Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2990: Final Preparations Before Entering The Sacred Grounds

Lin Mu’s brows furrowed slightly as he looked at the old man.

"There is always someone stronger, Lin Mu," the old man continued. "And even the strongest swordsman bleeds if he lets his guard down. This eye reminds me of that every morning when I wake and every evening before I meditate."

Lin Mu’s gaze softened, understanding blooming in his heart.

"It’s a mark of honor then?" he asked.

"No," the Grand Elder said with a wry grin. "It’s a mark of humility. Of survival. Of knowing that the moment you think you’ve reached the peak... is the moment someone cuts you down."

Lin Mu lowered his head respectfully. "Then I won’t mention it again."

"Good," the Grand Elder said, patting him on the shoulder. "Besides, if I ever get too old and useless, maybe then you can restore it for me. Just so I can appreciate the world one last time with two eyes."

"I’ll remember that," Lin Mu said with a faint smile.

The Grand Elder turned and walked back to the ancient sword display. "Now go on. Take another walk or find yourself a spot to cultivate. When the Sacred Grounds calls, you’ll know."

And so, Lin Mu stepped back out into the sun, a bit more thoughtful than before.

Sometimes, the greatest strength wasn’t in what you could heal... but in what you chose not to.

After taking a walk in the sect, Lin Mu decided to return to his room.

The quietude of the Jade Echo Retreat wrapped around Lin Mu like a calming shroud as he finally returned to his room. The white stone walls were bathed in silver moonlight, filtering gently through the arched window that overlooked the distant cloud-veiled mountains.

With a slow exhale, he sank into the meditation seat near the window, his gaze lingering on the horizon where the stars shimmered faintly behind drifting mist.

He reached for the small porcelain teapot on the side table and poured himself a cup of fragrant jadeleaf tea—light, clear, and soothing to the nerves. He took a sip and leaned back, letting the warmth spread through his chest.

The thought had been with him all evening, but now that he was finally alone in the silence of his quarters, it pressed forward with greater weight.

The Sacred Grounds.

The place where the sect’s most profound inheritance was hidden. The legacy meant only for those who had passed through fire, steel, and the edge of their own hearts.

He looked around the room. The shelves were neatly arranged, his equipment was already stored within his spatial ring, and all his weapons and cultivation tools had been polished and honed before the tournament had even begun.

He had reviewed every formation he could possibly use. Every technique he could possibly revise had already been tested. His qi was calm and stable, his Sword Heart sharper than ever, and his body cultivation unshakable.

And yet... was there anything more he could prepare?

The question gnawed at him.

Before the tournament had ended, he had made sure to ask the elders what to expect in the Sacred Grounds. He hadn’t expected specific answers—he knew better than to think the elders would hand him the path—but he had wanted parameters. Some sense of the scope.

What they told him was simple and sobering.

"It depends entirely on the individual."

Some had passed the trials in a matter of days.

Others had taken months.

And then there were those who had left midway. Not because of injury or fear... but because they simply couldn’t endure what lay ahead.

And the cost of leaving?

Final. Permanent.

Once you stepped foot in the Sacred Grounds, the Formation Spirit would mark your intent. If you left before completing its trials, it would deem your heart unready—and bar you from ever returning.

"Giving up," the elders had called it.

A phrase Lin Mu detested more than anything.

He sat motionless, letting that thought settle deep into his bones.

There could be no hesitation.

There could be no retreat.

This wasn’t like the Path of the Sealed Swords, where he could remain as long as he could endure, where the trials flowed one after the other in spiritual continuity. The Sacred Grounds were different. Living. They responded to the soul and the heart, and tested what lay beyond skill.

Which meant, ultimately, that there was nothing more he could "prepare."

He was either ready... or he wasn’t.

And Lin Mu knew himself well enough to understand—he was ready.

He had gone through 111 trials. He had faced phantoms and legacies, debated philosophy with swordmasters of illusion, and even rejected a Celestial’s temptation. His Sword Heart had been forged in emptiness, born not from power, but from resolve.

And yet, the Sacred Grounds were unknown.

There was one thing he could do before stepping into them—a final, last check. Not of his body or soul, but of the only other realm that mattered.

The Sleepscape.

He placed the teacup down, took a deep breath, and brought his hands together in a hand seal.

The world slowed, dimmed—and shifted.

In the next breath, he found himself standing upon the great dream-plain of his Sleepscape, a boundless land surrounded by gently glowing skies of ever-changing color tinted by the immortal qi that floated within it. The horizon shifted between starlit void and sun-kissed expanse, and beneath his feet stretched the fertile soil of his spiritual world.

He took a few steps forward, feeling the pulse of vitality through the ground.

The plants were still there, rooted deep in his sleepscape. The Immortal trees that had grown rustled faintly in the distance—one gleaming with pale violet light; the Violet Mystic Life Tree. the other covered in purple leaves that constantly released wood elemental qi, the purple Sickle Amaranth.

The Immortal Spirit Tulip danced gently in the wind, enjoying its life.

The Saplings of the Snow Glass Pear trees were also growing decently, showing no sign of slowing. The Immortal Apple Tree was also calm, giving a little wave with its branches to greet Lin Mu.