My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 1018: Chapter 1020: Duhu Again

Mugu finally reached the shore and saw land again. He laughed, the sound breaking out of him without restraint. Then his legs gave way and he dropped to his knees in the sand, both hands pressing into it as if to confirm it was real and not another cruel illusion of the sea.

After a while, he sat back and began to redraw the map the old woman had given him. He used a small stick, carefully tracing lines into the sand with slow, deliberate strokes.

He did not struggle with it. Either his memory was exceptional, or he had stared at that map so often that it had carved itself into his mind.

"The Duhu Mountains," he muttered.

The moment those words left his mouth, Damon felt a chill run through him.

The Duhu Mountains were not spoken of lightly. It was a place of horrors and rules. Strange rules. Deadly rules.

"If you see something, no you do not," Damon muttered.

"I want to believe in Mugu, I really do. It is just that the Duhu Mountains are not a pleasant place."

Ashcroft gave a faint scoff.

"He made it there eventually. You really do not like that place."

"What is there to like," Damon replied as his astral form drifted after Mugu.

Mugu rose, brushed sand from his clothes, and began walking inland toward the distant horizon. At his current pace, it would take nearly two months to reach the mountains.

Damon watched him for a while, then narrowed his eyes.

"His power has grown. He will soon reach first class advancement."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Speaking of which. What is his magic attribute?"

"Why not appraise him and find out," Ashcroft replied lazily.

Damon tried. The skill failed immediately.

He clicked his tongue in irritation, then slipped into Mugu’s body and circulated his mana directly.

It felt different from his own umbral attribute. This one did not strike or consume. It crept. It eroded. It weakened things from within.

"Decay," Damon said quietly.

That was Mugu’s attribute.

It was not instantaneous, which made it poor in direct combat at his current level. His mana pool was average at best.

In simple terms, he was mediocre.

"How did someone so mediocre change the world so much," Damon wondered aloud.

But he already knew the answer.

Mediocrity only mattered to those who accepted it. Mugu never did.

He kept walking.

It was some time before they reached a town. It was small, rough, and poorly maintained. The entire region appeared to be under the control of minor warlords. Nothing like the structured Valtheron Empire that would one day dominate this land.

Farther inland, four powerful houses were constantly at war with each other.

From what Mugu overheard, they were House Brightwater, House Ravenscroft, House Hightower, and House Astranova.

Damon raised a brow slightly.

"Good to know my ancestors have been powerful since the first epoch."

There was no pride in his voice. Those ancestors had been warlords and bandits. They were part of the reason this region was in chaos.

At this time, the leaders of those houses were only in the fourth class. Insignificant compared to what their descendants would become in later epochs.

Damon knew what would happen.

These four houses would eventually be unified by House Valtheron from the Doom Continent. From that union, the Valtheron Empire would rise.

"This must be the result of the world uniting to stop Mugu," Damon said.

"Yes," Ashcroft replied.

"Is it not as glorious as you imagined? The past is a terrible place. And after this era ends, the second was even worse. It felt like living in a world that had already been destroyed once. Every era ends in a great war. The next generation spends its life repairing the damage, only to shatter it again and hand it over in an even worse state," Ashcroft said, irritation bleeding into his voice as he spoke.

He folded his arms and looked away, jaw tight.

"I hoped to break that cycle. Sadly, I failed. I thought I could get on the goddess’s good side."

"Calling her the bride of the demon god was an excellent way to anger her," Damon replied with a sneer.

"The goal was to get her attention. I was on the verge of conquering the world and she still did nothing. It was a gamble," Ashcroft said with a dismissive shrug, as though Damon should understand.

Damon did not.

"I am more interested in the world you came from," he said instead, curiosity slipping into his tone.

"Nothing special. Just another disaster of a world. At least this one has magic."

Damon scoffed softly.

The next day, Mugu went around the town asking about the Duhu Mountains.

Most people refused to speak. Some turned away the moment he mentioned the name. Others muttered prayers under their breath and walked off. But Mugu was persistent.

Eventually, he found someone willing to talk.

By the time the man finished speaking, Mugu’s face had gone pale.

The Duhu Mountains were not simply a path to be crossed. They were a place people entered and never returned from.

The only alternative was to pass through the territory controlled by House Brightwater, who had placed a blockade around the region. And even that path was no salvation. A violent mana anomaly had been forming there for the past five years, growing worse with time. Experts believed it would take several more years before it settled.

Mugu stood caught between two deaths.

Walk into a land of horrors and rules that made no sense.

Or step into a natural disaster that would tear him apart.

He clenched his fists. After surviving the calamity at sea, the thought of facing something similar again made his stomach twist.

He waited a full day before deciding.

Then he set his jaw and chose.

He would brave the Duhu Mountains.

"I would rather die in the mana anomaly," Damon groaned.

But it was no longer his choice.

All he could do now was brace himself for what he knew was coming.

He resolved to stay out of Mugu’s body as much as possible. It would be far worse to experience the Duhu Mountains again through a weaker vessel.

Two months passed.

It had been a full year since this ordeal began for both Damon and Mugu.

And as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, Damon found himself trapped inside Mugu’s body once more, staring at the distant silhouette of the Duhu Mountains rising against the horizon.

In the back of his mind, Ashcroft chuckled.

"Good luck."

Luck? He did not need luck.

He was Damon Grey.

How could a mere mountain stop him?

He knew the rules of this place.

’If you see something, no you didn’t.’

’If you hear something, no you did not.’

’If something feels like it is breathing next to you, it is probably far, far away.’

’If the breathing feels far away, it is right next to you.’

Damon repeated the rules under his breath like a prayer he did not believe in but dared not forget.

’Do not move at night...’

And with that, Damon entered the Duhu Mountains once more.

Except this time, he entered as Mugu.

Last time, he had not been alone. His companions had been inexperienced, loud, and frightened—but they had been there. They had shared the burden of fear with him. They had been part of the reason he could endure.

Now, there was no one.

As he stepped beneath the shadow of the mountain forest, another rule surfaced in his mind.

Always stay on the mountain path.

Damon’s steps faltered.

There was no path.

The rule that had once protected him did not apply here. The trail had not been carved yet. The Duhu Mountains were still wild, untouched. There was only dense forest and uneven ground stretching endlessly ahead.

And right in front of him, where the path should have been...

Something stood there.

It looked like countless strands of women’s hair rising from the ground, swaying slightly though there was no wind. It had no feet. No face. No shape he could properly understand.

It simply stood there.

Watching him.

Damon had seen horrors beyond imagination in his life, but this...

His eyes began to sting. His heart sank into his stomach. Every hair on his body stood on end.

It was looking at him.

He did not know what was worse turning back or continuing forward. If he turned, it would mean he had seen it. Acknowledged it.

Then a strand lifted. What might have been an arm pointed at him.

It spoke.

"You turn around."

For anyone else, that would have been enough.

But Damon was not anyone else.

And apparently, neither was Mugu.

Damon walked forward.

Not faster. Not slower.

He did not avert his gaze, but he did not focus on it either. He walked as though nothing stood there at all.

The hair writhed gently.

"Leave. Turn around."

Damon walked past it.

Every step, he expected something to grab him. To tear into him from behind. To drag him screaming into the forest.

Nothing happened.

It only continued to watch as he passed, as though confused by his refusal to acknowledge its existence.

Then the trees swallowed him.

Soon, jeering laughter began to echo from the tree line on both sides. Mocking. Playful. Cruel.

Damon felt the urge to look.

But he remembered.

’Do not look into the tree line.’

And so, Mugu’s journey through the Duhu Mountains began.