Lin Mu's brows furrowed slightly as he looked at the old man.
"There is always someone stronger, Lin Mu," the old man continued. "And even the strongest swordsman bleeds if he lets his guard down. This eye reminds me of that every morning when I wake and every evening before I meditate."
Lin Mu's gaze softened, understanding blooming in his heart.
"It's a mark of honor then?" he asked.
"No," the Grand Elder said with a wry grin. "It's a mark of humility. Of survival. Of knowing that the moment you think you've reached the peak… is the moment someone cuts you down."
Lin Mu lowered his head respectfully. "Then I won't mention it again."
"Good," the Grand Elder said, patting him on the shoulder. "Besides, if I ever get too old and useless, maybe then you can restore it for me. Just so I can appreciate the world one last time with two eyes."
"I'll remember that," Lin Mu said with a faint smile.
