For soone without a firm Dao Heart, this would already be terrifying. Many cultivators relied heavily on their senses, on their qi, on the comforting buzz of their soul or the warmth of their sword intent.
Here, none of that could be relied upon.
Only the self remained.
And even that, Lin Mu knew, was about to be tested.
Suddenly—
A glimr.
Far off in the endless void, sothing shimred—a faint white light, as thin as a thread of spider silk.
It flickered once. Then vanished.
Lin Mu opened his eyes fully and stared into the darkness.
"Ah. So we begin."
Lin Mu's eyes narrowed as he stepped toward the flicker of light in the dark expanse. There was no wind, no sound, no pressure—just the silent presence of the 'thing' ahead.
He walked.
One step. Ten. A hundred.
And yet, the light never grew closer. It remained impossibly distant, almost mocking in its stillness. The space around him seed to distort with every motion—like trying to walk through a dream that refused to let you reach the end.
'It's almost like when I spent all that ti in the Astral Dinsion.' Lin Mu thought to himself, a smirk appearing on his face.
Others might have been scared witless experiencing sothing like this. But Lin Mu was soone who had gone through even more nonsensical 'dreams' when he was in the Astral Dinsion.
Compared to those 'nightmares' this was as pleasant as a morning walk beside a lake.
After what felt like hours or seconds—he wasn't sure—Lin Mu slowed and exhaled, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Of course… I was overthinking it."
He looked at the light again, then glanced at his side. His fingers curled around the hilt of Afternoon Pine, the sword humming lightly in response to his touch, as if it too understood.
"This is the Path of the Sealed Sword… I ca here to test my sword, not my legs."
With a smooth motion, he drew the blade.
The silence shattered.
The mont the sword left its sheath, a tremor passed through the void, like a string being plucked. Lin Mu's eyes narrowed as he focused on the distant point of light.
One breath in. One breath out.
Then he struck.
A single slash—clean, deliberate, and impossibly vast. Afternoon Pine's arc shimred with tranquil golden light as it tore through the nothingness.
The slash didn't feel like it traveled. It was already there.
Distance lost aning in the face of intent.
And when the sword light struck the glowing dot, the void exploded.
A burst of radiance swallowed the darkness, blooming outward like a second sun had ignited in that pitch-black sky. For a mont, Lin Mu was blinded. And then, as the light faded—
He stood in a new world.
Gone was the formless plane. Now he was inside what looked like a grand, ancient training hall.
Its walls were stone, its floor marked with deep sword scars. The air humd with sword intent so dense it made his bones ache. It wasn't suffocating, but it was impossibly refined—as if every iota of it had been sharpened over centuries of use.
And in the center of it all…
A single sword floated in the air.
There was no wielder. No pedestal. It simply hovered, suspended perfectly upright, its blade gleaming in the ambient light of the chamber.
It radiated awareness.
Not hostility. Not curiosity. Just… a calm, regal presence.
As though it was watching him in return.
"You're the real first trial," Lin Mu muttered, voice low. "What I saw before was just a gate I needed to open."
He stepped forward, but the sword gave no reaction. It did not twitch. Did not hum. But the pressure in the hall increased subtly. The very air around him sharpened.
This was not just a sword.
It was a will.
A lingering remnant of a cultivator from ages past, condensed into pure sword intent and housed in the weapon that had once served them. A fragnt left behind to test the next generation.
Lin Mu exhaled once more, grounding himself. His boots scraped gently against the floor as he stepped into a loose stance, drawing his other blade—Ocean Raker—to et it fully.
The mont his second sword was drawn—
The floating sword moved.
Not like a weapon being swung, but like a living predator pouncing.
It sliced toward him in a blur of white steel and radiant intent, impossibly fast. Lin Mu's pupils shrank as he tilted his body and caught the strike on Ocean Raker, sending it skidding away with a high-pitched shriek of tal.
It attacked again imdiately, not giving him ti to breathe.
Strike after strike.
Each one perfectly angled. Each one testing a different weakness. It moved like it had fought a thousand battles—and won every single one.
Lin Mu parried, ducked, twisted, and blocked. Sparks flew as steel clashed. The echoes of impact rang out like thunder in a narrow valley.
And all the while, Lin Mu's heart remained steady.
"So… you're testing not just strength… but clarity."
The floating sword had no master.
But it fought with perfect discipline.
It wasn't attacking blindly. It was testing his stance, his rhythm, his understanding.
And Lin Mu understood.
This was a battle of will.
His sword path… against another's legacy.
He adjusted and drew upon the many Sword Styles he had fought against so far, finding the suitable ones.
Afternoon Pine shifted from its initial tranquil rhythm into Rain-Warding Stance, while Ocean Raker circled low in the Tidebreaker Flow. Lin Mu's footwork sharpened, and now his parries began to flow with intent, not just reaction.
The tide shifted.
The floating sword clashed again—and this ti, Lin Mu's counterstrike knocked it upward, sending it spinning through the air before it righted itself again.
Then it stilled.
Hovering once more.
This ti, there was no pressure in the air. No sharpness. Only silence.
And then—without warning—it bowed.
Just a subtle tilt forward.
Lin Mu blinked in surprise. But the ssage was clear.
He had passed.
The sword floated gently down, placing itself into a stone crevice on the far end of the hall—like a soldier returning ho.
Then the light surged again.
And Lin Mu vanished into the next trial.
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