Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2898: Seeking Alternate Means Of Help

As the silver moon hung suspended in the heavy skies above the Great Burden Monastery, Lin Mu stood in the inner sanctum, surrounded by the meditating monks and the abbot nearby.

His gaze fixed on the swirling rift that pulsed at the center of the Heart of Gravity. The gravitational pressure pressed down on him like a constant breath of some ancient beast—silent, steady, and impossibly vast.

He had tried everything he knew. Sealing techniques, spatial runes used for teleportation arrays, and even some gravitational harmony formations that he had read in some of the books he had.

The gravitational harmony formations were far beyond his level, even at his current comprehension and needed not just a Grandmaster Alchemist but one that had the Gravity Dao too. Lin Mu had tried it as a fluke but was unsuccessful, lacking requirements.

No method had even come close to resolving the issue.

And so, Lin Mu turned to the one being he trusted most. The one being who had always guided him when the path ahead grew murky.

Xukong.

His master.

His guardian.

The Pillars of the Void.

The Void Weaver Spider whose wisdom spanned eons.

Lin Mu sat cross-legged, focusing his will into the space of his mind. A ripple passed through the void within him as he channeled his thoughts.

”Senior… are you there?”

Silence.

He waited, tried again.

”Senior Xukong, I need your guidance.”

Only the hush of endless stars answered him.

A flicker of concern passed through his chest. Xukong had long ago warned him of this—that he would soon enter a deep cultivation slumber, drawing upon the streaks of spatial energy within his ring to empower himself, further his cultivation and reach the state of molting.

”It might take years,” he had said. ”Do call upon me if you must. But remember I might not respond.”

Lin Mu bit his lip. If not now, then when?

He called again. And again. A hundred times across that day.

Each time, his voice echoed into the emptiness. No answer.

The sense of helplessness was a bitter taste. Still, Lin Mu refused to break. He needed to be calm—for the sake of the monks… and for himself.

And so began a month of quiet desperation.

Each day, he delved into the Great Burden Monasteryʼs dusty scroll vaults, studying everything he could find. Ancient treatises on spatial collapse. Notes from survivors of the Vimana Realmʼs fall. Transcripts of the Immovable Vajra Templeʼs trials.

But none offered a solution. None spoke of rifts or sealing tears in reality. Most were focused on cultivation under pressure—not preventing pressure from consuming everything.

He would spend hours among the shelves, calling to Xukong during his meditation breaks, only to receive no reply. There was no sign that the Void Weaver even stirred.

And outside the sanctum, time dragged forward like lead.

Meng Bai, meanwhile, had retreated to the edge of the monastery grounds. Even at the outer periphery, the weight in the air was enough to strain his youthful body. He no longer trained, no longer studied. He simply sat in meditation, conserving strength.

Much to his surprise, the enhanced gravity was actually helping him. He could feel his body getting tempered naturally and even his qi was getting denser.

Lin Mu found him one evening, slumped against a moss-covered wall beneath a swaying pine tree, breath shallow.

”Still hanging on?” Lin Mu asked softly.

Meng Bai opened one eye and gave him a wry smile. ”Barely. Feels like thereʼs a boulder strapped to my chest. I donʼt know how those monks manage to move around.” Especially considering Meng Bai was just at the Peak of the Nascent Soul realm.

They were lucky that the gravity applied the same to everyone, instead of a flat force. It doubled or tripled ones weight, instead of thrusting the weight of a mountain on everyone. Otherwise Meng Bai might not have lived this long.

”Youʼve lasted longer than most would,” Lin Mu said. ”But… this might take more time than I thought.”

Meng Bai nodded, eyes slightly glazed. ”I figured.”

”Here,” Lin Mu said, waving his hand.

A ripple appeared in the air as he summoned the portable courtyard, conjuring it from his spatial ring. It unfolded with a gentle shimmer—an oasis of stillness beyond the reach of the monasteryʼs gravitational field.

”You can stay in here,” Lin Mu said, guiding him inside. ”The gravity wonʼt affect you, and thereʼs food, water, and a cultivation array as you already know.”

Meng Bai nodded in agreement. ”This will at least make it a bit more comfortable.”

”I was busy for a while now so didnʼt come out.” Lin Mu smiled faintly. ”But now you can rest.”

Meng Bai stepped inside, already feeling the pressure lift from his shoulders. He took a deep breath, and his entire body relaxed.

”Thanks, Master.”

”Rest up. Iʼll handle the rest.”

With that, Lin Mu turned and walked back into the monastery, the air thickening with every step. Meng Bai watched him go in silence.

Back inside, the pressure was getting worse. It was clear that Lin Mu had come at the right time. Any later and perhaps the Monastery might not exist anymore.

Even Lin Muʼs bones ached now—not from weakness, but from the unnatural distortion that pressed against his body with every step. He returned to the chamber containing the Heart of Gravity and sat again before the formation.

He stared at the rift, pulsing gently in its cradle of ancient stone and shimmering script.

One month. No progress. No word from Xukong.

And yet… Lin Mu did not give up.

”Iʼll find a way,” he whispered. ”Even if I have to scour a million documents.”

Still, part of him longed for his masterʼs voice. That calm, sharp tone that could slice through doubt like a blade through fog.

”Just one word, Master…” he muttered. ”Just one clue.”

But none came.

And so he continued to wait. To search. To hope.

To fight, silently, against a pressure no eye could see—and a silence no scream could break.