The feast had faded into memory, a roaring echo of laughter, music, and blazing swordlight that now felt far away.
The tournament grounds were silent.
The disciples were recovering, the elders preparing.
And Lin Mu?
He stood alone atop Wind Whisper Ridge, the highest natural peak on the sect grounds other than Mount Sky Sever itself.
It was where the winds blew like the whispers of ancient swordsmen. His sleeves rustled faintly in the breeze, but he stood unmoving, gazing at the moon above—a silver disc suspended in the deep dark sky, like a blade waiting to be unsheathed.
The Path of the Sealed Sword would open in a week.
That was what the elders had told him.
Mount Sky Sever had become forbidden area after the end of the tournament. No disciples were allowed there. Not even junior elders could enter it without permission.
