The fox stood still for a moment, her fingers resting lightly against the storage pouch at her waist.
No soul imprint.
That was wrong.
Artifacts refined by cultivators always carried traces—ownership marks, spiritual authority, remnants of control. Even if faint, there was always something left behind.
Yet this banner was empty of it.
Completely empty.
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Why is there no imprint?" she muttered.
Had the owner already died?
Had someone forcibly erased the mark?
Or—
Was it designed that way from the beginning?
Her mind moved quickly through the possibilities.
A trap.
A baited tool.
A disposable artifact meant to change hands.
Or simply an unfinished refinement.
Silence stretched for a breath.
Then she exhaled softly.
"It doesn't matter."
If there was no imprint, there was no restriction.
No need to sever ownership.
No risk of backlash.
No resistance from a lingering will.
That only made things easier.
Her lips curved faintly.
"I want to see how many souls are stored inside."
Since nothing restricted its use—
She could probe it directly.
Her divine sense extended once more, sharper this time, threading outward with careful precision as it brushed against the ghost banner.
Carefully.
Testing.
If it reacted, she would withdraw.
If it resisted, she would analyze.
But if it accepted—
Then she would see exactly what kind of treasure had just fallen into her hands.
Her divine sense slipped into the banner.
Cold.
Dense.
Heavy with yin.
She searched deeper.
Layer after layer of spiritual structure unfolded before her perception.
Expectation flickered briefly in her turquoise eyes—
Then faded.
Nothing significant.
No Foundation Establishment souls.
No refined cultivator spirits.
No powerful remnants sealed within.
Only resentment ghosts.
Weak.
Fragmented.
Villagers.
Common mortals whose souls had been twisted and distorted by death energy.
Her brows knit slightly.
"There isn't even one Foundation Establishment soul inside," she said.
Disappointment colored her tone.
"So the puppet killed them."
Her gaze drifted toward where the controlled cultivator's body still hung in the serpents' coils.
"The banner must have been handed to him for refinement."
Not for combat.
Not for harvesting powerful souls.
Just to accumulate death energy.
To nurture resentment.
To slowly strengthen it over time.
She gave a faint smile.
"In that case… I should thank them."
Her fingers tightened lightly around the pouch.
"They helped refine my tool."
All that slaughter.
All that resentment.
All that condensed yin energy.
Stored.
Waiting.
And now—
It belonged to her.
She lifted her hand and closed her eyes briefly.
Her divine sense expanded outward again, spreading across the ruined village like a thin veil.
Searching.
Feeling for lingering fluctuations.
Broken soul fragments.
Resentment that had not yet dissipated into nothingness.
If the banner could collect them—
There was no reason to leave them behind.
"I'll call back what's left," she murmured.
Yin qi stirred faintly around her.
She withdrew the banner.
It unfurled slightly in her grasp, its surface dark and heavy with contained resentment.
She channeled a thread of yin into it.
And attempted to summon the remaining ghosts still wandering the village.
The banner glowed faintly.
The air shifted.
From shattered buildings.
From collapsed rooftops.
From beneath broken beams and overturned carts—
Shapes began to emerge.
Translucent.
Distorted.
Five ghosts drifted forward, pulled by her summons.
They moved quickly toward her, drawn helplessly by the banner's call.
She counted them with a glance.
"Only five left," she said quietly. "Most were destroyed during the battle."
Resentment clung to them, thin and unstable.
Not impressive.
Not powerful.
But still usable.
Then—
Her eyes sharpened.
"What's that?"
One of the ghosts was dragging something.
A small figure.
Held by the collar.
Dangling limply.
The fox stepped forward, her gaze narrowing.
The shape became clearer as it drifted closer.
Small frame.
White hair.
A little girl.
Alive.
The fox stared.
"…Oh."
Her expression shifted slightly.
"It's a child."
The ghost holding her hovered closer, its grip loose yet possessive.
The girl's head hung forward.
Breathing.
Faint.
But steady.
The fox's eyes flickered with calculation.
"They were going to kill her as well?"
Her gaze hardened.
"But she's still alive."
That meant she had been overlooked.
Or preserved for some purpose.
Or perhaps—
The battle had interrupted whatever was intended.
The resentment ghosts circled loosely, still drawn toward the banner's pull.
The little girl stirred weakly in the ghost's grasp.
The fox stepped closer, eyes fixed on her.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She observed the child more carefully.
White hair.
Pale skin.
Breathing steady despite the thick yin qi saturating the village.
Her gaze sharpened.
"I was wondering," she said slowly, "how a child managed to stay alive in a place filled with death energy."
The air was saturated with resentment.
Even ordinary cultivators would feel discomfort here.
A mortal child should have withered.
Collapsed.
Possibly died.
Yet she remained alive.
Not corrupted.
Not possessed.
The fox's eyes gleamed faintly with realization.
"But now I have the answer."
She extended her divine sense gently this time, brushing against the child's body with extreme care.
Pure.
Strangely balanced.
Not devoured by yin.
Not overwhelmed.
Instead—
Harmonized.
A natural compatibility.
"A physique," she murmured.
Special constitutions were rare.
Some attracted fire.
Some harmonized with lightning.
Some neutralized poison.
This one—
Resisted death.
Or perhaps absorbed it harmlessly.
Her gaze lingered on the girl.
"That's why she survived."
Not luck.
Not coincidence.
Talent.
The resentment ghosts hovered restlessly nearby, yet they did not dare approach the child too closely.
Even in their twisted state, instinct guided them.
The fox looked between the child and the spirits.
Interesting.
Very interesting indeed.
She continued studying the girl, her eyes thoughtful.
"I don't know what physique it actually is," she said quietly, "but it should be one connected with yin energy."
Her gaze lingered on the girl's white hair.
"Compatible with death qi. Resistant to resentment. Perhaps even capable of refining it."
Rare.
Extremely rare.
The resentment ghosts circled but kept their distance from the child, as if wary of approaching too close.
The lizard stood a short distance away, golden eyes fixed on the scene. Its ears twitched faintly as it listened and observed.
So this human has a physique.
A talent.
Something innate.
Something that assists cultivation without effort.
Humans were fragile.
Short-lived.
Yet they created techniques.
Formations.
Artifacts.
And now—
Here stood one born with an advantage.
This is the first time I've seen a human who possesses one.
Interesting.
Not prey.
Not ordinary.
Its gaze remained steady on the small figure.
No emotion.
Only observation.
Assessment.
The night air settled around them.
The banner hummed faintly in the fox's hand.
Five resentment ghosts drifted in slow circles.