Walker Of The Worlds - Chapter 2723

2723  A Foul Source

Hours passed as the disciples were carefully selected and examined for traces of the malignant energy.

"This one, this one, and all of these," the Abbot declared, his brows furrowing deeper with every passing moment. "And there are more..." His voice took on a grim weight. "Now that I’ve examined a few, I can sense the others directly."

A tense silence followed his words.

"So many!?" The Grand Elder gasped, unable to hide his shock.

The number of affected disciples was staggering. The Abbot had pointed out tens of thousands among those present. Roughly twenty percent of the entire sect had been marked. A revelation so disturbing that even the most composed elders felt an icy chill run down their spines.

"What exactly is wrong with them, Abbot?" The Grand Elder’s voice wavered with anxious urgency.

"I still cannot determine the precise nature of this affliction," the Abbot admitted. "But it is a vile, unnatural energy. A corrupting force. Most cultivators would struggle to perceive it, for it blends seamlessly with their Qi. However, my Buddhist techniques allow me to sense its presence distinctly."

Lin Mu narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities.

"Abbot, may I attempt to sense it as well?" he asked.

The Abbot turned his gaze toward Lin Mu, curiosity flickering in his wise old eyes.

"By all means," he said, intrigued. "I, too, am eager to witness your skills firsthand."

Lin Mu gave a small nod before closing his eyes. His lips parted as he began to chant the Calming Heart Sutra.

The effects were immediate and profound.

A wave of tranquil energy spread outward, saturating the air itself. The disciples and elders nearby felt an inexplicable serenity settle over them, washing away anxiety and fear. Even the seasoned monks found themselves momentarily lost in the profound peace of the chant.

The Abbot’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

"Such a profound Sutra..." he whispered. "How have I never heard of it?"

Driven by instinct, he attempted to replicate Lin Mu’s chant, only to falter within seconds. A barrier he could not comprehend prevented him from speaking the words.

"Amitabha..." the Abbot murmured, shaken. "Such a restriction... What manner of cultivation does one require to wield this power?"

For someone of his standing, a Seventh Tribulation Stage Buddhist master well-versed in ancient scriptures, this was an impossibility. And yet, Lin Mu had done it effortlessly.

A golden glow radiated from Lin Mu’s body, a shimmering aura of undeniable purity. It spread outward, affecting the monks around him.

A sudden resonance took hold.

The Buddhist monks, as if caught in an unseen current, instinctively closed their eyes. Their own Buddhist energies flared in harmony, as though Lin Mu’s chant had awakened something deep within them.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The ringed staff in the Abbot’s hand suddenly chimed with a will of its own. It trembled violently, the metal rings clashing together as if responding to some unseen force.

"You should put that away, Abbot," Monk Hushu advised, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Or you may find yourself without it."

The Abbot hesitated but heeded the warning, swiftly storing the sacred staff away.

12:56

’That staff has been in our temple for eleven generations of abbots. Over a hundred thousand years... And yet, it was ready to leave me? Just who is this man?’

The Grand Elder, the First Elder, and many of the gathered cultivators were equally shaken.

Lin Mu was no ordinary cultivator—that much was clear. But the depth of his power, the sheer breadth of his abilities... it was unfathomable.

A minute passed.

Lin Mu, fully immersed in his technique, focused his senses. The chant of the Calming Heart Sutra acted as a guiding force, illuminating the hidden malice within the afflicted disciples.

And then—

He found it.

A single drop of foul energy.

It slithered within the Qi of each infected disciple, a putrid ocher substance, like festering pus oozing from an unseen wound. Individually, each droplet was insignificant—a speck compared to the vast reserves of Qi within their bodies.

And yet, that minuscule presence was enough to warp their minds.

Lin Mu clenched his fists. He recalled the reports—disciples attacking their peers over minor provocations, uncharacteristic fits of rage, irrational behavior bordering on madness.

This was the cause.

But what was it?

"Curse of Pestilence."

Lin Mu’s eyes snapped open as Xukong’s voice resonated in his mind.

"You recognize this, Senior?" Lin Mu asked internally.

"Indeed," Xukong’s tone was grave. "This is the Cursed Energy of Pestilence. A vile, insidious form of Baleful Energy. It latches onto Qi, corrupting its flow without immediate detection. Its victims do not realize their affliction until it is far too late."

A cold weight settled in Lin Mu’s chest.

"How did this infiltrate the sect?" he pressed.

Xukong’s reply was chilling.

"There is only one explanation. The source of this curse is within the sect. While Pestilent Baleful Energy can naturally manifest in places plagued by disease and death, Cursed Energy must be created. Someone—or something—brought this here."

Lin Mu’s mind raced. He combed through the events leading to this disaster until a memory surfaced.

"Grand Elder," he spoke firmly, "Do you know the cultivation technique practiced by High Elder Yannan?"

The Grand Elder frowned at the unexpected question but nodded.

"Yes. He practices the Surging Pestilence Water Art, does he not?"

Lin Mu’s eyes sharpened. "And do you know where he obtained it? Is it native to your sect?"

"No," the Grand Elder admitted. "Yannan acquired it long ago during one of his expeditions. He never disclosed the details, only that it was a water-elemental technique."

Lin Mu exhaled sharply. The pieces were falling into place.

"Then that is where we begin," he declared. "There is a high probability that his technique is the origin of this affliction."

The Grand Elder’s expression darkened as realization dawned upon him.

"If what you say is true..." he whispered, dread creeping into his voice, "Then we may have unknowingly doomed ourselves."

Lin Mu’s gaze hardened.

"We must uncover the truth," he said. "Before it’s too late."