The chamber was quiet after the duel.
Too quiet.
Even the cultivators who had been watching from the edges said nothing. The dust had settled, the cracked floor was cooling, yet the weight of what they had witnessed still hung heavy in the air.
Shen Hao sat cross-legged on his cultivation circle, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. His entire body felt like tempered steel hammered too many times in one forge. But inside… inside was where the real storm was brewing.
The barrier was there.
Thin. Fragile. A trembling wall between him and the next realm. He could feel it with every pulse of his Qi. One more step, one more surge, and it would shatter.
"Shen hao," Mo Han's voice came, calm but firm, "you are at the edge. You will not cross it through brute force. The Demi-Conqueror Realm demands understanding, not just power."
Shen Hao exhaled slowly. "What do I need to do?"
"There is a trial," Mo Han said. "Inside yourself. A test not of strength, but of will and control. The Qi must obey you completely… or it will destroy you."
Shen Hao nodded once, sharp and steady. "Then let's do it."
He sank deeper into meditation.
And the world around him fell away.
He stood in a void.
A vast, endless plain of dark stone stretched beneath a sky of rolling crimson clouds. The wind here was sharp, slicing, carrying whispers that echoed with his own voice.
Then the ground cracked.
From the fissure rose a figure, his figure. Same face, same stance, same burning eyes. But its aura was twisted, wild, the Qi around it lashing like a storm barely contained.
Shen Hao understood instantly. This was him. His own power, unrestrained, unrefined. The side of him that only knew how to fight, to burn, to conquer without control.
The figure smiled, a mirror of his own. "You think you can control me?" it said, voice like grinding stone. "You've only ever ridden the fire, Shen Hao. Never commanded it."
Shen Hao said nothing. He slid into his stance.
The figure attacked first.
It was like fighting a reflection in a storm. Every technique Shen Hao knew, it knew. Every strike he launched was met with perfect counters. The void shook with every clash, fire and wind tearing across the endless plain.
But Shen Hao began to see it.
The pattern.
The rhythm beneath the chaos.
Every time the figure attacked recklessly, its Qi flared wildly, wasting power, leaving gaps. It was strength without precision. Fire without control.
And that was the key.
Shen Hao stopped attacking.
He breathed. Once. Twice. Qi flowing through him like a calm river.
The figure lunged again, and this time, Shen Hao moved with perfect economy. No wasted motion. No flare of excess Qi. His fist crashed through the figure's guard, then another blow shattered its form completely.
The wild power screamed once, then broke apart into streams of light, flooding back into him.
Shen Hao's eyes snapped open.
His Qi erupted upward like a pillar of fire, dense and sharp, tearing through the chamber's ceiling before vanishing into the air above. The ground around his cultivation circle cracked under the pressure.
Every cultivator in the chamber turned, eyes wide.
"Demi-Conqueror Realm…" someone whispered.
Mo Han's voice came, proud but calm. "Level One. You've done it."
Shen Hao exhaled slowly. The fire inside him no longer raged. It flowed, controlled, obeying.
But even as the others stared in awe, Yao Jun, sitting cross-legged across the chamber, opened one eye, and smiled faintly.
For fifteen days after Shen Hao's breakthrough, the chamber was quiet.
Not the quiet of peace, but the quiet of fear.
The cultivators whispered among themselves, stealing glances at Shen Hao, who cultivated in calm silence, flames flickering faintly around his aura. No one approached him. No one challenged him. The raw, oppressive Qi of a Demi-Conqueror Realm cultivator clung to him like a mantle, and those who once thought of stealing from him abandoned the idea instantly.
But on the sixteenth day, it happened again.
The air shifted.
From his own circle, Yao Jun rose slowly into the air, body glowing faint blue, like moonlight drawn into flesh and bone. His Qi swelled upward, layer upon layer, each surge heavier than the last until the entire chamber vibrated under the weight of it.
And then it cracked.
The barrier shattered, and Yao Jun's aura exploded outward like a hurricane unleashed, sweeping across the chamber in a tidal wave of wind Qi. Cultivators shielded their eyes, robes snapping violently in the gusts, faces pale under the pressure.
