Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3900: Crude Records

Lin Mu’s attention shifted toward several pieces of cloth hanging from rough ropes. The fabric appeared terribly worn and many sections had been patched repeatedly. Several holes had simply been stitched closed using whatever thread someone happened to possess.

Lin Mu gently touched one piece and found it to be far too thin. Even folding it several times would barely provide warmth. Using it as bedding seemed pointless. The prisoners had apparently discovered better uses.

Curtains, bandages, storage bags and some simple coverings for supplies. Nothing remained available in abundance, so every scrap served some purpose. Lin Mu continued deeper into the camp.

Near the back, he finally found something noticeably different. A small corner had been separated from the rest as several thick metal prison bars had been driven into the stone floor and ceiling.

They enclosed a rough square barely large enough for one person. The bars failed to form complete walls and large gaps remained. Even so, the arrangement clearly attempted to create a private space.

And inside, hung a hammock.

Lin Mu slowly approached. One end tied securely around a protruding section of the cave wall. The other wrapped tightly around one of the metal bars. The woven material appeared considerably better preserved than every other piece of cloth he had seen.

Someone had clearly taken care of it.

"This..." Lin Mu quietly observed the surrounding area. "...probably belongs to whoever leads this camp."

Nothing else explained the difference. Everyone else apparently slept upon bare stone or metal doors. One individual enjoyed an actual hammock. This was someone with leadership, some seniority, perhaps just some simple strength.

Regardless of what it meant, the owner clearly held greater authority than everyone else.

Lin Mu searched the enclosed space thoroughly. He expected books, scrolls, maybe some crude maps, or even records. But he found nothing. There was no paper, bamboo slips, jade slips or books.

Nothing capable of preserving information.

He quietly frowned. ’How do they keep track of anything?’

His Immortal Sense spread outward once again. The Baleful Qi Eater Steel consumed nearly half before allowing the remainder to continue. His perception carefully swept through every corner of the camp.

Eventually... Something caught his attention.

Hidden beside several piles of rusted scrap metal, lay what initially appeared to be ordinary stones. They were small and flat, being stacked together. Lin Mu walked over and crouched before the pile.

Only now did he notice something unusual.

Each stone had been deliberately shaped. One surface had been chipped flat, almost like primitive tablets. His curiosity immediately grew and he picked up the uppermost stone.

"What’s this?" Scratched into the flattened surface, crude writing appeared.

Someone had used another rock to carve every character. The handwriting looked hurried and uneven. Occasionally jagged where the stone had slipped. Lin Mu carefully brushed away the dust before reading.

"It has been three pools and eighteen fingernails of time.

I do not know how much longer I can remain alive.

The prisoners here are completely insane.

They stare at people the way hungry wolves stare at wounded prey.

I regret everything.

I regret walking into that village.

I regret killing everyone there.

If I had known this place existed, I would have accepted execution instead."

Lin Mu quietly lowered the stone and his expression became thoughtful. Most of the message made perfect sense. The writer clearly regretted whatever crimes had brought them here.

That hardly surprised him.

The strange part lay elsewhere.

"Three pools..." He quietly repeated. "And eighteen fingernails of time."

The method of measuring time sounded completely unfamiliar.

Pools?

Fingernails?

Neither resembled any calendar he had encountered. Perhaps the prisoners had developed their own system. Or perhaps something within the Mad Demon Depths served as a natural clock.

He filed the question away before reaching toward another stone.

More writing covered its surface.

"Three pools and twenty two fingernails of time.

Something happened today.

One of the walls collapsed.

A new tunnel opened beyond it.

I followed the passage because staying here meant starving anyway.

I found other prisoners.

They frightened me more than the empty tunnels.

They did not look completely mad.

At least not yet.

They only beat me three times before deciding I was too pathetic to kill.

I suppose that counts as good fortune."

Lin Mu blinked slowly.

"...Only beat him three times?" He quietly shook his head.

The writer’s thinking had clearly become distorted. Surviving repeated beatings somehow qualified as good fortune. Living here long enough undoubtedly changed people. He reached for another stone.

Dust covered most of it and after cleaning the surface, another entry appeared.

"Four pools and two fingernails of time.

Someone stole my water.

I tried chasing him.

Five others joined him.

They laughed while they kicked me.

I dreamed about roasted meat afterward.

When I woke up I realized I had been chewing my own sleeve."

Lin Mu remained silent.

’Starvation, dehydration, violence and isolation.’ He went over the information.

Every new entry painted an increasingly bleak picture. The prison itself required remarkably little effort. Eventually, the prisoners destroyed each other. He picked up another stone and saw that this one carried noticeably deeper scratches.

Perhaps the writer had pressed harder or perhaps their emotions had simply overwhelmed them.

"Four pools and seven fingernails of time.

Today I watched a man eat another prisoner’s hand.

He smiled while chewing.

Nobody stopped him.

Nobody cared.

I looked away.

Later I searched the floor after everyone left.

I found two fingers.

I almost ate them.

I still do not know why I threw them away."

Lin Mu slowly placed the stone down but his eyes remained fixed upon it for several moments.

He could tell, the writer had stood upon the edge. Another few days... Another few weeks... Perhaps they would have crossed it completely.

He quietly reached toward the next stone and compared to the previous entries, the handwriting had noticeably changed.

The characters appeared rougher and less controlled. Several lines overlapped, as though the writer’s hands had begun trembling.

Lin Mu read the first few lines.

Then... His brows slowly furrowed.

"A ritual?"

He immediately focused upon the remaining words scratched into the stone.