Walker Of The Worlds Chapter 3064: Use Is Not Over

The elder lay limp now—not dead, but defeated in soul.

Daoist Chu looked over. "Do you want to finish him?"

Lin Mu shook his head. "No."

He turned his back on the man.

"Let him carry the weight of what he now knows and bear all his knowledge to us."

The pressure in the air faded slightly, though it never vanished. Even with the battle over, Lin Mu’s presence remained—like an invisible mountain hovering just above them all.

Elyon could only watch silently.

"He didn’t kill them for answers," the wolfkin realized. "He gave them a chance—and they still shattered."

He looked at Lin Mu’s solemn figure and clenched his claws tighter.

There was no need for exaggeration.

The man standing before them was not just strong.

He was a storm in human form.

And the world would never be the sa once it truly noticed

The battlefield still reeked of blood and crushed bone, the echo of Lin Mu’s gravity-powered strike lingering in the air like the hum of a mourning bell.

The few survivors—barely clinging to consciousness—were strewn about like broken dolls. The remnants of the Hidden Cave Sect forces, once hidden deep in the underground fortress, had been reduced to a handful of whimpering figures.

Their limbs twisted, their bodies flattened in parts, and their eyes filled with terror.

Elyon glanced at them with mild pity, but even more so with disbelief. He hadn’t expected Lin Mu to unleash such a devastating display of force. He’d seen powerful immortals before, even fought against them in skirmishes, but what Lin Mu had done was sothing else entirely.

Killing a few immortals was one thing. Crushing hundreds under sheer gravitational pressure? That bordered on the divine.

Still, Lin Mu remained calm.

Lin Mu turned to the remaining survivors—perhaps a dozen, barely alive.

Elyon took a step forward. "They won’t live long. Even with pills, they’ll bleed out or die from internal damage. If you want answers—"

"It’s fine," Lin Mu interrupted. "I’ll fix them."

"Fix them?" Elyon echoed, confused.

Lin Mu raised one hand and began to chant softly.

It was not in any tongue Elyon recognized, but the mont the words reached his ears, sothing deep in his blood stirred. A warm wind—impossible in the cold, dark caves—swept around them. Then, green motes of light began to form, like fireflies drifting out of Lin Mu’s skin.

The aura changed.

Gone was the terrifying pressure of his gravity Dao. Gone was the steely sharpness of the Sword Dao. In its place was sothing profoundly different—pure, clean, holy.

Natural.

Elyon’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t just healing... it was life.

Raw, unfiltered, nurturing life.

His Wolfkin bloodline quivered, almost as if it were awakening. For the first ti in centuries, it felt joy. A deep-rooted joy like a wolf returning to its ho after a long journey, to a forest that recognized and accepted it.

’No,’ Elyon realized. ’Not joy. Companionship.’

Lin Mu... was the forest.

Green streams of energy flowed into the wounded cultists, wrapping around their broken forms.

Bones shifted.

Organs nded. Blood slowed and stopped.

Their pain began to dull, and their eyes grew clearer. But Lin Mu didn’t heal them fully—he left their limbs broken, their bodies unable to move. Only their lives were stabilized, just enough to speak, to think, to suffer.

Plants sprouted all around Lin Mu—ferns, moss, and vines, growing out of the rocky cave floor as if ti had been sped up. They curled toward him lovingly, wrapping around his legs and arms like children clinging to their father.

In that mont, he was no longer a force of devastation.

He was a nurturer.

A protector.

A god of the forest.

Elyon stared, unable to tear his eyes away.

The duality stunned him. Just minutes ago, this man had wielded gravity like a guillotine, wiping out hundreds with a thought. Now he was cradling life in his hands, healing what was broken—choosing to preserve it not out of kindness, but because he willed it.

A man who commanded the sword, warped space, defied elents, and bent gravity...

And now... could breathe life into the dying.

Elyon felt a chill run down his spine, not from fear, but from awe.

’Just who are you, Lin Mu?’ he wondered.

’And how much more is there yet to see?’

The green glow faded gently, its warmth lingering on the bodies of the dying cultists like a mother’s parting embrace.

Life had returned to them—but only just.

Lin Mu stood in the center of the now-lush cavern, vines curling at his feet, moss spreading beneath him like a carpet of reverence. His hand fell to his side, his chant complete.

But he wasn’t done.

With a flick of his fingers, threads of vibrant-red energy surged from his body.

Vitality—raw and overpowering—poured forth in thin tendrils, stabbing into the hearts of the unconscious survivors. The force of it was like thunder wrapped in honey: warm, yet impossible to resist.

One by one, the remaining cultists spasd and coughed awake. Their eyes snapped open in panic, the lingering warmth of Lin Mu’s Nature aura clashing violently with the fear still lodged deep in their bones.

They saw him.

And trembled.

Two of them scread outright, their minds breaking under the weight of it all, and passed out again. One even began muttering prayers to long-forgotten gods.

Only the old elder—the sa one Lin Mu had interrogated earlier—remained sowhat calm. He breathed slowly through clenched teeth, his mangled body now stabilized enough to sit up.

He looked up at Lin Mu, eyes clouded with both awe and dread.

"...Why?" the elder asked hoarsely. "Why heal us? After what you did, why not finish it?"

Lin Mu’s eyes held no malice, but neither did they show rcy. His voice was calm, quiet even—but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.

"Your use is not over yet."

The elder’s breath caught.

He understood imdiately.

There was no room for silence now. He knew better than to resist, and with a weary sigh, he began to speak.