When it finally settled, Yao Jun floated down lightly, his calm smile unchanged.
"Demi-Conqueror Realm… Level One," someone whispered, voice trembling.
Now there were two.
Two pillars in the chamber.
That was the turning point.
The years that followed changed everything.
By the second year, fights for territory and resources slowed as Shen Hao and Yao Jun began enforcing order. People brought disputes to them to mediate, some out of respect, others out of sheer fear.
By the third year, factions started forming, not gangs, not loose alliances, but structured groups with ranks, duties, and leaders. Some handled trading, others specialized in healing or pill refinement. A few became guards, keeping watch when cultivators entered deep meditation.
What had begun as chaos slowly started to resemble something else.
A sect.
Shen Hao never claimed leadership, yet people listened when he spoke.
Yao Jun never asked for followers, yet they gathered around him, drawn by his calm voice and quiet strength.
Together, they shaped the rules. No killing duels. No theft during meditation. Disputes settled with either duels or arbitration. Those who refused found themselves facing both pillars at once, and no one was foolish enough to test them twice.
Year by year, the chamber changed.
By the fifth year, the first breakthroughs beyond Beginning Realm started happening among the others. A few cultivators reached peak levels, some even brushing against the Demi-Conqueror threshold.
None crossed it.
Not with Shen Hao and Yao Jun already towering above them like immovable mountains.
By the seventh year, the chamber wasn't just a temporary refuge anymore. It had halls, markets, training grounds carved from stone, even places where cultivators gathered to debate techniques or trade manuals.
They called it the Inner Flame Sect, half in honor of Shen Hao's fiery power, half in respect to the storm Yao Jun commanded.
And at its heart sat the two pillars, untouchable.
By the ninth year, Shen Hao had reached Demi-Conqueror Realm Level 3 Peak. His aura burned like a sun contained, terrifying yet controlled.
Yao Jun followed close behind at Level 3 High, his wind Qi sharp enough to slice stone like paper.
The chamber had changed completely. From chaos, a sect had risen, rules and order binding what once had been lawless.
And then, finally, as the tenth year came to a close…
The door began to glow.
The tenth year ended with a single sound.
Crack.
The runes on the massive stone door blazed with white light, ancient chains of Qi splintering and falling away like glass under a hammer. The entire chamber trembled, dust cascading from the high ceiling as the path to the outside world opened for the first time in a decade.
Every cultivator rose to their feet.
Some stood with trembling knees, eyes wide. Others exhaled slowly, faces calm but hearts pounding. They had walked into this place ten years ago as strangers. Many had been rivals. Some had been enemies.
Now they walked out as something else entirely.
Shen Hao stepped forward first.
He walked slowly, each step echoing across the chamber's stone floor. His long coat shifted faintly in the wind rushing through the newly opened gate, his aura burning just enough to make the air ripple around him.
Ten years ago, he had been just another cultivator entering the Echoing Mountain Realm.
Now… the mountain itself seemed to step back as he passed.
He rose into the air the moment he cleared the threshold, boots leaving the ground as flames coiled faintly around his shoulders. The world outside stretched before him, rivers flashing like silver threads, forests rolling like emerald seas, skies so wide they seemed to swallow the horizon.
Ten years had passed here. Ten hours in the outside world.
But to him, it felt like a lifetime.
A ripple of wind split the air behind him.
Yao Jun appeared out of thin air, teleporting with casual ease, his robe sleeves barely fluttering as he floated beside Shen Hao. His aura flowed like a calm storm, controlled but vast, a presence that pressed faintly on the world around them.
He looked at the horizon, the faintest smile touching his lips.
"Ten years," he said softly. "And the world hasn't changed at all."
Shen Hao's gaze swept across the land, his voice low, steady.
"No," he said. "But we have."
The two of them hovered above the mountain's edge, silent for a moment as the wind whipped past.
Behind them, the other cultivators filed out slowly, whispering, watching the two pillars in silence. No one dared break the moment.
Because everyone knew: the mountain had released more than survivors.
It had released monsters.