Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2925: Sharing Information

"You remembered something," Lin Mu said gently.

The vice captain scratched his chin and frowned. "It’s probably nothing. Could’ve been my eyes playing tricks on me."

"Please. Tell me anyway."

Yiru Shen sighed. "When we found him... I looked him in the eye. Just once, when he was half-conscious. For a split second, I saw something flicker in his right eye."

Lin Mu’s heartbeat quickened. "What did you see?"

The man closed his eyes, recalling the image. "It was faint... like a brand beneath the iris. But not a normal one. It was... an eye. An eye surrounded by thorn-like patterns. Thorns that curved inward... almost like a cage."

Lin Mu felt a jolt run through him.

’An eye surrounded by thorns...’

That wasn’t random.

That was a symbol.

A mark.

Perhaps even a seal.

And it wasn’t just any symbol—it matched the esoteric design he had glimpsed in the Hollow Eye Sect’s sigil during the banquet ambush as well as when he had gone to that cave near the Hawk Eye Sword Sect.

The resemblance was too close to ignore.

"That image," Lin Mu said slowly. "Are you absolutely sure that’s what you saw?"

Yiru Shen nodded. "As sure as I can be. It lasted barely a second. Then it was gone. I never mentioned it in the report. Thought it was my imagination. The man was dying... I didn’t question it further."

Lin Mu stood still, mind racing.

This was it.

This could be the thread he needed to unravel the Hollow Eye Sect’s mystery. The word ’Ephemera’, the mad survivor, the blood not his, and the eye of thorns—all of it painted a picture too ominous to ignore.

"I thank you, Vice Captain," Lin Mu said, bowing deeply. "You’ve given me more than you know."

"If there’s more to this story," Yiru Shen said, voice low, "then be careful, Daoist Lin Mu. That valley holds dangers best left buried."

Lin Mu turned to leave.

But he already knew—

Some secrets were meant to be dug up.

Night fell over the city like a velvet curtain, the golden lanterns of Goldveil flickering to life one by one, casting long shadows on the smooth cobblestone roads. Lin Mu returned to the inn just past the ninth bell, the hem of his robe dusty from the day’s journey, his thoughts still echoing with Yiru Shen’s words.

The inn was quiet, tucked into a side alley, its cozy interior lit by spirit lamps that hummed with gentle warmth. As he stepped into the common room, he spotted Little Shrubby, Meng Bai, and Daoist Chu seated around a table filled with half-eaten dishes and teacups.

"Master!" Little Shrubby chirped, his leaf patterned ears perking up. "You’re back!"

Lin Mu offered a nod, pulling out a chair and sinking into it with a tired sigh.

"You all had any luck?" he asked.

The mood around the table was sober. Meng Bai leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands.

"I looked into sect registries, trade routes, even merchant guild logs," he said. "But there’s almost nothing on the Hollow Eye Sect. They’ve kept their presence minimal for centuries. The only reports I found were from passing merchant caravans or guard patrols—occasional sightings of robed individuals lurking at the edges of the Northwestern Path or deep within fog-choked forests."

He shook his head.

"No names. No interactions. Just brief, unsettling sightings. They vanish before anyone can approach."

Lin Mu frowned. That matched what he’d already gathered. Elusive. Hidden. They left just enough of a presence to unsettle, but not enough to be traced.

"And you, Daoist Chu?" Lin Mu asked.

Daoist Chu, ever calm, stroked his beard as he picked up a teacup.

"The Shadow Whisper Valley," he began, "is not officially classified as forbidden... but it might as well be."

He leaned back in his seat, voice steady.

"There are reports dating back five centuries—tales of ghostly figures appearing in the fog, attacking travelers. Of voices calling people into the trees. Of dreams that seem to follow one home. The kind of stories that make even seasoned cultivators avoid the place."

He sipped his tea before continuing.

"There are no sanctioned expeditions. No maps worth trusting. The cultivator community doesn’t acknowledge it directly, but no sect builds near it, and no major formations are erected through it. People simply... don’t go there."

Lin Mu’s eyes narrowed. "But someone must’ve gone deep enough to get some details?"

Daoist Chu nodded. "Yes. Most of those who ventured in turned back within a few hours. One of my acquaintances from a century ago—Elder Hongyuan—kept a record of several small exploratory teams. They encountered spatial inconsistencies, hallucinations, and zones where spiritual sense cut off entirely."

He tapped the table with a finger.

"But there was one account that stood out. A lone cultivator from the Iron Veil Sect, some 150 years ago. He stayed in the valley for three days. Returned near-dead and burned most of his notes. What little survived talked about a ’second sky’—a layer beneath the visible one. And something about watching eyes behind veils."

Meng Bai frowned. "Watching eyes..."

"Could be poetic language," Chu said. "Or it could be literal. Either way, something strange lives in that valley."

Just then, Little Shrubby, who had been gnawing thoughtfully on a piece of fried root, piped up.

"I followed the scent trail again today," he said, tail flicking. "From the banquet ambush."

Lin Mu leaned forward. "And?"

"It got weaker and weaker the further I went. Almost like the people we chased had some kind of scent-masking technique. I tracked it as far as I could, but three hundred kilometers west of the city..."

He shook his furry head.

"Gone. Vanished completely. No trace, no leftover qi signature, not even a breeze out of place. Just... gone."

Lin Mu leaned back in his chair, piecing it all together in his mind.

A sect that moved in shadows, with almost no records. A forbidden valley filled with spiritual interference. A man who had wandered out of that same place driven mad, repeating only the word ’Ephemera’, and with a faint symbol of an eye surrounded by thorns burned beneath his iris. Now, a trail that disappeared in the middle of nowhere, with no hint of teleportation or combat.

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