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."
