Dao of the World Walker (Xianxia) Book 2

Behind him, the stones groaned as they slid back into place, sealing him inside. Yang kept his gaze focused ahead, refusing to look back, and watched the last sliver of light vanish as the final stone locked into place.

Like the underground tunnels that led to the statue chamber, there was no restriction on his senses here, so Yang was able to see clearly even without any source of light. He began walking through the narrow corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. It was completely bare and smooth as if carved out of a single colossal stone, and it was cold, so cold that Yang could see his breath condensing in the air every time he exhaled. The corridor ran straight ahead without even the slightest curve or bend, offering no side paths or openings along the way. There was only one route available to him, so Yang’s only choice was to continue walking forward.

Yang must have been walking for hours when he finally noticed the passage beginning to open up, and the last few steps brought him out to the mouth of a vast chamber.

As he stepped onto the threshold of the chamber, he couldn’t help but look around. There was no clear source of light, yet the chamber was not dark. A hazy, subtle blue glow filled the space, emanating from the strange clouds that seemed to be high above in lieu of a ceiling. They swirled, glowing faintly, looking almost radioactive.

Spread throughout the chamber were massive horizontal slabs, about ten feet tall and twenty feet wide, with carvings of cultivators depicted wielding all manner of weapons: swords, spears, whips, daggers, and bows, and a few unfamiliar to Yang, but by far the most common was the traditional sword. The carved figures looked remarkably lifelike. Each with distinct facial features, holding alert stances.

Yang took his first step inside the chamber and came to a sudden halt as the ground beneath him lit up. 

There were no carvings on the floor, yet its entire surface was covered by a pale blue shimmering script. The characters began swirling wildly beneath his feet, moving faster and faster until they suddenly peeled off the ground and began shooting straight up into the air vertically, in countless streams. 

Then Yang noticed the carved slabs began to move, shifting and rotating almost imperceptibly. At first they only moved slowly, but as Yang continued walking further into the chamber, he realized that the slabs were not rotating without purpose. The point was for the carved cultivators to be facing Yang. All the carved slabs, whether close or at a distance, turned until the cultivators carved upon their surfaces were gazing in Yang’s direction. No matter where he looked, there were always multiple pairs of carved eyes locked onto him. 

And they were looking at him. These were no simple renditions of long-dead cultivators. Even a mortal would feel the weight of thousands of eyes upon them, let alone Yang, who was a cultivator. Their gaze seemed to be looking through him.

Then, without warning, the stone slabs began spinning and moving faster, crowding him until he was forced to keep moving if he didn’t wish to be crushed, sandwiched between them. They practically herded him until he was in the center of the chamber. At which point the slabs started shifting into two parallel rows on either side of him, creating a path for him to follow. 

He heard a loud grinding thud and quickly turned around, only to see the last slab sliding into place to cover his rear, boxing him in on all three sides and leaving only the path they had created ahead for him to follow. All the slabs locked into place and briefly glowed a brilliant gold before returning to their original appearance.

And now the floor script that so far had been streaming straight up also started acting up. It began converging on the path ahead of him, spilling like water until the whole path was covered in densely packed shimmering pale blue characters. 

Finally it all came to rest, and Yang waited with bated breath to see what else would happen; a minute or so in, when nothing else occurred, Yang took a tentative step. Then another. And another, until he was walking the unending path stretching ahead of him, framed on both sides by the carved cultivators.

He kept moving until eventually the end of the path came into view, with nothing but the cloud-like blue haze ahead. Or at least what had seemed like the end until Yang took the last step.

The path did continue ahead but not in the way anyone would expect. Instead, it steeply descended at a perfect ninety-degree angle. Even the stone slabs continued along the surface of the vertical drop as if the rules of gravity ceased to matter here.

Yang stood at the ledge considering turning back, but the thought had barely formed in his mind before he heard the loud scrape of stone sliding and watched in shock as a stone slab a few paces back turned until it was blocking the path.

Right. No going back.

He looked down, gradually raising one foot in the air and pressing down, but instead of the feeling of a drop he found himself still stepping on the completely vertical path. He reflexively brought his other foot forward, unable to keep his feet positioned in such conflicting directions.

He looked behind him at the ledge where the slab now occupied the place where he had been standing and started walking. He was treading on an impossible path, yet he felt no distortion or exertion to show for it. 

In a world of magic, what was up and what was down, it all came down to will and perception, he thought as he took in the clouds above. 

He continued walking, following where the path would lead. The further he went down, or rather now ahead, the more the blue glow of the script weakened until eventually the characters themselves began to disappear, leaving only faint purple light which seemed to be becoming more and more red as he kept pressing ahead. 

The further ahead he walked, the more concentrated it became until he found the path lit with only a crimson haze, at which point he found himself at another ninety-degree bend. 

This time, if he followed it, he would be walking upside down.

The stone slabs boxing him on either side also seemed to end at this point. 

Yang hesitated for a moment before stepping past the bend.

The moment he stepped over, a deep groan of stone came from behind him. Yang immediately spun around to see that the path behind him had disappeared. Unlike at the previous bend, there was nothing behind him. Not even the carved slab blocking his way back. It was as if the path he had taken never existed in the first place. 

And now there was nothing but an endless expanse of thick blood-red haze. 

And the dead.

Yang stood in disbelief, slowly turning his head around as he took in the walls on all four sides submerged in the blood-red mist. These were no mere walls made of stone or brick but rather of human corpses. 

Innumerable bodies packed together to create a wall. Layer upon layer of human remains disappearing into the crimson fog. 

Yang felt his entire body go cold as he saw the faces of the dead bodies embedded into the wall turning towards him. Their gaze felt far more intrusive and, dare he say, alive than the ones from the stone slab carvings. 

He felt a sudden bout of wariness wash over him and immediately reached to take out Senior Brother Fan Xiao’s talisman—

But his hand froze as a thin red thread pierced through his wrist.

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