Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 3013: Giving An Old Friend Another Chance

Lin Mu stood up and stretched.

He looked at the Sword Cradle Divine Sheath resting against his back. It looked calm, plain as always, but he now knew better than to trust its exterior. Within it lay the hunger of a divine tool—one that could consume the castoffs of the world and convert them into strength.

His eyes gleamed.

”Let’s see how much you can handle.”

With that, he called forth a dozen other unwanted weapons—sabers, spears, daggers, curved blades, broken sword hilts, even rusted weapon fragments.

He set them on the ground in a pile.

The sheath didn’t hesitate. As if recognizing its due tribute, it activated again with a soft hum.

Each weapon vibrated and disintegrated into motes of metal and qi. Slowly but surely, all of it was drawn into the sheath’s hidden depths.

Lin Mu could feel the sheath’s energy swell. Not wildly, but steadily. A quiet buildup.

”It’s not like feeding a fire,” he thought, ”it’s like cultivating soil. Slow. Constant.”

He now understood a deeper part of the Divine Sheath’s nature—it wasn’t merely a cradle for swords. It was also a refiner, a recycler, and perhaps even a forge in its own right.

And with this realization, Lin Mu found yet another layer of value in what he had gained. Not only could he nurture and grow his own blades to unmatched levels, he could now also recycle unwanted weapons into nourishment for his divine tool.

”Sword Cradle Divine Sheath,” he murmured, placing a hand on its surface. ”You’re more useful than I could’ve imagined.”

A flash of warmth greeted his hand. Not heat. Not flame. But a pulse of approval—like a spirit responding to a cultivator’s gratitude.

And in that silent exchange, Lin Mu knew.

The journey of understanding this Dao Embryo had only just begun.

Within the quiet solitude of his courtyard, Lin Mu sat cross-legged as a small mountain of miscellaneous weapons and broken arms piled beside him.

The Sword Cradle Divine Sheath had proven to be far more versatile than he had anticipated—not just a nurturing cradle for swords, but also a silent, ravenous forge that could recycle unwanted weaponry into energy.

The discovery had prompted him to dig deeper into his spatial ring, and now he had begun sorting through the long-forgotten spatial storage rings tucked away in his personal collection.

Most of these rings had been claimed from fallen enemies, bandits, rogue cultivators, or even ruins lost to time. Some of them he had never even bothered to open, relegated to the dusty corners of his dimensional space. Now, however, each one had become a treasure trove of potential ”fuel” for the Divine Sheath.

As he cycled through them, Lin Mu began extracting any and all weapons he deemed unnecessary—low-grade sabers, bent spears, cracked halberds, and discarded immortal-grade swords he had no use for.

Each one was passed to the sheath, which devoured them eagerly in a silent, continuous pulse of energy and motion. The ground was littered with the last gleaming remnants of weapons before they were swallowed entirely, broken down into pure nourishment.

But then—

Lin Mu’s eyes paused.

His hand, midway through opening another storage ring, came to a stop. His gaze drifted elsewhere, not to the rings or the pile beside him, but deeper—into the weapon storage section of his own personal spatial ring.

There, standing upon a simple wooden display, was a sword.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t carved with Dao runes. There were no inscriptions, no aura of majesty or ancient presence. And yet, Lin Mu’s breath caught for a brief moment.

There it was—the very first sword he had wielded as a cultivator. The nameless sword he had received from Jing Wei, the old master who had once lived in the desolate shop in a corner of the Northern Town back in Xiaofan World.

That blade had been Lin Mu’s only companion in the earliest, most vulnerable days of his journey. Through blood and fire, through struggle and sorrow, it had remained by his side until eventually being set aside when he had found Ocean Raker and Afternoon Pine.

”I had almost forgotten you,” Lin Mu murmured.

He slowly reached into his ring and drew the sword out. It felt smaller now—lighter in his hand, almost fragile. But the moment he grasped its hilt, something clicked within him. A warmth. A flicker of old instincts. His grip tightened as muscle memory responded.

Countless memories rose unbidden—of slashing through wolves in the forest, of battling Qi refining realm bandits in desperation, of struggling to stand his ground in an unknown world that never stopped testing him.

This sword had seen the rise of Lin Mu. It had been part of every first lesson, every breakthrough, and every narrow escape.

Lin Mu’s fingers brushed across the blade’s smooth surface.

”You may not have a name,” he whispered, ”but you were my first companion.”

For a brief moment, he considered feeding it to the Divine Sheath. It was weak now, obsolete. No sword spirit resided within it. Its edge was dulled, its material strained from use and time.

But...

He couldn’t do it.

He simply couldn’t.

”You’re not fuel,” he said aloud, voice firm with finality.

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or the sword—but the intent was clear.

Then, to his surprise, a gentle wave of energy pulsed from the Sword Cradle Divine Sheath.

The sheath vibrated slightly, its edge shimmering with ethereal lines of light that reached out toward the nameless sword—not aggressively, not hungrily, but reverently.

The current wasn’t one of consumption or rejection—it was inviting.

Lin Mu paused, eyes narrowing in thought.

”You... understand?”

Another wave responded—soft, assuring.

The sword sheath was not asking for the sword as fuel.

It was offering it sanctuary.

Lin Mu’s eyes widened with realization. The sheath wasn’t rejecting this old companion. Nor was it demanding energy from it. Instead, it was treating the nameless sword like something precious—a seed, perhaps. One not meant to be broken down, but rested and nurtured, until it too could grow again.

Lin Mu smiled.

”You’re telling me you’ll take care of it... until the day it’s ready.”