Inside the Soul Devouring Banner, time flowed differently.
Mist drifted across the dark landscape. Qi surged through the air like currents in a deep sea—thicker, richer, more alive than any cultivation chamber the outer sect could offer.
Jian Wuxin sat alone beneath a sky of flowing chains and drifting soul embers, cross-legged on a plateau of black stone.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He simply cultivated.
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Month One
He consumed the first Qi Refining Pill, and the flood of Qi roared through his meridians.
The first cycle took hours. The second, only one.
With each breath, his control sharpened.
The Soul Devouring Banner itself drew in ambient Qi from the outside world through his quarters' faint resonance, filtering it through the soul realm and offering it back in greater density.
Jian burned three spirit stones that month, soaking the dense energy into his bones and blood.
His Qi pool swelled.
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Month Two to Four
He consumed the remaining Qi Refining Pills—each one fueling an explosive leap forward.
His meridians widened. His core condensed.
He began meditating under floating soul-chains, letting the drifting specters of forgotten spirits whisper strange echoes that honed his spiritual will.
He forged not only his Qi—but his soul's sharpness.
> "Refine your body, refine your Qi, refine your mind," the banner whispered like a mantra.
He burned through all of his spirit stones by the fourth month.
By then, he had reached the sixth stage.
And he hadn't broken a sweat.
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Month Five to Seven
The breakthrough to seventh stage came on the back of pain.
His Qi pool was too full. His meridians screamed with pressure. But he grit his teeth, circulated his energy endlessly, and burned through three sleepless nights before the pressure finally cracked—
—and he broke through.
When the Qi settled, his body felt lighter. His bones denser. His senses sharper.
He could now hear the faint spiritual hum beneath the misted earth.
Even without pills, he kept cultivating.
He had time. And in here, time bent to him.
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Month Eight
The final push to eighth stage came in silence.
No pills. No help.
Just breath. Focus. Pressure.
The air within the banner's realm continued to nourish him, powered not only by its density—but by its very hunger to grow him stronger.
When the final Qi cycle settled into stillness—
Jian Wuxin exhaled.
The eighth stage of Qi Refining.
Near the peak.
He opened his eyes.
The mists parted slightly around him, as if acknowledging the change.
And far above, the coffin wrapped in soul-chains pulsed—faintly.
But not asleep.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Jian stood, brushing the dust from his robe.
> "Ten months outside. Eight months of cultivation inside."
He flexed his fingers. The Qi in his dantian was dense, smooth, and no longer volatile.
> "It's time to return."
He placed a palm over the black stone floor.
The banner pulsed—and Jian Wuxin vanished from the soul realm.
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Back in his quiet quarters, the banner lay inert on the floor. It shimmered for only a moment before Jian stepped out of it, cloak billowing faintly behind him.
He looked unchanged on the outside.
But now, he was no longer just a fast-rising disciple.
Now—he was something the outer sect had no name for.
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