Later that night, Lin Mu stood alone again on the cliff beside the Jade Echo Retreat, the sa place he had often ditated, drank tea, and stared into the stars.
And yet tonight, the stars seed to shine more clearly. As if they, too, now looked at him differently.
The wind brushed through his robes, and the sheath on his back vibrated faintly in response, the sound barely a whisper.
"Shelter all blades..." Lin Mu murmured. "And walk without edge."
His hands moved on their own, forming the sword seal he had perfected long ago. But now, as he drew a finger through the air, the stroke carried sothing new. A serenity. A sharpness without aggression.
The air itself bent slightly around his motion, responding not to his will—but to his intent.
From within the sheath on his back, he felt Afternoon Pine and Ocean Raker stir gently, as if in ditation. Not eager to be drawn, not thirsting for battle.
But waiting.
Ready.
"So this is the path you want to walk," Lin Mu whispered.
He chuckled softly. "You’re just like ."
He rembered all the tis he had walked alone. Carried things alone. Chosen solitude not out of pride, but necessity. He had carried a kingdom’s hopes, a master’s teachings, and a legacy of cultivation that ca from countless sacrifices.
And now...
He carried a sheath.
Not just to hold swords—but to protect them. Nurture them. Shelter them when no one else would.
Sowhere far below, within the sect’s main courtyard, disciples continued to whisper rumors of his return. So had seen the fracture in the sky.
Others had heard the na: Sword Cradle Divine Sheath.
And all of them had felt the weight of sword intent that had blanketed the sect just a day ago.
"What kind of sheath causes the sky to break?"
"He returned riding the edge of a sword..."
"I heard the Patriarch himself declared him heir to sothing. Sothing ancient."
"Do you think he’s... the successor of the Founder?"
In the night, questions stirred like wind in the grass.
But up on the cliff, Lin Mu did not listen.
He rely sat, tea in hand, as the clouds rolled by.
The sword had chosen him.
And in turn, he had chosen to be its cradle.
The next morning dawned quietly over the Xian Sword Sect, the sky once more a calm blue after the unprecedented events of the day before.
Though whispers still ran rampant through the disciples and murmurs filled the inner halls, the highest peaks of the sect remained still—solemn and untouched by the storm of speculation below.
It was from one such lofty peak that Lin Mu received a summons.
Unlike the usual formal summons to the Grand Council Hall, this one was simple. A ssage delivered by a crane talisman, its voice composed and casual: "Co to the top of the Residential Peak. Bring nothing but yourself."
It was signed by the Sect Patriarch.
Lin Mu stood for a mont on the balcony of the Jade Echo Retreat, holding the fading talisman between his fingers, letting the wind ripple through his robe. He looked toward the very summit above—the part of the mountain even he had never ventured to.
"So... that’s where they live," he murmured.
He had known that the Grand Elder’s residence was above his own retreat, tucked into the mist-veiled heights of the peak. But he hadn’t known that the Sect Patriarch resided there too—hidden away in plain sight all these years.
Without delay, Lin Mu took to the sky, leaping gently from terrace to terrace, each step quiet as moonlight until he reached the summit. What awaited him there was unlike any peak he had seen in the sect.
It was a tranquil garden. Quiet, unassuming. Bonsai trees of ancient age rested on carved pedestals. A koi pond glimred beside a shrine of polished stone. There was no sword aura here, no oppressive qi. Just silence. Just peace.
And at the center of it, seated beneath the boughs of a wind-swept pine, were the Sect Patriarch and Grand Elder Huo.
The Patriarch stood taller than most n Lin Mu had t, his presence unadorned yet unmistakable. He gestured to a stone bench across from them.
"Co. Sit."
Lin Mu bowed respectfully to both n and took his seat.
"I assu this is about yesterday?" he asked.
The Patriarch nodded slowly. "Yes. Yesterday was not the right ti for explanations. The weight of what happened was enough to shake the entire sect. The matter I speak of now is not for all ears—not even the elders who stood beside us then."
Lin Mu straightened, his gaze sharpening.
He had been wondering about the very thing the Patriarch now brought up—the heirship of the Xian Sword Spirit. What did it actually an?
He had inherited a Dao Embryo, yes, but the spirit itself—that great sword in the void—was still separate. What ties bound him to it now?
The Patriarch leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate.
"Since the Spirit of the Sacred Grounds has acknowledged you as its heir... it will now listen to you."
Silence fell, broken only by the faint rustling of pine needles in the breeze.
Lin Mu’s brows furrowed, the implications slowly dawning upon him. "You an to say... I can command it?"
"You can summon it," the Patriarch clarified. "If you are ever in true danger—when your path is blocked, and the sword within you cries out—it will hear you. And it will co."
At this, even Grand Elder Huo stiffened, his one remaining eye widening with disbelief.
"That’s..." the Grand Elder said slowly, "beyond anything I’ve ever heard. Even the Founding Ancestor could only speak to it—he never commanded it from what I’ve heard."
The Patriarch nodded gravely. "That is the nature of what has happened. You are not rely a successor to a legacy, Lin Mu. You are now the voice of the Xian Sword Spirit."
Lin Mu’s breath caught in his chest.
User Comments
0 comments from readers