The arms healed in four days. Iron Moth's qi burst had done internal work — compressed the qi channels rather than breaking them. The healing specialist said it was the kind of damage that happened to people who blocked things they shouldn't block.
Wen Dao spent those four days in the cultivation chamber.
The Black River Stones were now set around him in the three-stone configuration that maximized ambient qi flow — he had read the optimal placement in a technique manual he'd found in the restricted section. The stones emitted passive qi at a density roughly equal to the sect's second-level cultivation hall.
He ran the Pale Flame circulation continuously. Hour after hour. Building pressure in the dantian. Building density. Building toward the threshold.
Cai Rong checked in twice daily with food and brief reports on sect activity. Iron Moth's group had been tracked as far as the river crossing twenty miles south. They had not returned.
On the third day, Fang Lie appeared at the cultivation room door.
Wen Dao opened his eyes.
"The inner ranking trials," Fang Lie said without preamble. "Announced for next month. External sect observers will attend." He paused. "The Zhao family has submitted a guest disciple application. The guest slot was approved by Elder Huang this morning."
"Who?"
"Zhao Mingyu. Third son of the family's eastern branch. Qi Condensation Level Four." His flat eyes were steady. "He is two full levels above you currently."
Wen Dao thought about that.
"He's coming specifically for me."
"The Zhao family wants to demonstrate publicly that their resources exceed yours. A ranking trial loss in front of observers is efficient humiliation — it damages your standing with potential sect backing and puts pressure on Elder Tang's position."
"When exactly is the trial?"
"One month and three days."
One month. Three days.
"Thank you," Wen Dao said.
Fang Lie nodded once and left without further words.
Wen Dao closed his eyes and went back into the circulation.
On the fourth day, at the deepest point of the third cultivation hour, the threshold broke.
Not gradually. A snap — the dantian's capacity restructuring itself in a single decisive moment. Qi flooded the expanded space. The Pale Flame circulation pattern shifted, the flame-shape reorganizing into a larger, more complex formation.
Qi Condensation Level Three.
He sat with it for a while. Let the new density settle.
Then he raised his right hand and formed a qi column.
Level Three qi was substantially different from Level Two. Denser. More responsive. The Question Fist's advanced forms, which had been technically achievable at Level Two but physically awkward, now assembled smoothly. The Pale Flame reading-sense extended to nearly twelve feet of reliable range.
He stood up.
One month until Zhao Mingyu at Level Four.
One month to close a one-level gap.
He looked at the Black River Stones.
He looked at the door.
He began again.