When Xuefeng returned to the courtyard, the evening was settling in, casting long shadows across the stone tiles. The food laid out for them had already gone cold, the faint aroma of the meal lingering like a ghost of its former warmth. Wuying, still recovering from the earlier battle, hadn't had time to prepare a fresh meal. They had no choice but to eat what was available.
Though the chill of the food did little to satisfy, they ate in silence. Wuying, pale but resolute, finished her plate quickly—she needed the nourishment to replenish the blood she had lost. Pills could help, but nothing replaced the grounding effect of food. Her Spirit Qi reserves, strained from the fight, were too depleted to accelerate her recovery.
The quiet between them wasn't tense but heavy, laden with unspoken acknowledgment. After the day's clash, the women had gained a grudging respect for each other. When the meal ended, they exchanged brief glances before retreating to their respective rooms. Neither needed to speak; the mutual understanding was enough.
Before leaving, Wuying paused at the door to her room. "Try to pick a Spirit Art you like for now," she said, her tone practical, though a hint of weariness crept in. "I'll help you with anything you don't understand later. Tomorrow morning, we start your physical training. Cultivation isn't just about your dantian—it's about your body too."
Xuefeng nodded, watching her disappear into her quarters. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of red and gold, he sighed deeply. Four days. Four days since his reincarnation into this strange, perilous world. And the longer he stayed, the more its dangers loomed.
He entered his room and collapsed onto the bed, his thoughts swirling like restless shadows. Ling, he called inwardly, how's the progress on modifying the Spirit Arts?
Her voice, calm and steady, filled his mind. Almost done with the Clone Arts. What's next?
He considered her question for a moment, then decided. How about a Sword Art for attacking? Right now, I can barely swing a sword properly.
Ling chuckled softly. As you wish. You said you wanted to get stronger, right? The quickest way is to gather more Fate Fragments. Each fragment grants a unique ability. But remember, if you kill someone with multiple fragments, you'll only receive the primary one. The others will vanish.
Her voice grew more serious. And don't forget—you still need to think of a way to get Princess Shan's necklace.
Xuefeng frowned, his mind drifting to the delicate piece of jewelry that represented his lifeline. I could trade her the gift I got from the Spirit Treasury, he mused. Or... I could pin her down and grab it by force. He shook his head, half-laughing at his own audacity. But the image lingered, vivid and unsettling.
His high spirits faded, replaced by a pang of longing. If this keeps up, Tianshi will become just a memory, he thought bitterly. His mind wandered back to Earth, imagining the life he'd left behind. They've probably had my funeral by now. Tianshi... She's devastated. But eventually, she'll move on, find someone else, have kids... The thought was too much, and he forced himself to stop.
Ling's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. I'm done. It turned out decent. Come to my space to see.
Grateful for the distraction, Xuefeng sat up cross-legged and closed his eyes. His consciousness slipped into his dantian with ease—a skill that was quickly becoming second nature. Within the space of his Spirit, the treasures from the Spirit Treasury gleamed faintly, and black orbs hovered like stars in the void.
He pointed to the orbs. Are these the Spirit Arts?
Yes, Ling replied, pride tinging her voice. One of the orbs drifted toward him, tinged with gold. This is the one I just finished.
The orb settled into his palm, its surface cool and humming with latent power. What do I do with it? he asked.
Absorb it. The knowledge will integrate with your mind automatically.
He did as instructed, and the sensation was immediate—his head filled with a torrent of information, like pages of a book being burned into his memory. The art's intricacies unfolded in his mind, every detail etched as if he'd spent years mastering it. This version of the Clone Art was faster, smoother, and far more efficient. He could manipulate the amount of Spirit Qi within each clone, ensuring their durability. But there was a catch—he had to control them manually, splitting his focus to direct their movements.
This is incredible, Xuefeng said, his excitement breaking through. You did amazing, Ling.
There's one limitation, she cautioned. You can't clone the special features of your Spirit Artifacts—like your Black Flames. You can replicate the blade's sharpness, but not its soul.
He nodded thoughtfully. That's fair. Still, you've done great work. I'll practice it now.
Back in his room, Xuefeng stood and took a deep breath. This would be his first time using his Spirit Qi for an advanced Spirit Art. Following the instructions now embedded in his mind, he scanned his body with his Qi, molding it into a shell of energy that would become his clone. The more Qi he used, the more lifelike the clone would be.
He poured three-tenths of his Qi into the process, carefully shaping muscles, bones, and skin. It was painstaking work, but he didn't rush. After two minutes, the clone was complete—a perfect replica, save for the delay in clothing. He frowned, hastily forming layers of fabric over the clone's naked body. Next time, do it all at once, he chastised himself, cringing at the thought of someone walking in mid-creation.
The clone stood before him, still as a statue, awaiting his command. Xuefeng studied it, pride swelling in his chest. It wasn't perfect, but for a first attempt, it was more than he had hoped for.
"Now," he muttered, a smile tugging at his lips, "I need a name for this art." He glanced at the clone, then at his hands, as if the answer might appear in the air before him. Ling, any ideas?
Call it whatever you like, she replied dismissively. You're not going to shout the name when you use it. It's roughly a Rank 5 art.
He chuckled. "Fine. For now, I'll call it the Thousand Clones Spirit Art. Eventually, I'll get to a thousand, right?"
The name was basic, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the potential it held. And as Xuefeng turned his attention to his motionless double, he felt a surge of determination. This was only the beginning.