Chapter 3005: Heir Of The Xian Sword Spirit

The Patriarch continued, his voice calm but filled with a hidden weight.

"The Founder, too, could not claim the sheath. It did not respond to even his call. So he did the only thing he could—he sealed it within a nascent realm, one that later became the Sacred Grounds of the Xian Sword Sect. He left behind a single prophecy:"

He raised his hand and slowly etched a glowing character into the air with his finger: "Sword."

"’One day, the sheath will call out. It will reveal itself to the one chosen not by blood, nor talent, but by will. The one whose path can carry all swords, whose heart bears no edge but guards all edges. That person shall be the heir of the Xian Sword Spirit, and the rightful bearer of the Sword Cradle Divine Sheath.’"

The light character dissolved into the air.

None of the elders spoke. Their thoughts were racing, their hearts unsettled.

Elder Yan Dao took a half-step forward, struggling to process it all.

"You mean... all this time, the Sacred Grounds weren’t just a trial to test one’s Sword Dao... but a watchtower, a vault guarding a legacy?"

The Patriarch nodded. "Indeed. The Xian Sword Spirit, the formation itself, exists not only to temper our disciples but to safeguard this relic. It slumbers, awaiting the one whom the sheath acknowledges."

He looked once more to Lin Mu, his expression unreadable. "And today... that one has finally appeared."

Lin Mu remained silent through it all, but his fingers instinctively brushed the hiltless back of the sheath resting between his shoulders. It was heavy—so very heavy. And yet, it had never felt more right.

"I did not choose it," he said softly. "It came to me."

"That," the Patriarch replied, "is exactly why you were chosen."

Elder Yi Feiyan stepped forward now, still wary.

"But... a sheath? Can it even be considered a Dao Embryo? The whole concept of Sword Dao is about the blade, about the sharpness, the path of cutting forward."

To this, the Patriarch gave a slight smile.

"Then you have misunderstood the sword."

He raised his hand and pointed toward Lin Mu.

"A blade that cannot rest, that has no sheath, will always be unstable. The sheath does not stifle the sword—it gives it purpose. It preserves, protects, and prepares it for its moment."

"The Sword Cradle Divine Sheath is the ultimate manifestation of the potential of all sword paths. Not one specific philosophy or form—but the very womb from which they might be nurtured."

That silenced even the cynical Elder Ming Jiao.

And still the sword on Lin Mu’s back pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. It was quiet, gentle, yet present—always present.

The Patriarch let out a sigh, his voice now lighter.

"So you see, this sheath was not meant to be wielded by any cultivator. It was not meant to be used as a weapon. It was waiting... for its guardian. For its bearer. And now it has found one."

He stepped toward Lin Mu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You may not have asked for this, Lin Mu... but from this day forth, you are no longer just a guest of the Xian Sword Sect. You are the Heir of the Xian Sword Spirit. And your path... will never be yours alone again."

As the Patriarch’s words faded into the wind, a deep and reverent silence descended upon the summit of Mount Sky Sever. Not even the ever-present hum of sword qi dared to stir in this moment. The elders looked at Lin Mu with a mixture of awe, uncertainty, and dawning respect.

Lin Mu said nothing.

The weight of the Sword Cradle Divine Sheath on his back had not changed, and yet... it now felt heavier.

Not in burden.

In meaning.

He looked up at the sky—clear once more after the storm of sword intent had passed. The great fracture had healed. The Sacred Grounds had fallen silent again. It was as if the world had taken a long breath, and was now watching—waiting.

"Heir of the Xian Sword Spirit," he murmured, tasting the words.

They did not feel foreign.

They felt inevitable.

As if every step, every trial, every breath he’d taken since stepping onto this path had been leading him to this moment. Not because it had been predestined... but because he had chosen it, again and again, no matter the hardship.

High Elder Yan Dao finally broke the silence, stepping forward with a slow nod. His injuries, once grievous, had now become distant memories thanks to Lin Mu’s healing. His voice was calm, but carried the weight of years.

"So... what now?"

All eyes turned again to the Patriarch.

The towering old man regarded Lin Mu carefully, as if looking not at a boy who had once been a mortal, but at a new sun rising over the mountain of swords.

"Now?" the Patriarch echoed. "Now, we watch."

A pause.

"The Sacred Grounds do not choose lightly. Nor does the Xian Sword Spirit. This sheath... this Embryo... was not forged by hand. It is the culmination of philosophies older than this sect, perhaps older than this world."

He looked directly at Lin Mu.

"It will change you. And through you, it may change us."

"You have carried swords. You have walked the blade’s edge. Now, you must learn what it means to shelter them. To guard not just power... but intent."

Lin Mu took in a breath and nodded. He could feel the Divine Sheath humming on his back. Not urging, not demanding—just existing, silent and steady. A companion rather than a command.

The Patriarch then turned to the elders a stern yet calm look appearing on his face.

"Ensure that word spreads no further than necessary for now. The disciples will know he returned from the Sacred Grounds, and that should be enough."

"Let Lin Mu have space. The path he walks is not one we can guide. It is one we must allow to unfold."

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