Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3063: Questioning The Broken Foe

Elyon could not comprehend Lin Mu’s path.

It was not one of glory, not one paved with honor or theatrical heroism.

It was the Path of Dominion.

A path where one didn’t merely walk ahead of others—but walked above them, where even the sky bent to your will.

"...What are you...?" Elyon whispered again, his voice barely audible. "How does something like you even exist?"

No answer came.

Only the sight of Lin Mu standing still, the ruins of the fortress around him, his gaze now falling upon the survivors—ready to demand truth, or erase them if they hesitated.

And Elyon, now certain of one thing above all else:

This man was born not to follow the Heavens—

—but to challenge them.

The cracked floor groaned beneath Lin Mu’s step.

He descended slowly, his shadow falling over the half-crumpled elder who still clung to life by sheer cultivation and stubborn will.

Blood leaked from the man’s nose and ears, and his ribs stuck out at angles that defied nature. Even so, his eyes widened in horror as Lin Mu approached—those same unblinking eyes that had stared with fanatic zeal just moments ago now brimming with dread.

Lin Mu didn’t speak at first.

He simply placed one foot on the elder’s shattered chest.

The stone cracked again.

The elder’s eyes bulged.

A sound like wet gravel being ground echoed beneath Lin Mu’s heel as he applied pressure—not with intent to kill, but to remind. Remind the elder what power truly meant.

The man let out a strangled gasp, blood dribbling from his lips as his body convulsed in pain.

And yet, Lin Mu’s face remained expressionless.

His voice, when it came, was calm.

Devoid of emotion, yet heavier than the weight pressing on the man’s chest.

"What did you intend to do with the horn?"

The elder coughed. "Y-you... think this is the end...? You think—"

Lin Mu pressed down slightly.

The elder shrieked as one of his remaining ribs punctured a lung. Immortal or not, the agony was immense.

"The next time you waste words," Lin Mu said softly, "I’ll make sure you never use them again."

The elder wheezed, mind racing between fear and pride. But pride was a brittle thing beneath absolute domination. With a trembling jaw and a mouth full of blood, he rasped:

"We... we wanted to divine it..."

Lin Mu narrowed his eyes. "Divine what?"

"W-what’s causing the Ephemera Sect to hide... why they suddenly... retreated..."

A cold silence followed.

Daoist Chu raised a brow. Lin Mu tilted his head slightly.

"Aren’t you working together?" Lin Mu asked.

The elder paused, breath ragged. His instincts fought the urge to speak—centuries of secrets pressed against his lips. But the unbearable weight on his chest, the absence of his allies, and the absolute hopelessness of his situation crushed those instincts flat.

He wanted to survive.

Even if it meant betrayal.

"Yes," the man gasped, "yes—we were. Ephemera Sect... Hidden Cave Sect... the Drowned Crescent Cult... and more."

Elyon’s eyes narrowed behind Lin Mu, but he remained silent, watchful.

"We were the remnants," the elder continued, desperation leaking from every word. "The lost sects, the purged cults, those hunted by the righteous path. We’ve been hiding—growing—waiting. For Centuries. Millenniums."

Lin Mu’s foot did not move.

But he listened.

"Then," the elder spat, "the Ephemera Sect returned. For a time, they led us. Their schemes flourished. We believed our moment had come. The world was fractured. Corruption spread like wildfire. We... we even began to win—"

"And then?" Lin Mu asked.

The elder shuddered.

"And then they stopped."

He coughed again, each word scraping through his broken throat.

"They halted everything. Called off plans. Ordered silence. Ordered hiding. No explanations. Just fear. Even among our leaders, no one knew what scared them."

"We only know..." the elder’s lips trembled, "that the Crimson Root Branch... one of their strongest divisions... was destroyed. Erased. Rubble and ruin. No survivors."

Meng Bai raised a brow.

Daoist Chu chuckled.

The elder saw the expressions on their faces—and frowned.

He wasn’t finished.

"We tried to ask. They refused to say. But they were terrified. We could feel it... through their talismans, through the qi of their envoys. They were frightened—something shook them."

"And so," the man coughed a glob of blood, "we tried to find out on our own. The horn... we believed it might hold clues. It’s tied to ancient lines of fate. Perhaps a vision... perhaps an echo."

The elder looked up, eyes pleading now.

"That’s why we came. That’s why we tried."

A beat of silence passed.

Then came the laughter.

Soft at first.

Daoist Chu let out a hearty laugh, slapping his thigh. Beside him, Meng Bai grinned ear to ear, arms crossed.

Elyon blinked. "...What’s so funny?"

Daoist Chu wiped a tear from his eye.

"They went through all this trouble... gathered their fallen allies... sacrificed their men... and they still didn’t know."

"Know what?" Elyon asked.

Daoist Chu pointed casually to Lin Mu, who remained expressionless as always.

"That the one who annihilated the Crimson Root Branch... is standing on him right now."

The elder froze.

Time seemed to stop.

His mind reeled back—images flashing in rapid succession.

The compressed earth where Crimson Root once stood.

The flattened towers.

The crushed bodies.

Not burned. Not sliced. Not frozen.

Crushed.

His eyes widened, then trembled.

Now, he understood.

The same feeling. The same gravity.

It wasn’t an army. It wasn’t a plague. It wasn’t divine punishment.

It was him.

This man. This monster.

Lin Mu had crushed the Crimson Root Branch like he had crushed this outpost. Without raising his voice. Without summoning an army.

Just himself.

"He... it was you..." the elder whispered.

He looked at Lin Mu as if seeing him for the first time.

Not as a man.

But as a calamity.

"We... we never had a chance..." he choked. "From the start... we were doomed..."

Lin Mu finally stepped off the man’s chest. A small mercy.

But it changed nothing.

.