Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3016: The Strained Ephemera Sect

While Lin Mu remained in the Xian Sword Sect, calmly awaiting word of the missing elders who had ventured in search of the Ephemera Sect’s remnants, events far beyond the sect walls were already stirring.

The trail of the two elders remained elusive.

Despite the sect’s best efforts, not a single trace of their spiritual signatures or any report of their whereabouts had surfaced. It was as if they had vanished without a ripple, their presences swallowed by a hidden tide.

Lin Mu continued to wait, watching the patterns of peace with growing suspicion. Peace was never so still unless something was suppressing the waves.

Meanwhile, hundreds of leagues away, deep within the borders of the Darkhan Dynasty, a different sort of silence reigned—one not of peace, but of dread and preparation.

Within the Crimson Vine Province, far from the eyes of the imperial courts and cultivator clans, a secluded mountain cave lay hidden behind thick forests and illusory formations. Beneath the roots of the land, a subterranean chamber flickered with dim crimson light.

The air was heavy with the scent of aged blood and strange incense, and around the edges of the room stood robed individuals in formations marked with sigils of secrecy and suppression.

At the center of the chamber stood two figures—one, a tall man cloaked in faded, dark robes that seemed to consume light rather than reflect it. His eyes were obscured by a veil of shadows, and a quiet, almost oppressive aura clung to him like a second skin.

The second was a woman clad in deep crimson robes embroidered with thread made from beast sinew and immortal silk. Her presence was domineering, and the red veil she wore did little to hide her eyes, which gleamed with cold, almost fanatical certainty.

Around them, lesser members of the sect shuffled nervously.𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"High Oracle," one of the robed men began, bowing respectfully, "how much longer must we wait? The signs grow muddled, and the alliance... they grow impatient. We fear what might happen if they withdraw support."

There was no response at first. The crimson-robed woman, known among them as the Priestess Xinru, remained silent for a heartbeat longer before speaking, her voice calm but laced with warning.

"The ancestors’ orders are absolute. Our time has not yet come. If we act prematurely again, it will not be the enemy that destroys us, but our own folly."

The mention of failure caused a ripple of unease throughout the chamber.

Especially when Priestess Xinru’s gaze swept across the room and lingered on the more senior acolytes. "Have you already forgotten the Crimson Eye Branch?" she asked sharply.

The room fell deathly still.

The Crimson Eye Branch... their strongest outpost in the Shadow Whisper valley. It had been wiped out in a single night. The news had arrived not by messenger, but by the silence that followed.

When scouts were sent, they found the chamber collapsed, the interior caved in with eerie precision. What little was left bore no signs of battle, only a deep, unsettling pressure still lingering in the air—an invisible stain of power.

The bodies of the Hollow Eye cultivators were barely recognizable, pulped and fused into the stone itself, reduced to crimson sludge. No remains could be honored, no talismans recovered. It had been as if a god had crushed the sect branch in the palm of his hand.

They knew the cause: Lin Mu.

He had come into contact with that branch, and what followed was annihilation.

"Even now, we still do not understand what power he used..." one robed man muttered under his breath.

"He didn’t just kill them," said another, barely above a whisper. "He erased their presence. It was as if their very karmic threads were severed."

Priestess Xinru narrowed her eyes. "And that is why we must wait. Lin Mu is no ordinary obstacle. He is a bearer of something ancient. If we had moved with the others back then, we all would have perished."

"But Priestess!" another cultist cried, desperation seeping into his voice. "The other sects of the alliance—The Hidden Cave Sect, the Veiled Roots Pavilion, even the Drowning Crescent Cult—grow restless. If we are to wait further, they demand signs. Assurance that the delay is not cowardice."

Several of the cultists nodded in agreement. While the Ephemera Sect was the spearhead of the plan, they could not afford to lose the coalition that had been painstakingly built over the decades.

Just as Priestess Xinru’s expression began to twist with anger, a calm voice echoed throughout the chamber.

"There is no need to argue."

It was the High Oracle.

Though silent until now, his presence had never waned. With a wave of his hand, the surrounding temperature plummeted. The chamber dimmed even further as the crimson torches flickered, as if afraid to burn in his presence.

"If our allies demand assurance," the Oracle said, raising his palm, "then I shall scry again."

It had been more than four years since they had gone into hiding and even the Oracle knew he could not let the allies wait. He would have to make some effort to placate them now. if he didn’t do that, there was no telling what they others might do.

After all, unlike them, the Ephemera, the other evil sects did not know patience.

The air turned dense. An orb of pitch-black crystal materialized above his hand, swirling with tendrils of unknown essence.

"Know this," the Oracle added, "fate is not a river easily redirected. If nothing has changed, it is because destiny has not yet reached the point of divergence. But if it has..."

His words trailed off ominously.

The cultists fell silent. Even Priestess Xinry stepped back.

The scrying began.

The orb spun faster, pulling in the surrounding qi. Whispers filled the chamber, voices not their own, ancient and heavy with prophecy. Crimson runes flared across the chamber walls as images began to form within the orb—blurry, fractured glimpses of people, events, a land shrouded in mist.

Lin Mu’s face flashed—brief, sharp, like the stroke of a blade.