My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1018 - 1020: Duhu Again

Mugu finally attained the shore, laying eyes upon solid ground once more. A unrestrained laugh escaped him, followed swiftly by his knees buckling, causing him to drop onto the sand. He pressed his hands into the earth, a desperate confirmation that it was real and not another cruel deception conjured by the sea.

After a brief respite, he sat up and commenced redrawing the map that the old woman had bestowed upon him. Utilizing a small twig, he meticulously etched lines into the sand with slow, deliberate movements.

The act of recollection was effortless. Whether his memory was truly exceptional or if he had fixated on the map to such an extent that it was seared into his mind, the result was the same.

"The Duhu Mountains," he whispered.

The instant the words left his lips, a profound chill permeated Damon's being.

The Duhu Mountains were a subject not to be uttered lightly. It was a domain steeped in dread, governed by peculiar and lethal regulations.

"If you perceive something, then you did not," Damon murmured, echoing a common adage associated with the place.

"My desire is to place my faith in Mugu, truly. However, the Duhu Mountains are an unsavory locale."

Ashcroft offered a subtle, derisive sound.

"He managed to reach it in the end. You genuinely hold no fondness for that place."

"What is there to find agreeable?" Damon retorted, his astral form gliding along in Mugu's wake.

Mugu stood, brushed the clinging sand from his attire, and began his trek inland towards the distant horizon. At his current gait, the journey to the mountains would span nearly two months.

Damon observed him for a time before his eyes narrowed.

"His cultivation has advanced. He is on the cusp of his first-class breakthrough."

He stroked his chin, a contemplative gesture.

"Speaking of which, what is his primary magic attribute?"

"Why not attempt to appraise him and discover the truth?" Ashcroft responded with apparent nonchalance.

Damon made the attempt. The skill failed outright, yielding no result.

He clicked his tongue in vexation, then phased into Mugu's physical form, circulating his own mana directly.

The sensation was markedly different from his own umbral attribute. This power did not strike or consume; rather, it insinuated itself, eroding from within, debilitating its targets.

"Decay," Damon stated softly.

Such was Mugu's inherent attribute.

Its gradual nature rendered it ill-suited for direct confrontation at his present level of cultivation. His mana pool was, at best, unremarkable.

To put it plainly, he was ordinary.

"How could someone so unremarkable exert such a profound influence on the world?" Damon pondered aloud.

Yet, the answer was already known to him.

Mediocrity held sway only over those who embraced it. Mugu, however, never did.

He continued his steady march forward.

Some time later, they arrived at a settlement. It was small, rudimentary, and poorly maintained. The entire region appeared to be under the dominion of minor warlords, a stark contrast to the structured Valtheron Empire that would eventually rise to dominate these lands.

Deeper inland, four formidable houses were locked in perpetual conflict.

From overheard conversations, Mugu identified them as House Brightwater, House Ravenscroft, House Hightower, and House Astranova.

Damon's brow lifted infinitesimally.

"Satisfactory to know my progenitors wielded influence even from the first epoch."

There was no discernible pride in his tone. Those ancestors had been warlords and brigands, contributing to the region's pervasive chaos.

At this juncture, the leaders of these houses were merely fourth-class cultivators, insignificant compared to the might their descendants would achieve in subsequent epochs.

Damon foresaw the inevitable course of events.

These four houses would ultimately be subjugated and unified by House Valtheron, originating from the Doom Continent. From this consolidation, the formidable Valtheron Empire would emerge.

"This must be the consequence of the world uniting against Mugu," Damon surmised.

"Indeed," Ashcroft affirmed.

"Does it not align with your grand expectations? The past is a truly abysmal era. And following this epoch's conclusion, the second was even more dire, creating a sensation akin to inhabiting a world already thrice-shattered. Every epoch culminates in a cataclysmic conflict. Subsequent generations dedicate their lives to mending the devastation, only to fracture it anew, bequeathing it in an even more lamentable state," Ashcroft lamented, a distinct irritation colouring his words.

He crossed his arms, averted his gaze, his jaw set firmly.

"My aspiration was to disrupt that destructive cycle. Alas, my efforts were in vain. I had entertained the notion of earning the goddess's favour."

"Referring to her as the demon god's consort was an exceptionally effective method to incur her wrath," Damon retorted with a sardonic twist of his lips.

"The objective was to capture her attention. I stood on the precipice of world conquest, and still, she remained unmoved. It was a calculated risk," Ashcroft stated with a dismissive gesture, as if Damon ought to comprehend.

Damon did not.

"My interest lies more with the world from which you originated," he countered, a current of curiosity entering his voice.

"Nothing remarkable. Merely another world teetering on the brink of collapse. At the very least, this one possesses magic."

Damon emitted a soft, derisive sound.

The following day, Mugu navigated the town, making inquiries about the Duhu Mountains.

The majority of inhabitants refused to engage, their faces clouding over at the mere mention of the name. Some turned away abruptly, while others offered hushed prayers before departing. Mugu, however, remained undeterred.

