Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2932: Fighting The Ephemerach

Pillars of thorned bone burst from the ground, twisting into spears and serpents. Faces screamed from their surfaces. A phantom blade forged from forgotten regrets formed in the Ephemerarch’s hand—a sword of echoes.

It struck first.

Lin Mu barely dodged as the spectral blade ripped through reality itself, leaving a trail of bleeding space in its wake. The thorns chased him, piercing the sutra’s light like spears of memory.

He struck back, hands weaving sword-intent with the Calming Heart Sutra. Where his strikes landed, phantoms were released—screaming, then fading in peace.

"Your light burns what I protect!" the Ephemerarch howled, driving his blade into the earth.

The ground ruptured.

Dozens of mirrored Lin Mus emerged—spectral doubles, each twisted by sorrow, loss, and rage.

They attacked.

Lin Mu’s aura flared—Buddhist radiance merging with sword intent—his palm strikes disintegrating false reflections, sutra chants banishing their lingering echoes. But the Ephemerarch watched... waiting.

Then it moved again.

It teleported—not through space, but through emotion.

Appearing where Lin Mu faltered. Where doubt existed. Where fear cracked his breath.

It struck from grief.

And nearly pierced his heart. Its ghostly strength seemingly by passing the defenses of his Burdenless Dominator Physique.

Lin Mu was matched up against a being that targeted his weakness.

Only the last verse of the sutra saved him.

"Release all suffering, and awaken to the boundless stillness beyond form."

A pulse of light erupted—the sutra combined with the barrier of the Litany of Verdant Forests. becoming a lotus-shaped shield, absorbing the blow.

Lin Mu rose. Blood in his mouth. Voice steady.

"You are not a god. You are a grave."

He unleashed everything.

The Buddhist aura wrapped around Lin Mu’s arm as he sent forth a golden palm.

Afternoon Pine and Ocean Raker slashed out yellow and blue slashes full of sword intent.

Wonder Seeker shot out multiple elemental arrows.

Magma claws rose out of Lin Mu’s back and tore into the air.

Then Gravity itself seemed to bend before bringing everything closer.

Finally they converged into a single streak of light.

And with a single step, he closed the distance.

His strike was not just force—it was revelation.

The Eye shrieked.

The Ephemerarch staggered as the light combined with multiple attacks speared through its chest.

"I... was only ever... a memory..."

Its body unraveled.

Not in death.

But in release.

Silence returned.

The altar no longer pulsed.

The Eye was closed.

Lin Mu stood alone, the last echoes of the Calming Heart Sutra fading into the mist.

Above, far beyond the fog, the first glimpse of sky in days broke through—a sliver of gray-blue, uncertain, but present.

He turned, walking back toward the path.

The battle was over.

But the war that birthed it still lingered in the valley’s breath.

The silence after the battle was not peace.

It was the breath held before another descent.

As Lin Mu turned from the lifeless altar, the fog around him shifted—not away, but inward. It curled unnaturally, spiraling like silk pulled into a drain.

Then—footsteps. Dozens.

Figures emerged from the fog. Silent. Robed in gray and crimson. Their faces obscured behind bone-white masks etched with single bleeding eyes. Not ghosts. Not illusions. Their presence stirred the wind, their essence flickered with true cultivation.

Then, from amidst their number, one stepped forward.

He began to clap.

Slow. Rhythmic. Disrespectful.

"Magnificent. Truly magnificent."

The man’s voice carried arrogance and reverence in equal measure. Others joined him, clapping as if watching a stage play rather than a fierce battle.

Lin Mu’s aura flared.

He said nothing—but his eyes spoke of imminent judgment.

Sword Intent coiled around his form.

The Calming Heart Sutra pulsed, ready to flare once more.

"So eager to strike?" came a familiar voice.

Another figure stepped through the curtain of cultists.

Elder Mingshi.

Calm.

Smiling.

Both hands raised in surrender.

His robes bore the true sigil of the Hollow Eye Sect, the bleeding eye encircled by root-thorns. Unlike the one he had worn at the Banquet before.

"Peace, Lin Mu," he said. "None of us are your match. We wouldn’t insult you by trying."

Lin Mu narrowed his gaze, every instinct screaming caution.

"Then why appear now?" he asked, tone flat. "Why follow me here? Why allow me to go this far into your land?"

Mingshi chuckled softly.

There was no mockery in it—only something worse: confidence.

"Because we wanted you to. Because you needed to see... that." He gestured back toward the now-stilled altar, toward the eye that had finally shut.

"The Cult of Ephemera. The Eye. The ghost you just slew." He met Lin Mu’s eyes. "You’ve walked into a tale far older than any of us."

Lin Mu said nothing.

"You must be wondering," Mingshi continued, "why we provoked you at the banquet. Why we didn’t resist your entry into Shadow Whisper Valley. Why the strongest of our sect never intervened."

"I don’t wonder," Lin Mu said coldly. "You’re manipulators. Cowards who hide behind riddles."

"Perhaps." Mingshi’s expression didn’t change. "But don’t you wish to know the truth?"

The wind paused. The mist grew still.

Lin Mu’s brow furrowed.

He thought.

He had wondered. The banquet. The provocations. The strange silence in the valley. The ghosts stronger than mortals. The altar that didn’t attack—but waited.

It was all planned.

Yet... they stood before him now, their power dwarfed by his own.

Unlike the spirits of the dead, these were cultivators—bound to flesh, to qi, to rules. They could not affect him. Not with the Burdenless Dominator Physique pulsing through his frame.

He slowly exhaled.

"Fine," he said at last. "Talk. But no riddles. No schemes."

Mingshi inclined his head. "As you wish."

He raised a hand, and space twisted.

A ripple of teleportation was felt—a proper one, ancient and carved not with talismans but with branded spatial memory—spread across the altar platform.

Lin Mu paid attention to it, being highly familiar with it. If he wished, he could easily stop this teleportation array. It was the one thing he was the least wary about.

Lin Mu stepped forward, vanishing with them.

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