Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3100: Checking The Cult Leader’s Ring

Lin Mu’s gaze hardened, but the Grand elder lifted his hand. ”Do not mistake me. I am not condemning you. A sword must cut, whether it shines in the sun or drips with poison. What matters is the hand that wields it. I chose to trust you, Lin Mu. Do not falter.”

For the first time since consuming the Nascent Soul, Lin Mu allowed himself a slow, grounding breath. ”I will not falter.”

The Grand Elder’s single eye gleamed. ”Good. Then let us prepare. I will take word back to the sect and begin mobilizing those we can trust. You... follow the resonance of that token. Find their hidden roots. When you have them cornered, send word, and we will strike together.”

Lin Mu nodded.

Yet even as he agreed, his thoughts churned.

Was he truly becoming more decisive, as Lin Mo seemed to believe?

Or was he simply walking further down a path where his choices and Lin Mo’s desires overlapped?

For now, he pushed the doubts aside. The Hidden Cave Sect awaited, and hesitation could spell disaster.

But in the quiet chambers of his heart, unease coiled like a serpent, whispering that one day, he would need to face not just the enemies outside... but the shadow of himself within.

Grand Elder Huo did not linger for long after their discussion.

He was a man of action, and now that they had direction, he moved with the decisiveness of someone who understood the weight of time. With a final word of reassurance, he rose, his robes trailing like storm clouds as he turned and left the chamber.

His footsteps were heavy, yet steady, carrying the authority of an elder who had carried the sect for thousands of years.

Lin Mu watched him leave in silence. When the echoes of his departure faded, the room grew unnaturally quiet, as though even the stones of the mountain were listening. Lin Mu exhaled, shoulders finally easing as he shifted his attention to the object he had been waiting to examine.

His hand lifted, and with a thought, a faint glow rippled in the air before a plain silver ring appeared in his palm. It was unassuming at first glance, neither ornate nor bearing visible seals.

But Lin Mu knew better. This was the spatial storage ring of the Scarred Crescent Cult leader, seized before the man’s body was destroyed and secured within Lin Mu’s own storage.

More importantly, within this ring lay the token that the leader had been given.

A token that was not merely a symbol of authority, but a teleportation key tied directly to the Hidden Cave Sect. It was how they had kept their real location secret. One couldn’t enter it when they didn’t even know the entrance.

The user would simply be teleported within their base, not knowing which part of the world they were in.

Lin Mu’s eyes narrowed slightly as he ran a thumb over the ring’s cold surface.

The wards that should have been there were present, intricate and carefully woven, designed to keep out any who lacked the owner’s imprint. Normally, unraveling these protections would be a delicate and time-consuming affair. But Lin Mu did not need to break them.

He had already consumed the leader’s soul.

The essence, the Qi signature, the very imprint that bound the ring was now his to command.

Without hesitation, Lin Mu poured a thread of his qi into the ring. There was a faint resistance at first, like a door testing whether the hand that pushed belonged to the rightful master. Then, almost reluctantly, the resistance faded. The ring accepted him.

With a flick of his hand, Lin Mu wiped away the last vestiges of the cult leader’s imprint. The connection was gone, erased like dust from glass, leaving the ring wholly in his possession.

Immediately, he opened his senses and peered inside.

What greeted him was a sight that would have made a lesser cultivator tremble.

Stacks of immortal stones, glittering like stars caught in crystalline form, filled a portion of the inner space. Bundles of rare herbs, some radiating subtle medicinal auras, lay neatly tied in silken cords.

Bottles of elixirs and jade vials of pills gleamed faintly, each sealed to preserve their potency. Golden talismans were stacked in a lacquered box, each one inscribed with precise runes of offensive and defensive natures.

It was a hoard that could rival one of the sect vaults, a fortune built over centuries, perhaps even tens of millenniums.

Whether this was the leader’s personal wealth or plunder from the cult’s treasuries was unknown. Lin Mu doubted even the dead man himself could have said where one ended and the other began.

But ultimately, it mattered little.

It was his now to keep and use as he wished, with no one to stop him.

Lin Mu extended his will through the storage space, scanning every corner for records, scrolls, or any hidden caches of information.

Yet what he found was nothing new.

Ledgers of resources, maps of routes already known, notes about the cult’s dealings, all of it redundant. He had already stripped the man’s soul of such secrets, and the ring merely echoed what he knew.

Still, there was more of interest.

Lin Mu’s attention turned to a set of jade slips bound together with a black cord. Skill manuals and cultivation techniques radiated from them, the faint echoes of knowledge pressing against his spiritual sense. He pulled them out with a thought and examined them.

Most of the techniques were unorthodox, befitting someone steeped in the dark currents of the cults. Methods of siphoning vitality from followers, secret formations to instill loyalty, and sinister arts designed to sow terror among common cultivators.

One, however, drew his attention.

The Rise of the Drowned Crescent.

The very technique the leader had used in the recent battle to suddenly empower his followers, turning ordinary cultists into blazing sacrifices of power that could unleash power one stage above their normal cultivation base.