Lin Mu stabbed Afternoon Pine into the ground.
"My sword is not a burden. It is not a title. It is not a name etched in history."
"It is my path."
The light erupted from the blade, flooding the plaza.
The phantom Lin Mu dissolved, eyes finally closing in peace.
And the names on the floor? They faded—freed.
A final voice whispered through the light:
"Then go, walker of swords. Write your legacy with every step. Be forgotten or remembered—but never lost."
Lin Mu stood alone again.
No plaza. No monolith.
Only a single step forward, and a faint light.
His eyes were calm. Focused.
"So this is the Path of the Sealed Sword…" he murmured. "It's not just a trial. It's a mirror."
He took a breath.
And walked onward.
Lin Mu emerged from the fading light of the previous trial, stepping into what felt like a new realm altogether.
The air here was pure—too pure.
Each breath he took was invigorating, almost euphoric.
