"Okay, it's time to tackle the harder part," Xuefeng muttered, settling back onto the bed. He could still feel the flow of his Spirit Qi inside the clone, the connection vibrant and responsive. So far, so good.
The next challenge was movement—getting the clone to navigate the room. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the link. His Spirit Qi coursed through the clone's form, inhabiting it fully. Fingers first. A twitch. Then toes. A slow flex. Gradually, he advanced to arms and legs, each movement stiff and jerky at first but smoothing out with practice.
When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see himself staring back. The sensation was uncanny, a strange detachment as though he were watching a stranger mimic his every motion. The dual perspectives clashed violently, and a sharp pain stabbed through his head as two images collided in his mind. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
He shut his eyes immediately, the pain dissipating as quickly as it had come. Too much at once, he thought, chastising himself. Reviewing the Spirit Art's instructions in his mind, he found the solution: split his perception, dividing his attention between himself and the clone.
With cautious determination, Xuefeng opened his eyes again, this time directing one perspective to each image. The result was dizzying at first but manageable. To his relief, the pain stayed away.
The clone began moving around the room in slow, deliberate steps. Its gait improved with every lap, each motion becoming more fluid, more human. Xuefeng stood and walked toward the clone, extending his arm to shake hands. Their palms met in a firm grip, the touch surreal.
After twenty minutes, the clone moved as naturally as Xuefeng himself. A mischievous thought struck him: If it moves like me, could it talk like me too? The idea was tantalizing. If he could pull it off, the clone would be a truly formidable tool, capable of more than just physical deception.
He analyzed the mechanics of speech—vocal cords, tongue, mouth movements—and attempted to replicate them within the clone. "Hi," the clone said, its voice indistinguishable from his own. The sound sent a thrill through him.
"It works!" Xuefeng grinned. "The only problem is, I have to program every word manually." He sighed, recognizing the limitations but deciding to focus on the basics. A few phrases would suffice for now: "Yes," "No," "My name is Liu Xuefeng," "You look really pretty," and other essentials.
After an hour of practice, he decided it was time to test the clone on someone else. Wuying was his target. If this works on her, it'll work on anyone.
The clone exited through the side door, entering the bathroom first. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, fresh and inviting. She must have just bathed, Xuefeng noted, his attention sharpening. Wuying usually bathed when she knew he wasn't around. Her altered routine caught him off guard.
He knocked lightly on her door, his voice low and even. "Are you asleep?"
"No, you can come in," Wuying's voice responded, calm but curious.
The clone stepped inside, and Xuefeng, controlling it from afar, took in the sight of Wuying combing her damp hair, clad only in a loosely tied bathrobe. The sight would normally have turned his face crimson, but this time, he had to simulate the reaction. Carefully, he adjusted the clone's expression, adding a hint of bashfulness.
"Let me do it for you," the clone said, its tone soft and unassuming.
Wuying raised an eyebrow but didn't protest. She handed over the comb, turning her back. "Go ahead."
It's working, Xuefeng thought triumphantly as the clone approached. But as he reached out with the comb, a searing pain ripped through his abdomen.
He glanced down. Two blood-red daggers protruded from the clone's stomach. Shock jolted through him as he looked up at Wuying. Her expression was cold, her eyes piercing.
"Who are you?" she demanded, yanking the daggers free. Blood spilled onto the floor as she pressed one blade against the clone's throat. "You're not my Xuefeng."
Xuefeng, controlling the clone, felt the phantom pain radiating through his body, but it wasn't real. Gritting his teeth, he severed the connection before it overwhelmed him. The clone collapsed, its Spirit Qi dissipating rapidly as it deteriorated into nothingness.
Moments later, Wuying rushed to the door, where the real Xuefeng stood, his expression equal parts sheepish and annoyed. He sighed as the remnants of his clone faded into the air.
"How did you know it wasn't me?" he asked, disappointed.
"What? That was you?" she exclaimed, nearly colliding with him in her rush. "When did you even learn this Spirit Art?"
"Just now," he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It's a modified version of the Clone Arts I found earlier."
Wuying's astonishment was palpable. "That clone was almost perfect. I thought it was someone imitating you. Your smell gave it away."
"My smell?" Xuefeng asked, incredulous. "How do you even know how I smell?"
Wuying's cheeks reddened, her voice softening. "I've spent enough time with you to recognize it. If you'd tried this on Princess Shan, she wouldn't have noticed."
Xuefeng couldn't help but grin at the unintended compliment. "Guess I'll work on the smell next. Nothing's perfect, right?"
She crossed her arms, her tone turning curious. "You said you combined Spirit Arts? How did you even manage that? I've never seen a clone so detailed."
He shrugged. "My master helped. We just tried a few things, and it worked out."
"Your master must be incredible," Wuying said, awe creeping into her voice. "Don't tell me you also figured out how to make the clone absorb Spirit Essence?"
Xuefeng's eyes widened. "Wait—that's possible? Why didn't I think of that? I'll try it tomorrow." He slapped his forehead, annoyed at himself for missing such an obvious feature.
Wuying chuckled, then suggested, "Use Spirit Stones to replenish your Qi faster. Ask the clan leader for some tomorrow."
"Good idea," Xuefeng nodded. A brief silence followed, awkward yet charged.
"I'll head back," Xuefeng said, breaking the tension.
Wuying nodded, her head lowered. But as he turned to leave, he glanced back with a cheeky grin. "By the way, I could see everything from up here."
Her eyes widened as she looked down, realizing how loosely her robe hung. She clutched it to her chest, her face burning. "Stupid…" she muttered under her breath.
Xuefeng returned to his room, laughing quietly to himself.