "person" now...
But Mo Hua's brows gradually knitted tight.
He realized something was wrong.
By becoming the shaman, acting on behalf of Divine Authority, and to a certain degree, being the "God Lord" himself, he received the faith of the people of the Great Wilderness.
The divinity within his Divine Consciousness had, without sound or trace, already begun to press down on his Humanity.
He became calmer and calmer, more and more like a lofty "deity," looking down upon all living beings, watching their life and death, watching the slaughter of the mortal world, and placing the sorrows and suffering of others beyond concern.
His body and mind were both transforming toward "divinity."
Not only that, at this moment, he also held immense Authority.
All fame and profit, power, and wealth in the world had always corroded the human heart.
And this kind of "corrosion" was likewise silent and imperceptible.
Those who stood in the field of fame and profit and held great power found it very difficult to realize that they themselves were being "assimilated" by