The price Lin Mu had paid was therefore not physical, but otherwordly.
The Sword Spirit had not taken his energy. It had not drained his lifeforce. The power it had used came from itself, from its own ancient reserves.
No, what it had taken from Lin Mu was far greater: the price of breaking the rules of the Heavenly Dao itself.
Even now, neither the Saintess nor the Lotus Spirit could discern exactly what that price had been. They sensed no curse, no mark, no damage to his cultivation base. His soul was whole, his meridians strong, and yet his vitality wavered like a candle in the wind.
He continued to sleep, perhaps trapped within a dream that even the Saintess could not pierce.
At first, she suspected the influence of the Great Slumber Bear Bloodline within him, but no trace of that energy remained. The sleep he was under now was something entirely different.
Something deeper.
