Jian Wuxin lay in the mouth of the cave, chewing a strip of dried meat. Night had fully swallowed the mountains, and the fire crackled quietly beside him, shadows dancing along the stone walls.
He stared at the strange book—A Beginner's Biography of Cultivation—resting beside the pouch of glowing stones.
With a grunt, he sat up, grabbed the book, and flipped through its pages again. Most of it still read like nonsense, but one diagram showed a figure sitting cross-legged with strange arrows swirling around its chest and limbs.
> Sit as shown. Breathe evenly. Hold a spirit stone in hand. Focus on the stone's energy and allow it to flow inward through the Dantian.
He rolled his eyes. "Rich boy yoga."
Still, he took one of the glowing stones from the pouch. It was warm to the touch.
Sitting cross-legged, he mimicked the diagram. "What the hell," he muttered. "If I explode, I'll haunt that scholar's soul."
He held the stone in both hands, closed his eyes, and focused.
At first, nothing happened. He just sat in the quiet, breathing.
Then... a tingle.
He blinked.
The stone grew faintly warmer. Something like mist crept up his arms—soft, invisible, but undeniably real. It entered through his hands and sank into his belly, as if drawn by something ancient and hungry within him.
He gasped and dropped the stone. The glow had dimmed slightly.
"What... was that?"
He looked down at his hands. Nothing had changed.
No glowing tattoos. No lightning in the sky. No booming heavens declaring him a chosen one.
But he felt... sharper. Like he'd taken a deep breath for the first time in years.
He reached for the book again and turned to the page describing Spirit Root testing.
> Place your palm on the marked page. With some Qi drawn in, even a weak root will respond to the flow and reveal itself.
He pressed his hand to the page.
This time, the book pulsed with light.
Faint lines appeared beneath his palm—white, then green, glowing faintly like embers.
More lines followed. Three... four... five.
Then the glow solidified into one clear, green symbol that shimmered with life. Earth-grade.
His heart thumped.
"Spirit Root... I really have one?"
He leaned back, dazed. "Does that mean I'm a... cultivator?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet. But maybe... maybe I could be."
His eyes drifted to the cloth-wrapped banner lying near his pack.
It had whispered to him in his sleep. He was sure of it.
Slowly, he pulled it free.
The cloth unwrapped like peeling skin, revealing a long strip of black silk embroidered with faded runes in blood-red thread. The moment it touched open air, the fire dimmed. The cave grew cold.
His breath misted.
And from the silk, a whisper came—not to his ears, but deep within his mind:
> Feed me... and I shall give you dominion over death.
He dropped it, stumbling back, heart racing.
"What in the hells...?"
But even as fear prickled his skin, Jian Wuxin couldn't stop staring.
The Soul Devouring Banner... had awakened.