Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2994: Walking On A Razor’s Edge

As he heard the intents, Lin Mu didn’t respond aloud. There was no need.

His Sword Heart remained steady.

’I do not seek the sword to conquer, nor to protect alone.’

’I seek it to be true.’’

To be unshaken in a world full of turmoil.’

’To carve a path when none exists.’’

To stand when others fall.’

’To walk forward, even if alone.’

Step by step, he continued.

At times, the path rippled beneath his feet as if trying to shake him. At others, unseen blades rose from the sides, brushing against his arms and shoulders—but they could not pierce him.

Even the windless void seemed to shudder with the weight of Lin Mu’s steady advance.

He did not know how long he had been walking.

Time had no meaning here.

There was no sun, no moon, no change in light. The mist that surrounded the path remained the same—a veil that concealed all.

And yet, he did not falter.

Hours could have passed. Or days. Or mere moments.

All that mattered was the path ahead.

And the silent pulse in the distance... growing ever closer.

Each step Lin Mu took upon the razor’s edge brought with it a deepening silence.

He had long stopped counting the number of steps. Hundreds, perhaps more. Each one was just as perilous as the last, the sword edge beneath his bare feet keen enough to sever fate itself. And yet, Lin Mu walked without hesitation.

The Sword Intent emanating from the path grew heavier, more intricate with every pace. Some might have likened it to the weight of mountains; Lin Mu likened it to an audience—millions of phantom swordsmen watching, their blades raised in silent appraisal.

And still, he was unaffected.

His Boundless Dominator Physique shone with a faint golden glow beneath his torn robes, resisting every ounce of pressure the path could muster. His Sword Heart, recently awakened and still refining itself, pulsed like a silent flame within his chest—calm, clear, unwavering.

Yet nothing within the Sacred Grounds was meant to be walked with ease.

It began subtly—a sudden tension, an invisible vibration in the air. Lin Mu’s sword sense prickled. His Sword Heart, that instinctual anchor, stirred like a beast catching the scent of something deadly.

He slowed.

His foot hovered above the edge for a breath, then touched down with extreme caution.

That’s when it happened.

A wind—not a breeze, not a whisper, but a howling gale—exploded across the path, sharp and furious. It tore through the gloom of the Sacred Grounds like an ancient dragon rousing from slumber. The sword winds carried no ordinary cutting edge—they were infused with intent, the very will of the Sacred Grounds reacting to Lin Mu’s unwavering progress.

It slammed into him all at once.

His robes were shredded instantly, ripped apart like old parchment. The Silver Mirage Circlet unable to recover the illusions.

The golden luster of his skin clanged as though a thousand blades were trying to carve into divine metal. The sound echoed in the void: clink—clang—clink!

Each gust hammered him with raw, condensed Sword Intent.

Lin Mu grunted—not in pain, but in effort.

The wind didn’t wound him, but it threatened something else: his balance.

He leaned dangerously to one side, his footing faltering. One wrong move and he would fall—not off the edge, for there were no edges here. Falling meant being cut down, rejected, cast out by the Sacred Grounds.

It meant failure.

But Lin Mu wasn’t someone who could be toppled so easily.

His foot shot back, counterbalancing the force.

His torso twisted with unnatural control, redistributing the force through his waist and shoulders. His core remained steady, his Sword Heart resonating like a tuning fork—holding him centered in a storm of blades.

He stabilized.

The winds howled past him, furious but impotent.

He let out a breath, his hair fluttering wildly behind him, now loose from its tie. The world remained bleak, the path as narrow as ever, but Lin Mu had adapted.

"These winds..." he muttered to himself. "They’re just like Mount Sky Sever."

He remembered it clearly—the crushing pressure, the howling intent, the innumerable sword wisps embedded into the air. This was a challenge he’d already faced before.𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

And he had overcome it then too.

"Good," he whispered, eyes sharpening. "Then I know what to do."

He closed his eyes.

A moment passed.

And then from within him, his Sword Intent bloomed.

Unlike the wild, aggressive surges of others, Lin Mu’s Sword Intent was refined, like a still lake reflecting the moon. It didn’t lash out, it didn’t roar—it encompassed, stilled, and endured. The very air around him shimmered faintly as the transparent veil of Sword Intent wrapped around him in a gentle dome.

And he walked again.

This time, when the winds screamed through the void, they parted around him. The Sword Intent formed a natural shield—not through forceful resistance, but through perfect harmony. His intent did not challenge the winds. It acknowledged them. It flowed with them. And thus, the winds passed him like old acquaintances.

Step by step, Lin Mu advanced.

Each windstorm grew fiercer.

Each attempt to cut him down became more refined, more insidious. One wind was honed to pierce the soul. Another tried to bend space itself. But his Sword Heart remained immovable, his Will of the Path absolute.

He did not fight the path.

He became it.

Eventually, even the winds ceased, as if conceding defeat. The path ahead once again settled into quiet stillness, razor-thin and endless.

Lin Mu did not smile.

There was nothing to celebrate. This was not a battle won—merely a step taken.

There were still more ahead.

His eyes glowed faintly with golden light as he continued walking. His bare feet did not bleed, his aura remained composed, and the Sacred Grounds seemed to watch in contemplative silence.

Far ahead in the distance, the silent call persisted—like a heartbeat echoing through the void.

And Lin Mu walked on while his heart yearned to see what lay beyond the Razor’s Edge.