The chamber no longer felt like a battlefield. It was turning into something stranger, more complicated, an enclosed world with its own rules, its own currents of power. At first, every cultivator who had survived thought only of themselves. They sat in their circles, they meditated, they forced Qi into their veins like starving men devouring scraps. But days bled into weeks, and weeks into months, and gradually the truth became impossible to ignore: ten years was not a passing moment. It was a lifetime, a prison, a kingdom. And kingdoms never remained empty for long.
The first signs came with the trades. At the beginning, it was quiet whispers, one cultivator asking another for a spare pill, or a sliver of a beast core they had carried into the chamber. Then prices were suggested, and soon bartering became a routine part of their survival. Before long, pouches of spirit stones clinked as much as the sound of breathing in meditation. Those who had medicinal knowledge stepped forward and began selling their services. Those who had techniques they no longer needed, or scrolls that didn't suit their attributes, sold them off to others for high prices. It wasn't just cultivation anymore, it was commerce, ambition, and politics.
Shen Hao watched it all with a quiet, detached expression. He never offered himself up for trade. His presence alone was enough to remind the others of the Ember Bloom they had witnessed, of the invisible blades of wind he now controlled. He didn't need to bargain. He didn't need to ask. He was left alone, respected by some, feared by most, and envied by more than a few.
Yao Jun, however, thrived in it. While Shen Hao sat silently in his circle, cultivating with quiet intensity, Yao Jun walked the chamber. He spoke with different groups, asked questions, and listened with an attentive smile. When disputes arose, it was often Yao Jun who calmed them, his voice weaving reason and persuasion like silk. He never forced, never threatened, but his words lingered in people's minds longer than they expected. Slowly, subtly, the chamber began to see him not as just another cultivator, but as a voice worth following.
The first attempt at leadership came early in the second year. A man with bronze-scaled skin and a voice like grinding stone stood in the middle of the chamber and declared that the cultivators needed a council. He boasted of his strength, of the techniques he possessed, and promised safety and order under his rule. His followers cheered, but the silence that followed was louder than their clamor. Shen Hao, sitting cross-legged, lifted his eyes, and Yao Jun tilted his head with a faint smile.
The chamber was no longer quiet, it was beginning to choose its rulers.
The bronze-scaled cultivator stood tall in the center of the chamber, his voice echoing off the rune-etched walls.
"We've been here for a year already," he said, his tone sharp as a blade striking stone. "For ten years we will remain locked in this place. Do you think we can survive on chaos and selfishness alone? No. We need order. We need leadership. And I will give it to you."
His followers, a cluster of ten men and women, shouted their support, the noise bouncing through the chamber like a gathering storm.
Shen Hao opened one eye, watching from his cultivation circle. He didn't move, didn't speak. Yao Jun, standing a few paces away, wore his usual faint smile, arms folded casually.
The bronze-scaled man continued, "Under my council, trades will be protected. Techniques will be shared fairly. No more ambushes, no more theft. Anyone who breaks the rules will answer to us. We will have law, strength, and unity!"
His words had weight. Several cultivators nodded slowly. A few even murmured agreement.
Then Yao Jun finally moved.
He stepped forward with the calm of a man strolling through a garden, not a trace of hostility in his bearing. His voice, when it came, was warm, steady, and carried far more power than the shouting that came before it.
"Law?" Yao Jun said softly. "Unity? Under you?"
The bronze-scaled man turned sharply. "Yes. Someone has to lead."
Yao Jun smiled faintly. "Indeed. But tell me… why you? Because you shout the loudest? Because you stand in the center and declare yourself king? Or is it because you think strength alone gives you the right?"
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
The man stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Strength does give the right."
"Does it?" Yao Jun's smile didn't fade. "Then why speak of councils? Of votes? If strength is all you need, then fight Shen Hao. Fight me. Take leadership with your fists instead of your promises."
All eyes turned to Shen Hao, still seated in his circle, eyes half-closed, expression unreadable.
The bronze-scaled man hesitated.
Yao Jun's voice carried on, smooth as water over stone. "You want order, but order built on greed and ambition collapses the moment someone stronger arrives. If leadership is taken by force, it lasts only until the next fist crushes it. No… true order comes from respect freely given. Not fear. Not bribery."
More murmurs now. Some nodded. Some frowned.
The bronze-scaled man felt the tide slipping. Desperation crept into his eyes. "And what would you have us do? Sit here like sheep? Bow to no one? Chaos will destroy us!"
Yao Jun shook his head slowly. "Not chaos. Choice. Let strength speak where it must. Let wisdom guide when it can. If someone wants to lead, let them prove it through action, not empty words and coins passed in the dark."
The chamber shifted. Those who had supported the bronze-scaled man moments ago now exchanged uncertain looks.
Then Lingfeng's voice carried lazily from Shen Hao's side. "Master, is he always this good with speeches, or is this just today?"
Shen Hao didn't answer. But his lips quirked faintly.
The bronze-scaled man saw the doubt spreading. His teeth clenched. "Fine. If action is what you want…" His gaze snapped toward Shen Hao. "Then let him stand. If he refuses, he has no right to sit there as though he owns this chamber!"