Eventually, he encountered an individual willing to impart information.

By the time the man concluded his account, Mugu's countenance had drained of all colour.

The Duhu Mountains presented more than a mere obstacle to overcome; they were a realm from which few, if any, ever returned.

The sole alternative lay in traversing the domain governed by House Brightwater, a region now under a strict blockade. However, this option offered no true escape. A volatile mana anomaly had been festering there for the past five years, its intensity escalating with each passing season. Foremost experts predicted it would require several more years before the phenomenon finally stabilized.

Mugu found himself critically positioned between two certain deaths.

To venture into a land governed by irrational rules and sheer terror.

Or to face a cataclysmic natural disaster that would undoubtedly obliterate him.

His hands clenched into fists. Having endured the harrowing ordeal at sea, the mere thought of confronting such a similar threat again caused his stomach to churn violently.

A full day elapsed before he could make his decision.

Then, with resolute determination, he made his choice.

He would brave the treacherous Duhu Mountains.

"I'd rather perish within the mana anomaly itself," Damon vocalized with a groan.

Yet, the decision was no longer his to make.

All he could do now was steel himself for the inevitable onslaught he knew was coming.

He resolved to distance himself from Mugu’s physical form as much as possible. Experiencing the horrors of the Duhu Mountains once more through a more fragile vessel would be far more agonizing.

Two months drifted by.

A full year had now passed since this prolonged ordeal commenced for both Damon and Mugu.

And as if mocking fate with a cruel twist of irony, Damon discovered himself once again ensnared within Mugu’s body, gazing at the distant, imposing silhouette of the Duhu Mountains piercing the horizon.

From the recesses of his mind, Ashcroft's voice echoed with a dry chuckle.

"Best of luck."

Luck? He had no need for such trivialities.

He was Damon Grey, after all.

How could a mere mountain possibly impede his progress?

He knew the peculiar, unwritten laws of this perilous place.

'See something? Pretend you didn't.'

'Hear something? It never happened.'

'If it feels like something is breathing right beside you, rest assured, it's miles away.'

'If the breathing feels distant, it's practically on top of you.'

Damon recited these edicts under his breath, akin to a prayer he held no faith in, yet dared not dismiss.

'Whatever you do, do not move during the night...'

And with these cryptic instructions firmly in mind, Damon plunged into the Duhu Mountains once more.

Except, this time, the entry was through Mugu's consciousness.

During his previous passage, he hadn't been entirely alone. His companions, though green, boisterous, and perpetually terrified, had been present. They had shared the collective weight of his fear. They had been an integral part of the fortitude that allowed him to endure.

Now, he was utterly solitary.

As he stepped into the oppressive shadow cast by the dense mountain forest, another crucial rule surfaced in his thoughts.

Always remain on the established mountain path.

Damon's footsteps faltered.

There was no discernible path.

The very rule that had once served as his safeguard was rendered obsolete here. The trail had yet to be forged. The Duhu Mountains remained untamed, untouched by human hands. Before him lay only an endless expanse of dense woodland and treacherous, uneven terrain.

And directly in his way, precisely where the path ought to have been...

An entity stood sentinel.

It resembled a myriad of strands resembling women's hair, rising unnaturally from the earth, swaying gently despite the utter stillness of the air. It possessed no discernible feet, no face, no form that his mind could adequately comprehend.

It simply existed there.

Observing him.

Damon had witnessed unimaginable horrors throughout his life, but this...

His eyes began to water inexplicably. A profound sense of dread washed over him, settling deep within his stomach. Every strand of hair on his body prickled with an intense sensation.

It was undeniably fixated on him.

He couldn't ascertain which was the greater peril: retreating or pressing onward. To turn back would signify that he had perceived it, acknowledged its presence.

Then, one of the hair-like appendages lifted, unmistakably pointing at him like an accusatory finger.

It spoke, its voice a chilling whisper.

"You will turn back."

For any ordinary individual, this command would have been sufficient deterrent.

But Damon was far from ordinary.

And evidently, neither was Mugu.

Damon continued his forward progression.

His pace remained unchanged – neither faster nor slower.

He did not deliberately avert his gaze, yet he avoided focusing intently on the entity. He proceeded as if nothing obstructed his way.

The mass of hair stirred subtly.

"Leave. Turn around."

Damon walked past it, his body rigid with anticipation.

With every single step, he braced for an attack, expecting to be seized from behind, savagely torn apart, or dragged screaming into the depths of the forest.

Yet, nothing occurred.

The entity merely continued its silent vigil as he passed, seemingly perplexed by his unwavering refusal to acknowledge its existence.

Then, the dense canopy of trees closed in, engulfing him.

Soon afterward, mocking laughter began to reverberate from the treeline on either side, a symphony of derision – teasing, playful, and utterly cruel.

Damon felt an almost irresistible compulsion to look.

But the ingrained memory of a rule surfaced.

'Do not look into the tree line.'

And thus, Mugu's perilous journey into the depths of the Duhu Mountains commenced.