Walker Of The Worlds

Chapter 2948: Jade Echo Retreat

Meng Bai looked at Lin Mu, brows furrowed slightly. ”Is that what you’re after? Something in those Sacred Grounds?”

”There’s something I must understand,” Lin Mu said quietly. ”And I believe I can only find the path forward in a place that has condensed thousands of years of Sword Dao. It may not give me the answer directly... but it might lead me to it.”

The wind swept past them then, bringing with it a faint, whispering resonance. It felt like sword chants drifting on the air—faint and ancient.

The mountain watched silently.

And perhaps, the Grand Elder, from his distant post in the Grand Hall, already knew that another sword had come to knock on the door of destiny.

As the winds settled and the mist began to curl lazily around their ankles, the Inner Court disciple led the trio toward the entrance of the residence.

”This is the Jade Echo Retreat,” he introduced with a slight flourish. ”It was constructed for honored guests and elders of great merit. Since it hasn’t been in use for the past few decades, you’ll have it all to yourselves.”

They stepped past a gracefully arched gate carved with cloud motifs and walked along a stone path lined with polished lanterns and soft glowing moss. The moment they passed through the threshold, the environment seemed to subtly shift.

The Immortal Qi, already dense, grew cooler and more nourishing, like stepping into a gentle current of spiritual essence. Every breath felt like a sip of rejuvenation.

The courtyard itself was expansive, built in harmony with the mountain’s natural contours. Ancient trees with silvery leaves shaded the paths, and distant melodic bird calls echoed between stone halls.

Meng Bai stopped, jaw slightly slack. ”This isn’t a residence. This is a sacred paradise...”

Daoist Chu chuckled lightly. ”It is one of the top sword sects. I suppose even their guest quarters are on par with palaces.”

The disciple turned, smiling. ”Shall I show you around?”

”Please,” Lin Mu said, hands folded behind his back.

They began the tour with the main building at the center of the compound—a graceful structure with soaring eaves and intricate wooden latticework.

”These are the living quarters. Each room is shielded with formation arrays that automatically adjust the temperature and Qi density to the comfort of the occupant. You’ll find several meditation chambers here too, including two advanced cultivation rooms with spatial compression fields.”

”Compression fields?” Meng Bai raised a brow.

”Yes,” the disciple nodded. ”The Immortal Qi is condensed many times over in those chambers. One day of cultivation in there can equal three or four days outside.”

Even Lin Mu’s gaze sharpened at that.

”Don’t worry,” the disciple added quickly. ”You’ll be granted access tokens for them.”

They proceeded toward the east side of the residence, where a low wall surrounded a small, serene garden. Soft green grasses blanketed the ground, and orderly rows of immortal herbs bloomed beneath the filtered sunlight. Brightly colored immortal fruits hung from trees, emitting gentle pulses of vitality.

”This is the Herb and Fruit Garden,” the disciple explained. ”Everything here is tended by formation arrays. The spirit fruits are rotated seasonally and can be harvested for light nourishment or used in alchemical concoctions.”

”I see several thousand-year Snow Pear trees there,” Daoist Chu observed. ”Those are rare.”

”The sect maintains several such gardens,” the disciple confirmed. ”This one’s output is modest but more than sufficient for cultivation needs.”

To the west, nestled between two rock outcroppings, they reached a beautiful hexagonal structure made from jade-tinted wood. Mist from a nearby waterfall drifted lazily around it, and the faint aroma of roasted leaves lingered in the air.

”This is the Tea Pavilion,” the disciple said with a proud smile. ”It’s often used by elders and guests for quiet reflection or discussion. The tea trees around the residence are all over three hundred years old, so the flavor is exceptional.”

Meng Bai sniffed the air. ”I could get used to this life...”

Past the Tea Pavilion, they followed a stone bridge across a stream and emerged onto the shore of a crescent-shaped lake. Crystal-clear waters shimmered in the afternoon light, revealing fish with iridescent scales swimming lazily beneath the surface.

”The Moon Mirror Lake,” the disciple introduced. ”Not only is it beautiful, but it’s rich in Water-aligned Qi. Some sword cultivators use it for reflection training—literal and philosophical.”

”I see why it’s called Moon Mirror,” Lin Mu remarked, noting the way the surface glinted even in daylight, as if holding a sliver of the moon inside.

Finally, they were led toward the rear of the retreat, where a massive double-door structure stood embedded into the mountain face itself. Runes glowed faintly across the stone surface.

”This,” the disciple said with a flourish, ”is the True Edge Training Hall.”

Even from outside, they could sense a faint hum of energy—measured, tense, and full of potential violence.

”The training hall contains several formation platforms where one can spar against Immortal-grade puppets,” the disciple explained. ”They’re attuned to Sword Intent and can replicate hundreds of sword styles from recorded duels of our sect’s past masters. You can set their strength anywhere from the Core Condensation realm to the peak of the Sixth Tribulation Stage of the Immortal Realm.”

”Formations like that must be incredibly rare,” Daoist Chu said, his voice tinged with appreciation.

”They are,” the disciple agreed. ”And expensive to maintain. But the sect spares no expense when it comes to the cultivation of sword intent.”

Meng Bai stepped closer to the doors. ”Can someone who doesn’t use the sword spar here?”

”You can,” the disciple confirmed. ”But the puppets are calibrated primarily for sword technique. If you fight with a spear, they’ll still respond—but not with perfect accuracy. Still, it’s excellent training, regardless.”

Lin Mu stepped forward and placed a hand on the smooth stone door.

He could feel it.

The weight of hundreds of years of battles.

Echoes of techniques.

The will of sword cultivators who had long since faded into history—but left their edge behind.

He smiled faintly.

”I look forward to testing myself here.”