The chamber held its breath.
Shen Hao rose slowly to his feet.
The moment he stood, the air shifted.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't even fast. He just rose to his feet with the same unhurried motion he always carried, brushing the faint dust from his sleeve. But every cultivator in the chamber felt it, the weight in his presence, the promise behind his calm eyes. The bronze-scaled man, so loud moments ago, found his throat tightening.
Shen Hao didn't speak at first. He stepped forward slowly, each footfall echoing faintly through the runed chamber. The crowd parted instinctively, like grass bending before a wind.
The bronze-scaled man braced himself. His Qi surged, bronze scales rippling across his arms and chest, light gleaming off them like polished armor. "You think standing there makes you king?" he barked, voice louder than he felt.
Shen Hao tilted his head slightly. His voice was quiet. "You wanted action. Here it is."
The man roared and charged.
Qi exploded around him, the floor cracking under his sprint as his fist, coated in gleaming scales and raw energy, hurtled toward Shen Hao's head with enough force to shatter stone.
Shen Hao's body blurred.
One step. Stormbreak Steps.
The man's fist tore through nothing but air. Shen Hao appeared behind him, a faint trail of wind lingering where he had been.
The bronze-scaled man spun with surprising speed, swinging his arm like a cleaver. Shen Hao caught it with one hand. His fingers closed around the scaled forearm like an iron vice, stopping the strike cold.
The man's eyes widened. He tried to wrench free. Couldn't.
Then Shen Hao's palm ignited.
Flowing Ember Art.
Flames coiled up his arm, spreading across the man's scales like oil over water. The man roared in pain as the heat sank past his armor, searing through the gaps. Shen Hao shoved, a single burst of strength launching the man off his feet and across the floor.
He hit the ground hard, skidding back in a spray of dust and sparks until his shoulder slammed against the chamber wall.
Silence fell.
The man staggered, fury blazing in his eyes. "I'm not finished....!"
Shen Hao was already moving.
Whispering Gale Slash.
A flicker of wind and the man's spear, summoned in desperation, split cleanly in two. Another flicker and his armor shredded, invisible lines carved across the bronze scales like a sculptor slicing clay. The man froze, breath caught in his chest.
Shen Hao stood a single step away, Lingfeng's edge resting faintly against the man's throat. A whisper from the dagger carried across the room, dry and amused. "I'd hold very still if I were you."
The man didn't move. Couldn't.
Shen Hao's eyes stayed cold, steady. "Leadership," he said softly, "isn't claimed by shouting. Nor by threats. Nor by coins in the dark."
The blade at the man's throat vanished. Shen Hao turned away without another word, walking back to his circle.
The bronze-scaled man fell to one knee, trembling, humiliated before the entire chamber.
Yao Jun's faint smile lingered as he spoke into the silence. "So. It seems the chamber has chosen after all."
No one argued.
The bronze-scaled man didn't rise for a long time. His followers shifted uneasily, their earlier confidence burning away like dry leaves in fire. No one moved to help him. No one spoke.
Shen Hao returned to his cultivation circle, sitting cross-legged once more, eyes half-lidded as though the fight had been nothing more than a brief distraction.
But the chamber had changed.
The would-be council scattered over the next few days. Some left quietly, trading glances of fear whenever Shen Hao's name came up. Others tried to win Yao Jun's favor instead, offering words of alliance or promises of loyalty.
Yao Jun accepted none of it. He smiled, he listened, he offered advice with his calm voice and even temper, but he never bound himself to anyone. His influence grew all the same.
"Clever man," Lingfeng muttered one evening, his voice lazy as Shen Hao cultivated. "Letting you burn their pride while he wins their trust with a smile. It's like you're the thunder and he's the rain."
Shen Hao didn't respond. He could feel it too. Yao Jun never sought leadership, never demanded it, but the chamber was slowly bending around him all the same.
By the end of the first year, two names carried weight above all others.
Shen Hao, whose strength silenced ambition before it could roar too loudly.
Yao Jun, whose words soothed chaos before it could splinter into war.
Together, they became the axis around which the chamber turned.
The trades grew larger. Merchants appeared, carrying bundles of herbs, pills, and ores to the open center of the chamber like it was a marketplace. Healers set up mats near the walls, offering treatments for spirit stones or rare materials. A few arrogant cultivators even tried to sell secret techniques, most fake, some real, all overpriced.
Politics followed.
One faction tried to sell votes for spirit stones, promising that when the door opened in ten years, they would carry power back into the outside world. Another tried to create patrols to guard the chamber, claiming they wanted to prevent theft.
Both failed.
The first collapsed after Yao Jun exposed the bribes with nothing but a few words in the middle of the marketplace. The second ended when Shen Hao defeated its loudest enforcer in a single strike before returning to his circle without comment.
By the beginning of the second year, the chamber had rules.
Not written. Not declared. But rules all the same.
Don't attack merchants unless you want Shen Hao at your throat.
Don't start a political faction unless you're ready for Yao Jun to dismantle it with a smile.
Don't draw your weapon unless you're ready to lose it.
And above all, don't provoke either of them unless you're very, very sure.