Chapter 3001: The Greedy Sheath

The call of the sheath

intensified

once more.

There was more it required—more it

yearned for

.

Lin Mu furrowed his brow, but this time, he understood what it was asking. It wished to be

complete

. And it could only do so with the blades that it was born to cradle.

A smile tugged at his lips.

He reached into his spatial ring and retrieved two treasured items—his swords:

Afternoon Pine

and

Ocean Raker

.

They gleamed in the dim light of the Sacred Ground. Two polar forces—one golden and brimming with sword intent, the other deep blue and serene like the eternal sea.

And beside them, a third item: the

Sword Nurturing Box

he had crafted long ago.

For years, it had served as a home for the two swords, nurturing their growth with formation arrays and energies. It was a labor of both devotion and discipline.

Lin Mu released the swords first.

Even before he could guide them,

Afternoon Pine

and

Ocean Raker

shot out on their own, whistling in joy, spiraling through the air like birds returning home.

With a metallic whisper, they slid into the sheath upon his back, vanishing within without a sound.

Lin Mu blinked.

The sheath hadn’t simply

absorbed

them—it had

embraced

them.

He could feel their joy through his Sword Heart. They were

thriving

within it. The Sword Cradle Divine Sheath was more than a resting place—it was a

sanctuary

for swords.

But before he could marvel further, something shocking happened.

The sheath trembled again—once more extending its desire outward.

Lin Mu barely had time to react before the

Sword Nurturing Box

was drawn toward it as well.

"What—? Wait!" Lin Mu called out, attempting to seize it back.

But it was too late.

The moment the box came within reach of the sheath, it disintegrated into a stream of golden dust, sucked into the

Sword Cradle Divine Sheath

.

Unlike the swords, which had been accepted and preserved, the

Sword Nurturing Box

had been...

devoured

.

Lin Mu stood stunned.

The box had taken him a long time to construct. It had held many precious materials and formations, each carved with painstaking care. And now it was gone. Dissolved without resistance.

But then, comprehension dawned.

The sheath hadn’t destroyed it out of malice—it had

absorbed

its formations, its nurturing properties, and

incorporated

them into itself.

Lin Mu closed his eyes and reached out with his Immortal sense, brushing against the interior of the sheath now cradling his swords.

It was no longer just a container.

It was a living

womb

for swords—a sanctuary that nourished them, honed them, evolved them. The very essence of the Sword Nurturing Box was now a part of it.

And even more, it was

responding

to him.

He felt Afternoon Pine growing sharper, more vibrant.

He felt Ocean Raker pulsing with deeper, heavier tides.

The Cradle was not just a tool. It was a

partner

.

A forging ground.

A battlefield.

A final resting place—and a place of rebirth.

Lin Mu stood still, processing all this.

"...I see now," he murmured. "You were never meant to be hidden. You were always meant to

walk the world

with me."

He placed a hand on the sheath slung across his back and felt its warmth. Not of fire or heat—but of purpose.

"I accept," he whispered. "From now until the end... we face the heavens together."

The

Sword Cradle Divine Sheath

pulsed once in quiet reply.

And for a moment, beneath the gloomy skies of the Sacred Grounds, Lin Mu felt no pressure, no trials, no burdens.

Only harmony.

But he knew—this was just the beginning.

The path forward would be longer than anything he had walked before.

And he would walk it not just as a cultivator.

But as a

swordsman

.

While within the Sacred Grounds Lin Mu stood in quiet acceptance, the weight of the

Sword Cradle Divine Sheath

settling across his back like a crown earned through fire, the world beyond that ancient space was descending into

turmoil

.

The Xian Sword Sect, usually a fortress of discipline and serene martial focus, had been thrown into

uproar

.

It began subtly—an ominous pressure that made the air dense, stifling even for those in the higher realms of cultivation. But within moments, it escalated.

A soundless

crack

echoed across the heavens, a silent wail that shattered the clouds. All eyes were drawn upward as a

colossal fracture

spread across the skies, stretching like a scar from the summit of

Mount Sky Sever

.

And from that wound in the sky,

sword intent

—so vast and ancient it felt older than the stars—came pouring out.

The first to fall were the outer court disciples. A dozen of them collapsed outright, unconscious with blood running from their ears and noses, their cultivation bases barely able to withstand the ripples of such overwhelming force.

Even the core disciples gasped and staggered, clutching their swords to ground themselves. The more perceptive among them felt as if a

great beast

was looming behind their backs, its breath colder than winter steel.

Only the elders managed to remain steady—but even they paled, their faces turning grim as they gazed at the fracture. The

sect’s defensive formations

, dormant for centuries, flickered to life one after another.

Blades of light rose like walls, domes of power shimmered above the sect halls, and talismans inscribed with immortal-grade runes ignited.

But it wasn’t enough.

The

sword intent continued to swell

, building like a tidal wave pressing against a fragile dam. Birds in the distance fell mid-flight. Trees bent and cracked from unseen pressure. The very stones atop the sect’s plazas began to hum and vibrate.

At the base of Mount Sky Sever, the disciples stared up in terror.

At the summit, the

elders gathered

in haste, flying through layered sword clouds toward the storm’s eye. Elder after elder arrived, their expressions taut with alarm.

Finally, they reached the very peak—one of the most restricted places in the entire sect. Here stood only one figure:

Grand Elder Huo Jinyang

, one-eyed and serene as ever, with a hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.