Upon hearing the Patriarch's words, Lin Mu's mind reeled back to the great sword that stretched through the void… the blade that had carried him through the Sacred Grounds, and had watched in silence all the while.
It had chosen him.
But the Patriarch was not finished.
"Understand this, Lin Mu," he said, his tone now edged like tempered steel. "Calling upon the Spirit will not be without cost."
"Its power is ancient. Older than the sect. Older than most things in the Immortal Realm. I do not know what it will demand of you in return—because no one has ever been granted such authority before."
He let the weight of those words hang for a moment.
"What I do know is this—even Transcendents would fear its strike. The strength of the Xian Sword Spirit lies not merely in destruction, but in complete, unrelenting severance. If it were to unsheathe itself… nothing would remain."
Lin Mu's lips parted slightly in astonishment. "It could kill Transcendents…?"
