Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2976: Blade Of Conviction

The phantom moved.

And the duel began.

It was a clash without words.

There was no signal. No roar. No fanfare.

Only motion.

The phantom’s first step sliced through the void, its form blurring into arcs of darkness. Lin Mu reacted instantly, parrying with a tight crescent slash.

Clang!

The force echoed—not in volume, but in will.

Sword intent surged around both of them, slashing through the air without energy or light. Every movement was precise. Every step a challenge.

The phantom advanced with seamless grace, each blow honed like glass. Cuts came from impossible angles. Feints followed real strikes that reversed mid-swing.

Lin Mu deflected three.

Parried two.

Dodged one.

The sixth strike grazed his shoulder.

His feet slid back an inch across the silvery ring of light, his boots scraping noiselessly.

"He’s fast..." Lin Mu muttered. "And not just fast—disciplined. He doesn’t waste a single motion."

He narrowed his eyes. His fingers adjusted. Breath slowed.

He let his Sword Intent rise—not to dominate, but to match.

The air hummed as he responded with a flurry of movements.

Parry. Lunge. Spin. Strike. Feint. Counter.

Each clash sparked phantom echoes—ghost blades dancing around them like memories from another life.

The phantom matched him. Not just in strength—but in understanding.

"No flaws. No emotion. Just... purity," Lin Mu realized.

This wasn’t just a swordsman. This was someone who had likely reached the Sword Heart Stage, a realm few ever glimpsed. Where a sword became not a weapon, but an extension of the self.

And yet—

Lin Mu was smiling.

"This is what I needed."

Compared to the last trial, this finally felt exciting to Lin Mu.

He stepped in.

Their blades met again.

Ten exchanges. Twenty. Fifty.

Each one was a battle. Each one an epiphany.

Lin Mu felt himself adapting. Sharpening.

He didn’t rely on brute force. He couldn’t.

Instead, he let instinct and comprehension take over.

The arc of a mountain’s edge.

The curve of a pine’s branch in wind.

The shearing force of a wave on stone.

Each image shaped a movement. His strikes became natural. Alive!

"I don’t need to force it. The sword will move as I move."

He slid under a sweeping arc, turned his blade with a flick of the wrist, and drew a line through the phantom’s side.

A faint shimmer.

A cut.

The phantom paused.

Then raised its blade.

And bowed.

Slowly, it dissolved into motes of starlight.

The silence returned.

Lin Mu stood in place, shoulders rising and falling with calm breath.

"That..." he said quietly, "was a real duel."

He looked down at his callused hands, the old training sword still clutched between his fingers.

"No techniques. No secret arts. Just me... and the sword."

The void trembled.

Another light appeared.

And with it, the next trial awakened.

The motes of light from the vanished phantom faded, swallowed by the void once more.𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Yet Lin Mu did not move. He simply stood there in the silence, the echoes of the duel still fresh in his limbs, in the flickers of memory across his skin. That match had refined him—not in cultivation, but in spirit.

But the Path of the Sealed Sword was not done.

A ripple coursed through the void.

This time, it wasn’t space that shifted—but perception.

The silvery platform beneath Lin Mu’s feet morphed, becoming a circular stone pavilion, its edges framed by broken sword hilts and shattered scabbards. Eight worn stone pillars circled the platform, each engraved with a single word—Resolve, Burden, Blood, Grace, Sacrifice, Ruin, Truth, and Self.

Opposite him sat a man.

Or something that looked like one.

Clothed in tattered scholar’s robes, the figure bore no sword at his side—only a long ink brush behind his ear, and a jade slip held delicately in hand. His eyes were closed. His hair streaked with grey. He exuded no aura, no sword intent.

Yet Lin Mu felt it the moment their eyes met.

Danger.

"Welcome, seeker of the Path," the figure said, voice like wind over dry leaves. "You’ve cut through strength. You’ve endured the heart. Now..."

He opened his eyes—razor-thin slits of cold comprehension.

"Let us see the edge of your soul."

Lin Mu raised a brow. "A debate?"

"Not a debate. A duel. A battle not of steel, but of truth. Here, every word is a sword, and every belief a blade."

He gestured to the air.

A second later, a ring of light flared around them.

The space between them warped.

Then—a strike.

Lin Mu barely moved, yet his shirt fluttered as if brushed by wind. A shallow line appeared on the stone next to him, cut clean.

He hadn’t seen the man move. Only speak.

"The sword is death, refined," the figure spoke. "It takes life to bring meaning. Without blood, it is nothing."

The sentence became a strike.

A sharp, quick line. A philosophy honed to kill.

Lin Mu nodded slowly.

"If that is your truth," he said softly, "Then here is mine."𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

He stepped forward.

"The sword is not death. It is intention. A weapon is only shaped by the one who wields it. In my hands... it is life."

A wave of silver erupted from his words—a blade formed of conviction, arcing straight into the scholar’s defense.

The air rippled.

Both lines of sword intent clashed mid-space, tearing through the void in sheer ideological force.

Sparks fell like cherry blossoms.

Words sharper than Steel!

The scholar smiled faintly.

"You defend mercy. But mercy dulls the sword. Without the will to strike first, you are already dead."

Another phrase, and another sharp line slashed out—angled, cruel, swift like a cobra’s tongue.

Lin Mu took the blow head-on. The force grazed his cheek—not in flesh, but in mind.

He grinned.

"Restraint isn’t weakness. Mercy is not cowardice. It is control."

He stepped forward again.

"Those who strike with rage are beasts. But those who strike knowing they could have spared... and still chose blood—they are monsters."

Another arc of energy flowed from his words, intercepting the scholar’s attack and carving clean through it.

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