The cheers of the Heavenly Sword Arena had not yet fully faded when the atmosphere within the sect began to change.
For most disciples, the tournament had ended in excitement.
For the elders—
It had only just begun.
Night fell over the Heavenly Sword Palace.
The mountains were quiet.
A cold wind drifted between the peaks, carrying faint traces of sword intent that lingered in the air after the final duel.
On Silent Sword Peak, Lin Feng stood alone.
His sword rested across his knees as he sat in meditation.
His breathing was slow.
Even.
But his mind was not at rest.
Jian Mo's final words echoed faintly in his thoughts.
"You understood me."
Lin Feng's eyes remained closed.
The duel had not been about strength.
It had been about control.
Flow.
Timing.
Understanding the opponent's intent and guiding it instead of resisting it.
But something else lingered beneath that realization.
The moment when Jian Mo's domain had shattered.
Lin Feng could still feel it.
Not as power—
But as clarity.
For a brief instant, his sword had not been reacting.
It had not been countering.
It had simply… existed within the flow.
His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt.
"Not enough," he murmured quietly.
His current understanding of the Azure Sword Art was still incomplete.
The Third Flow had broken Jian Mo's domain—
But it had not fully controlled it.
A faint sound interrupted his thoughts.
Footsteps.
Lin Feng opened his eyes.
A figure stood at the edge of the stone platform.
An elder.
It was not the Grand Elder.
But one of the senior members of the council.
His presence was calm, but heavy with authority.
"Lin Feng."
Lin Feng rose and bowed slightly.
"You've been summoned."
No explanation.
No delay.
Lin Feng nodded.
"I understand."
The elder turned and began walking down the mountain path.
Lin Feng followed.
The Heavenly Sword Palace at night was different from the day.
Torches burned along the stone paths.
Shadows stretched across ancient walls.
The usual noise of disciples training had faded into silence.
Only the sound of footsteps echoed as Lin Feng followed the elder toward the inner sect.
They did not stop at the main halls.
Instead, they continued deeper.
Past training grounds.
Past restricted areas.
Toward a part of the sect few disciples had ever seen.
The air grew colder.
Sharper.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.
The sword intent in the air here was different.
Older.
Heavier.
They eventually reached a massive stone gate.
It was embedded into the side of a mountain.
Ancient runes covered its surface.
Each rune carried a faint but terrifying sword intent.
Two elders stood guard at the entrance.
They did not speak.
They simply stepped aside.
The elder beside Lin Feng finally spoke.
"This is as far as I go."
He looked at Lin Feng.
"The Grand Elder is waiting inside."
Lin Feng nodded and stepped forward.
The moment he crossed the threshold—
The atmosphere changed.
It felt as if he had stepped into another world.
The space beyond the gate was vast.
A cavern.
But not a natural one.
The walls were carved smooth, yet filled with countless sword marks.
Each mark carried intent.
Not scattered.
Not chaotic.
But layered.
Accumulated over centuries.
At the center of the cavern stood several figures.
The Elder Council.
And before them—
The Grand Elder.
Lin Feng approached and bowed slightly.
"You called for me."
The Grand Elder studied him quietly.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"You've grown."
Lin Feng did not respond.
The Grand Elder turned slightly and gestured toward the depths of the cavern.
"Tell me what you feel."
Lin Feng's gaze shifted.
He focused.
Not with his eyes—
But with his sword intent.
At first—
Nothing.
Then—
A faint tremor.
Deep.
Far below.
Something… was there.
His eyes sharpened.
"A sword."
The elders exchanged glances.
The Grand Elder nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Lin Feng's voice remained calm.
"But it's not stable."
A flicker of approval passed through the Grand Elder's gaze.
"Three nights ago, this place trembled."
Lin Feng looked again.
This time more carefully.
The tremor was subtle.
But real.
Not just a sword.
Something tied to it.
Something old.
The Grand Elder spoke again.
"You've heard of the Sword Tomb."
Lin Feng nodded.
"The burial ground of past masters."
"Correct."
The Grand Elder's voice lowered slightly.
"Every sword buried there still carries its owner's will."
He paused.
"But one sword is different."
The cavern grew quieter.
Even the air seemed to tighten.
"The sword of the sect's founder."
Lin Feng's gaze sharpened further.
"The Heavenly Ruin Sword."
The name carried weight.
Not because of power.
But because of history.
The Grand Elder continued.
"No disciple has ever been able to approach it."
"Not because of strength."
"But because of its will."
Lin Feng understood immediately.
A sword like that would not accept just anyone.
"But now," the Grand Elder said, "it's reacting."
Lin Feng looked deeper into the cavern.
The faint tremor pulsed again.
Stronger this time.
"Why?" he asked.
The Grand Elder met his gaze.
"That is what we intend to find out."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then—
"In five days, the Sword Tomb will open."
Lin Feng did not hesitate.
"You want me to enter."
"Yes."
The answer was direct.
"Why me?"
The Grand Elder stepped forward slightly.
"Because your sword does something others cannot."
Lin Feng remained still.
"It does not dominate."
"It does not resist."
The Grand Elder's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It understands."
A faint tension filled the cavern.
"And if the Heavenly Ruin Sword is awakening…"
"…we need someone who can face it without being destroyed."
Lin Feng thought for a moment.
The Sword Tomb.
Ancient swords.
Unknown danger.
For a sword cultivator—
There was no better place.
"I'll go."
The Grand Elder nodded.
But before Lin Feng could turn—
He spoke again.
"There is one more thing."
Lin Feng paused.
The Grand Elder's voice dropped.
"The seals should not be weakening yet."
A faint chill passed through the cavern.
"We believe…"
He looked directly at Lin Feng.
"…someone interfered."
Lin Feng's eyes sharpened.
"Inside the sect?"
The Grand Elder nodded once.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
Then Lin Feng turned and walked toward the exit.
As he stepped back into the night air—
The wind had grown colder.
High above, dark clouds gathered over the mountains.
And far beneath the Heavenly Sword Palace—
Deep within the sealed Sword Tomb—
A single ancient blade embedded in stone trembled.
A crack formed along the altar beneath it.
A faint, whispering sound echoed through the darkness.
Not a voice.
But something close.
And it carried only one thing.
Hunger.