Chapter 74: Tracking

She no longer hesitated, ignoring the roaring warnings of Isayat’s voice in her mind.

Like an arrow released from a bowstring, silent yet carrying a resolute will, she followed.

Lowering her center of gravity, she hid her silhouette within the deep shadows cast by the meticulously cultivated giant potted plants and grotesquely shaped decorative sculptures lining the corridor.

Every step was light and precise; her toes touched the ground with almost no sound, like a ghost lurking in the silence.

This corridor was far longer and more tortuous than she had initially imagined.

The grandeur and luxury felt in the banquet hall earlier now seemed like just the tip of the iceberg; the internal structure of this building was clearly as deep as a labyrinth, seemingly endless.

The texture of the carpet beneath her feet also quietly changed, transitioning from the complex brocade and dazzling silk of the banquet hall to a heavier, denser dark velvet.

They were like greedy sponges, completely swallowing and absorbing even her slightest footsteps, adding a layer of deathly oppression to the long passage.

Not only that, but the style of the paintings hanging on the walls underwent an unsettling transformation as she ventured deeper.

At first, there were a few extravagant scrolls consistent with the banquet hall’s atmosphere, depicting demonic feasts or exotic landscapes with rich colors and bold strokes.

But the further in she went, the darker and more somber the tones of those paintings became, the themes turning obscure and filled with unutterable eeriness and distortion.

In their place were massive, ancient-framed portraits.

The identities of the figures in the paintings were unknown; they wore long-outdated clothing, their faces blurred in the dim light.

Only their eyes seemed to possess a certain wicked vitality, piercing through the limitations of the canvas with a scrutinizing chill that felt nearly physical, locking onto every person who passed.

That gaze was not a benevolent look, but more like a hunter evaluating prey—cold, picky, and filled with undisguised contempt and malice.

Every time she inadvertently met the eyes in those paintings, she felt a chill surge from her tailbone, racing up her spine to the back of her neck, triggering a wave of fine tremors.

She subconsciously quickened her pace, her heart thumping dully in her chest, each pulse accompanied by a growing sense of unease.

The surrounding light seemed to grow dimmer, with only green-glowing wall lamps hanging at intervals to barely illuminate the path ahead, stretching the shadows of the sculptures and plants even longer and more distorted, as if they might come to life at any moment.

She carefully followed the figure ahead, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

The woman seemed completely unaware of the pursuit, her pace maintaining a steady and slightly stiff rhythm, neither fast nor slow, as if executing a pre-set program.

This deepened the suspicion in Ling Xiya’s heart.

A normal person walking in such a secluded corridor would be somewhat alert, yet she was… too calm, eerily calm.

The further she walked, the air was no longer ordinary and fresh, but instead quietly permeated with a Strange Fragrance.

Upon first scent, it wasn’t repulsive but rather carried an unutterable cloying sweetness, mixed with the richness of a flower she had never identified.

That sweetness wasn’t the purity of honey, but rather like some overripe berry—thick enough to be sticky, even slightly nauseating.

The floral scent was crisp yet carried a hint of distant mystery, as if from a deep valley orchid, but with more elusive exoticism than an orchid.

They intertwined, forming a unique and highly seductive aura, like an invisible net gently wrapping around her.

However, the moment this seemingly harmless scent was inhaled into her nose, it was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, rippling a subtle but undeniable abnormality in her heart.

An extremely faint sense of dizziness, like a mist, quietly approached, making her once-clear thoughts feel as if they were covered by a thin veil, and her reactions seemed half a beat slower.

“Not good!” Ling Xiya’s internal alarm bells rang.

She instinctively held her breath.

Though the momentary dizziness was faint, it was enough to make her realize this scent was by no means ordinary; unknown dangers might be lurking behind it.

She dared not be careless any longer, cautiously opening only a tiny sliver between her lips for minimal ventilation.

Every breath was shallow, for fear of inhaling any more of that eerie sweet scent.

She stopped, listening intently, trying to catch more clues from the deepening darkness and the Strange Fragrance.

She felt a slight, faint throbbing at her temples—a sign that the dizziness was attempting to further corrode her nerves.

Ling Xiya gritted her teeth inwardly, forcing herself to focus, her sharp gaze scanning the blurry darkness ahead.

This scent was too overbearing; even though she was being so careful, the cloying temptation and subsequent dizziness followed her like a shadow.

It wasn’t immediate like a potent poison that brought intense pain, but rather like a chronic narcotic, wrapping a fatal core in a sweet exterior, causing one to let down their guard unknowingly and ultimately sink.

Ling Xiya took a deep breath, though it brought a deeper wave of vertigo, she knew she couldn’t retreat now.

She had to find the source of this scent as quickly as possible or burst out of the area shrouded by it.

The path beneath her feet seemed to become somewhat slippery, and in addition to the cloying scent, there seemed to be a faint, lingering dampness in the air.

She lightened her steps, like a wary night cat prowling in the dark.

She realized she was venturing deeper and deeper into the inner reaches of the Banquet Grounds, an area Isayat had never allowed her to set foot in.

The guards here were actually far fewer than on the outskirts; she had encountered almost no patrolling Monster Guards, which in itself was highly abnormal.

“Where exactly is she going?” Ling Xiya’s heart was full of questions.

The figure ahead continued at an unhurried pace, turning corner after corner.

Ling Xiya’s heart beat faster and faster as an inexplicable sense of unease began to sprout within her.

She started to feel something was wrong.

This route… seemed too smooth.

Though complex, there were no obstacles, as if this path were specifically “guiding” her.

A terrifying thought suddenly burst into her mind: “Could it be… she’s letting me follow her on purpose?”

This thought made her stiffen, her feet coming to a subconscious halt.

She looked around warily; the deep corridor was so quiet she could only hear her own heartbeat.

The silhouette ahead stopped at that moment as well, pausing at the next corner as if waiting for something.

Ling Xiya’s heart leaped into her throat.

She hid behind a giant vase carved with skulls, staring intently at the back of the figure.

She saw the woman tilt her head slightly.

Though she could only see a blurry profile, Ling Xiya felt as if the other person’s gaze pierced through the corner, landing exactly where she was hiding.

Was it an illusion? Or…

Just as she was caught in suspicion and uncertainty, debating whether to retreat immediately, the figure ahead moved again, slowly turning the corner and vanishing from sight.