Chapter 1287: Alone in the Darkness
Rhuger silently observed the lands ahead from his spot halfway up the solitary mountain. The snaking rivers suspended in the air kept the lands below in a state of perennial dusk, and Rhuger's own Dao of Darkness let him perfectly meld with the surroundings. Even the denizens born in the gloom would have a hard time discovering his presence so long as he remained unmoving.
The source of the pervasive darkness wasn't the waters themselves but rather the streaks of pitch-black mud dragged along their winding routes. Rhuger suspected the Darkness-attuned Spiritual Soil wasn't naturally formed. Judging by its profound ancient aura, the soil had been marked by a powerful treasure.
Following the rivers to their source wouldn't just take him closer to the Starfall Court. It might just lead him to a suitable opportunity. The situation may as well have been tailor-made for him. Had it been his father, he would have already rushed down the mountain, ripping apart anything that stood in his way. His big sister was no different. The capture by an evil entity had done nothing to temper her hunger for the Dao.
Why couldn't he be more like them?
Part of the reason he'd been stuck observing for three days was the distant radiance of the illusory city he came from. It had provided a much-needed breather after weeks of constant peril. That comforting light would move out of sight if he advanced any further. The dark creeping up the mountain slopes should have felt like a different kind of home. To Rhuger, the tendrils looked more like hands grabbing for his throat, ready to drag him to the afterlife.
Why couldn't he see it? Why couldn't he see the possibilities laid out before him? Why couldn't he find any light in the darkness? Others were focused on advancing their cultivation. Rhuger was held hostage by the knowledge that the reward for passing this region was coming face to face with another threat.
There was no telling how many such zones he'd have to cross to reach the distant pillar. Few would be as accommodating as the fields draped in the color of his Dao. The situation was an apt parable to cultivation. There was no hump to cross before reaching calm waters. The road of cultivation was a stormy sea without end, and Rhuger was becoming tired of rowing.
It was always the same. Rhuger understood that the others didn't relish the slaughter of the war or facing the malignant madness of the Imperial Graveyard. However, they had managed to use the flames of tribulation to temper themselves. Meanwhile, Rhuger felt every brush with death chip away at his sanity.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd sat alone in the darkness, hands shaking while the horrors of war replayed in his mind. Becoming nauseated from the smell of blood that refused to leave his fur. Rather than rising up like the true heroes of the Empire, Rhuger had been swept forward with the rest of the soldiers. He'd kept fighting, hoping to live up to the expectations brought by his talents. Or perhaps by the talents of his predecessor, Cervantes.