Elyon lingered in the shadow and then his voice broke the silence. "We can continue tonight. There are disciples below who will probably act according to their daily duties. We can make sure they do not speak."

The night had descended and even if there was no day and night cycle in the void, people still preferred to stick to routines. It won’t be long before the disciples brought, in food for the elders to eat.

While not all elders might partake in it, preferring to stay in cultivation, some will still do it. After all, not all of them were in seclusion. As such, they had to act before it came to that. Lin Mu’s lips tightened with the weight of the next steps.

"No... That won’t be necessary." He said, much to Elyon’s surprise.

"What do you suggest?" he asked.

"We’ve removed the heart, acting as the scalpel, now it is time for the butchers knife to do mince the flesh." Lin Mu replied.

"Hmm... I suppose it would be a bit of a waste for others to just stay outside." Elyon understood Lin Mu’s meaning.

"Yes, time to call them in." Lin Mu confirmed.

Elyon melted into the corridors like ink in water, and Lin Mu turned away, phasing through the floors again, preparing the next phase of a plan that had begun with a single precise blade to a single isolated heart.

The large plaza outside the Grand Hall stretched out like an open stage under the slowly darkening artificial sky. Wide flagstones paved the ground, their polished surfaces reflecting the faint glimmer of the lanterns that had been lit along the pathways.

The air carried the soft aroma of food as servant disciples hurried with baskets and trays, preparing for the evening meal. Ordinary disciples moved in groups, exchanging words about their daily duties or their minor struggles in cultivation. Some trained in the far corners of the plaza, striking practice posts and sending out faint waves of qi.

In the middle of this bustling scene stood Lin Mu.

His figure was straight and unyielding, his eyes sweeping across the sect grounds with an emotionless calm that felt completely detached from the life surrounding him. For the first minute, no one thought much of him.

He was glanced at briefly, acknowledged, and then dismissed like a passing shadow.

His robes bore the familiar design of the Hidden Cave Sect, and his presence did not radiate killing intent or hostility, at least not outwardly. To the casual observer, he was simply another disciple going about his business.

Yet, among dozens of distracted eyes, there was always one that lingered longer than the rest.

A young disciple carrying a bundle of scrolls stopped short. His gaze locked on Lin Mu, and confusion crept across his face. Something felt wrong. The man’s robes matched the sect, yes, but his face was unfamiliar.

The Hidden Cave Sect had many disciples, yet it was rare for one to go entirely unnoticed, especially someone whose bearing carried the confidence of a higher realm cultivator.

The disciple frowned. ’Perhaps this was someone returning from long seclusion.’

The Grand Hall often hosted elders who took on private disciples, and it was not uncommon for such disciples to vanish for years before emerging once more. That reasoning settled the unease in his heart.

He stepped forward cautiously, not wishing to appear rude if the man before him was indeed a senior.

"Senior brother," the disciple called, bowing politely as he approached. "May I ask, have you just come out of seclusion?"

But Lin Mu did not respond.

His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his lips sealed in silence. The lack of acknowledgement unsettled the disciple, though he quickly reasoned that perhaps this was a test of conduct or patience.

He waited a moment longer, but when the silence stretched unbearably, he glanced around at the other disciples.

A small group had already begun to gather. Curiosity was natural in the sect, especially when an unfamiliar face appeared.

One of them asked, "Who is he?"

The disciple who had spoken first shook his head. "I do not know. Perhaps he is a personal disciple of one of the elders. He came from the direction of the Grand Hall."

That explanation satisfied none of them.

If he truly was someone’s disciple, then why was he standing still, ignoring all attempts at conversation?

Whispers spread among the disciples, and several frowned, wondering if they should inform their seniors. A couple of them walked forward and tried asking Lin Mu directly.

"Brother, which Division are you from?"

"Have you been cultivating under Elder Juyan? I have not seen you before."

Lin Mu’s eyes shifted at last, turning toward the small group. His gaze was sharp, carrying a weight that pressed against their chests even without the release of qi. Silence fell for a breath, and then he spoke, his voice calm but heavy, as though pronouncing a decree.

"I am here to bring your sect to an end."

The words struck them harder than a blade. For a heartbeat, the disciples thought they had misheard.

’End? Bring the sect to an end?’

The statement was so utterly foreign to their ears that it did not immediately register. They exchanged confused glances, muttering among themselves.

"What did he say?"

"Is he jesting? That cannot be true."

But the growing unease quickly turned to alarm. The first disciple who had approached earlier suddenly realized that he had never seen this man before, not once in all his years in the sect. The robes could be faked, the bearing could be copied, but the face was unknown.

"Who are you?" one of them demanded, voice trembling with both fear and rising anger. "You do not belong here!"

Several disciples immediately activated their communication talismans, sending urgent messages to the elders. They had been taught to be cautious when faced with intruders, and not matter how much confidence they had in the secrecy of their hidden sect, this stranger had now spoken words that could not be ignored.