Dozens more trials were experienced by Lin Mu.
Some were mental, some physical, others emotional or philosophical. They tested his endurance, patience, kindness, wrath, even love and abandonment. Each one revealed a part of himself he hadn't faced.
Each one sharpened him further.
Until finally, before him, appeared the final door.
Not a wooden gate this time.
This one was a monolith. A sword so large and ancient it stood upright like a divine monument. Its blade carved with forgotten runes. Its presence oppressive and yet divine.
The names of countless sword bearers were etched on its surface—some faded, some glowing. The legacy of every challenger before him.
This was no trial.
This was judgment.
And Lin Mu stepped forward, not with fear, not with pride…
…but with purpose.
The final trial awaited.
And the sword within him had never been clearer.
Much to Lin Mu's surprise though, the final trial was nothing.
No, not a void, nor darkness.
Not an illusion.
