Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2987: The Injured High Elder Yan Dao

A few days had passed since Lin Mu’s serene tea conversation with the Saintess beneath the stars, and the Sacred Grounds still remained silent. There had been no sign, no ripple from the formation spirit, and no stirrings that would suggest an impending summons.

Lin Mu had expected this. The Grand Elder had told him that the Sacred Grounds opened of their own volition—it was not a gate that could be pushed open, but a will that chose when to call.

So, as he waited, Lin Mu returned to his quiet contemplation atop the cliff beside the Jade Echo Retreat. He sat as he always did, overlooking the sprawling grounds of the Xian Sword Sect, while the sky above was bathed in warm sunlight and drifting white clouds.

Beside him, not far away, Meng Bai was immersed in his training—his form dancing through the air, tracing arcs of light with his spear as formation patterns shimmered faintly beneath his feet. The younger cultivator had taken to combining his formation mastery with his martial techniques, and Lin Mu couldn’t help but nod in approval.

Meng Bai had grown considerably in the last three years.

But Lin Mu’s tranquil observation was disturbed.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

Below, in the distance, from one of the larger pavilions near the heart of the sect, a flurry of movement erupted. Dozens of disciples were rushing through the air and across the stone paths. Some were flying, others on foot, all moving toward one direction with evident urgency.

Lin Mu furrowed his brow. It wasn’t common for the disciples of the Xian Sword Sect to be so disordered. Their sect was one of composure and control. For so many to panic openly meant something serious had happened.

He extended his immortal sense with the gentleness of silk. Countless voices poured into his mind at once, but he quickly filtered out the noise.

"...High Elder Yan Dao..."

"...the Healing Hall’s been alerted..."

"...he’s injured..."

Lin Mu’s eyes snapped open, a flash of sharpness passing through them. ’High Elder Yan Dao? Injured?’

He turned to Meng Bai, who had stopped mid-movement and was watching the disturbance too. "Meng Bai, continue your training. I’ll be back shortly."

The young cultivator nodded. "Understood."

With a flicker, Lin Mu vanished from the cliff, moving like a blade of wind.

He reached the Healing Hall moments later.

The grand pavilion was ringed with defensive formations and healing arrays glowing faintly, pulsing with life energy. Inside, the scent of medicinal incense clung to the air as healers bustled about in quiet efficiency.

Lin Mu’s arrival turned heads immediately. Disciples parted to make way, and he entered the main treatment chamber.

There, on a broad jade bed surrounded by diagnostic talismans and hovering silver needles, lay High Elder Yan Dao.

Lin Mu’s eyes immediately went to the long, jagged gash running from the elder’s left shoulder down to his right hip. His robes were torn, and blood had dried around the wound, though the worst of it had been staunched by healing spells. Still, the sight was startling. Even more so given the man’s cultivation.

Two other elders—white-robed healers with long experience—stood nearby. Their expressions were concerned, and their hands glowed with healing light as they worked.

"High Elder Yan Dao," Lin Mu said, stepping forward. "What happened?"

The old man opened one eye and chuckled weakly. "Ah, Lin Mu... you came. Don’t look so grim, junior. It’s just a scratch."

"A scratch?" one of the healing elders snapped. "You call a wound that nearly cleaved you in half a scratch? Don’t downplay it, Yan Dao. If you’d been slower by even a second, you might’ve been in pieces."

The second elder shook her head. "You may be a High Elder, but you’re not invincible. You should not have gone in alone."

Lin Mu glanced at them, then back at Yan Dao. "Gone where?"

The elder sighed. "The Chamber of Mad Swords."

Lin Mu’s expression darkened slightly. "What is that?"

Yan Dao sat up slowly, groaning a bit but waving away the healers’ protests. "It’s a hidden site beneath Mount Sky Sever... not many know about it. Even among the elders, few dare to step into it unless they’re confident."

He gestured for Lin Mu to sit, which he did.

"It’s a sealed chamber—one of the deepest and oldest sword tombs in the sect," Yan Dao explained. "It’s said to contain the echoes and remnants of countless swords and their, many of them left behind by those who... didn’t leave it whole. Or at all."

"The Mad Swords?" Lin Mu asked.

The elder nodded. "Indeed. Swords driven mad by battle, obsession, or despair. Wills that have lingered far beyond reason. Each one is a mad blade, and when you step into the chamber, they attack your sword intent. You are forced to defend, not only with technique but with conviction."

"Why go in?" Lin Mu asked, though he already had a guess.

"The chamber is made to purify the swords and allow them to reach peace. We need to regularly maintain them and imbue our own Sword Intent in it to reinforce the array. It also serves as an additional training site for us elder.

After our exhibition match... after seeing your Sword Heart, I felt something awaken within me. It was exhilarating and humiliating all at once. I hadn’t felt that challenged in centuries." He chuckled bitterly. "I thought perhaps I was growing complacent."

Lin Mu was quiet for a moment. He understood that feeling. The sword was not a path of contentment. It was a path of endless ascent—or descent.

"I went into the chamber alone," Yan Dao continued. "I lasted longer than most, even managed to defeat several of the stronger phantoms. But one... one of them was different. It was silent. Its sword didn’t cut qi—it cut... thought. I barely escaped. The sword you see here," he gestured to his wound, "was real enough."

Lin Mu’s gaze sharpened. "That kind of will... it still exists in the sect?"

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