Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2998: Endless Choices Of Sword Dao Embryos

Having understood the meaning of the Razor’s edge Lin Mu smiled and looked ahead. But as he did, he saw no path ahead.

No razor’s edge threatening to split him into shreds. Instead, what stood there was a floating cliff.

”What?” Lin Mu couldn’t believe it. ”Was that the end?” He wondered.

He could swear the razor thin path was still there, extending into infinity and yet now there was nothing but the cliff.

”I guess this is the next test?” He wondered.

When Lin Mu took that final step off the razor’s edge and onto the new floating cliff, he felt the change instantly.

The path that had stretched endlessly in front of him—so sharp, so demanding—had vanished without fanfare. No cracking sound. No shift in wind. One step, and it was gone.

He paused, glancing behind him out of instinct, but there was only an endless abyss of dark sky and drifting mist. No path. No return. Only forward.

Before him, the space trembled.

A cold gust of wind swept across the cliff, and within it, sword lights began to shimmer into existence. Ethereal blades, ghostly outlines of countless swords, short and long, curved and straight, wide and narrow, began to coalesce in midair. They spiraled upwards, converging to form a towering monolith of condensed sword essence, reaching beyond sight.

The sky above pulsed with silver light, and a voice echoed, deep and ancient.

”You have proven yourself capable of walking the path. But among those who walk it... what place will you take?”

The question struck Lin Mu like a sword to the chest—not for its hostility, but for the weight it carried.

He furrowed his brows, watching as the surface of the monolith rippled. From its base, thousands of sword-shaped lights shot out. But these were not swords in the literal sense. They were images, impressions, and manifestations of intent and will.

Each one a representation of a possible Sword Dao Embryo—the first step in carving out one’s personal Dao of the Sword.

The lights hovered and shifted in the air, changing form constantly.

One image turned into a lightning-clad longsword, sparking with speed and aggression.

Another became a pair of twin blades, circling in perfect harmony—one red like fire, the other blue like ice.

A third appeared as a rusted sword, dull and seemingly useless, yet radiating an ancient and boundless aura.

Still others took stranger forms: a whetstone split in half, leaking sword qi; a leaf drifting on the wind, sharp at its edge; even a mirror reflecting infinite blades and battlefields.

Not all of them were violent. Some radiated calm. One looked like a sword being forged on an anvil—endless potential. Another resembled a sealed scabbard, simple yet protective, embodying restraint.

Each one beckoned.

Each one whispered a path Lin Mu could walk.

And then, he understood.

This was no longer a test of endurance or comprehension.

This was a test of self.

The voice hadn’t asked what sword he would wield. It had asked what place he would take. What truth he would carve into the world through his sword.

These were the seeds of sword daos. Sword Embryos. They were not simply skills. They were ideals—truths made sharp and forged through cultivation. And now, Lin Mu had to choose one.

’Is this test specifically for me?” Lin Mu wondered.

After all, it wouldn’t make sense to show this Sword Dao Embryo images to others. Most would have already formed their Sword Dao Embryo ages before even coming here. it was Lin Mu who was an anomaly that had managed to come this far without a Sword Dao Embryo.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the mirage of infinite choices. His heart remained still. The sword lights flickered as he moved past them.

He had long since wondered which Dao Embryo to form and now it was time to make the choice.

The blade of lightning—too fast, too fleeting. That wasn’t him.

The twin blades of harmony—beautiful, but not the kind of balance he sought.

The drifting leaf was elegant but too passive.

He passed hundreds, if not thousands. Some intrigued him. Some repelled him. Some felt familiar, but none felt true.

Lin Mu returned and stood before the boundless monolith, the spectral sword lights flickering around him like fireflies of destiny.

Each shimmering form represented a possible path, a potential truth his sword could carve into the fabric of the world. And among them all, one stood apart.

In the far corner of the sky, tucked away like a forgotten relic, rested a simple sword leaning against a stone. Its blade was dull, its hilt worn, but Lin Mu felt a resonance within it.

It didn’t try to dazzle him with power or allure him with brilliance—it simply was.

Steady. Silent. Enduring.

The pull he felt toward it was undeniable. His feet moved on their own as he stepped forward. This sword, this idea, called to something deep within him—something that didn’t yearn for dominance or conquest, but for quiet strength. For the ability to bear the weight of time and hardship without breaking.

He reached out.

But just as his fingers were about to brush against the dull sword’s form, his entire body froze.

The ring on his finger—an ancient artifact bound to his very being—began to tremble. A low hum radiated from it, vibrating through his bones and shaking the very space around him.

”What...?” Lin Mu whispered, eyes widening.

In the next heartbeat, light exploded from the ring in a blinding flash.

Lin Mu instinctively raised his hand to shield his face, retreating a step. When the brilliance faded, what stood before him stole the breath from his lungs.

A sword.

Not any ordinary sword—but the great sword.

The same massive, arcane weapon made purely of runic formations. A construct he had discovered long ago within Jing Luo’s mountain residence.

He had tried everything to interact with it—qi, sword intent, formations, and even brute force—yet nothing had worked. Eventually, he had simply built a stone shelf around it and left it be.

Until now.