151: Chapter 151 Remains in the Secret Realm

After the Iron-Armored Rhinoceros incident, Lin Xuan's travel strategy changed completely.

He no longer walked in a straight line.

He zig-zagged along the boundary between the ridgeline and the river valley, using the terrain to conceal his form.

He only traveled for three shichen each day, using the remaining time to scout the terrain ahead and Cultivate.

His speed slowed down significantly. Originally expected to reach the Nine-Story Stone Tower in ten days, now it would take at least thirteen.

But it was much safer.

For three consecutive days, aside from a few first-tier mid or Low Grade Yao Beasts that he avoided in advance, he encountered no dangers above the second tier.

Those few second-tier Vajra Talismans lay securely in his Storage Pouch, unused since.

At noon on the fourth day, Lin Xuan encountered a corpse at the edge of a small grove.

To be precise, it was more than half a corpse.

From the waist down, it was gone.

The break was jagged, not a clean cut from a Sharp Weapon, but as if it had been forcibly torn off by some kind of Yao Beast's teeth.

The flesh was rolled back, a section of the spine protruded from the break, and deep tooth marks were left on the bone fragments.

The remaining upper body lay on the grass, one hand still maintaining a posture of crawling forward.

The fingers were curled into claws, digging into the soil, gouging out five deep furrows.

These furrows extended from the body's position to the edge of the small grove, about three zhang long, with the soil at the edges turned up, mixed with broken grass leaves and dark red bloodstains.

The other hand was missing.

Where the shoulder should have been, there was only a bloody hole, with signs of gnawing around the edges.

The flesh at the wound had turned black, and several black beetles the size of fingernails were crawling in and out of the hole, making faint clicking sounds.

The Dharma robe on the corpse was too tattered to discern its original color, but judging from the texture of the remaining fabric and the traces of array patterns on the edges, it was at least a High Grade Dharma robe.

Lin Xuan crouched beside the corpse, silent for a dozen breaths.

The Herb-Seeking Mouse poked its head out from his shoulder, sniffed toward the corpse, then shrank back, burying its face in his collar and letting out a low whimper.

Lin Xuan reached out to press on its back and stood up.

He bypassed the corpse and continued walking north.

Over the next two days, he saw two more corpses.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the second one was in a mountain hollow.

The corpse was already highly decomposed, its flesh turned into dark brown slime that had seeped into the soil, revealing the white bones underneath.

No fatal wound was visible, but judging from the scattered Magical Artifact fragments and exploded Talisman residue, it should have been that he died from severe wounds after a life-and-death battle with a Yao Beast.

Lin Xuan picked up a broken Flying Sword fragment beside the corpse.

The fragment was only the size of a palm, the edge chipped, and the array pattern on the sword body had exploded halfway through being carved—this indicated that the Flying Sword had shattered during battle, not destroyed after the fight.

He flipped the fragment over; the character "Zhou" was carved on the back, the handwriting sloppy, as if carved in a hurry.

He placed the fragment back where it was, not taking it.

The third one he saw on the sixth day was the most miserable.

It was hanging in the canopy of an Ironwood tree, two zhang above the ground.

Lin Xuan saw a mass hanging in the canopy from afar, and only upon getting closer did he see clearly that it was a person.

The corpse was intact, all four limbs present, but there was not a single unbroken bone in the entire body—the arms were bent backward at an impossible angle, the leg bones protruded from the knees, the white bone spurs piercing through the fabric of the Dharma robe.

The entire person looked like a puppet that had been crushed and then hung up, hanging limp between several thick branches.

The Dharma robe was intact, the Storage Pouch was still tied to the waist, and even the Magical Artifact was inserted into the scabbard at the waist.

It had never even been drawn.

This meant that when he was killed, he didn't even have a chance to resist.

Lin Xuan stood under the canopy for a long time.

He recognized the style of that Dharma robe—although it was crumpled into a ball and faded by tree sap and rain, the cloud embroidery on the cuffs was still there.

That cloud pattern was embroidered with silver thread, the stitches fine, with three rice-sized blue beads at the end of the cloud pattern; the surfaces of the beads had fine cracks, but they were still faintly glowing.

The emblem of Bibo City.

This person must have been one of the first batch of Loose Cultivators recruited to scout the path.

Lin Xuan remembered very clearly that at the edge of the vortex, when the Golden Core elder from Bibo City called for scouts, seven people stood out. A bald man, a Thin Tall Man, a middle-aged woman, a hunched old man, and three others whose faces he hadn't seen clearly.

He didn't know which of the seven this corpse was.

But he knew that the remaining six were likely in grave danger as well.

Lin Xuan withdrew his gaze, took the Storage Pouch, and continued on his way.

Every time he saw a corpse, he silently reminded himself: This is a Secret Realm, not a Sect.

Without the protection of a Sect, without the constraints of rules, if you die, you die, and there isn't even anyone to collect your body.

But at the same time, he also discovered another pattern.

The locations where these corpses appeared were distributed within a range of about two or three days' journey from the light pillar.

Further out, he had walked for four full days without seeing a single remain; and the closer to the light pillar, the denser the traces of dead people became.

This showed that the vast majority of Cultivators were rushing toward the central area.

And all of them had encountered fatal dangers on this road.

Those with bad luck died under the claws of Yao Beasts, and those with even worse luck didn't even know how they died.

On the seventh day, Lin Xuan saw living people.

At that time, he was moving along the west side of a ridgeline.

The rocks under his feet were weathered and pitted, covered with a layer of grayish-white lichen, rustling when stepped on.

On the other side of the ridge was a gentle slope, with sparse low shrubs growing on the slope, the leaves of the shrubs dark green with jagged edges.

Two figures were walking down from the gentle slope.

The distance was about two hundred zhang, and he could see their outlines but not their faces.

One was wearing a dark Dharma robe, not tall, his shoulders leaning slightly to the left when walking.

The other was wearing grey short attire, carrying a round shield on his back, with dents left by knocks on the shield surface.

The other side obviously also discovered him.

The two figures stopped at the same time.

Lin Xuan stood still without moving. His right hand hung at his side, and the Thunder-Striking Thorn in his sleeve slid into his palm.

The cold touch came from his palm, the anti-slip texture on the hilt pressing against his fingertips, rough and solid.

The person in the dark Dharma robe on the other side looked toward him for a few breaths.

Then the two exchanged a glance and turned to walk away.

Not running, but walking—their strides were even, their speed neither fast nor slow, occasionally turning their heads to talk, as if discussing something trivial.

Lin Xuan waited for a quarter of an hour after they had walked far away before continuing on his way.

He noticed that the footprints of those two were very shallow, with even strides, not the kind of uneven marks that people fleeing for their lives would leave behind.