Tonight, there was no moon or stars.
The entire Lingfu Sect was shrouded in darkness, silent as if isolated from the world.
Chen An sat cross-legged on his bed, holding the jade slip that recorded the method of crafting the Puppet Talisman. His expression was tense, his breath uneven, betraying the turmoil within.
As he prepared to begin crafting the talisman, his mind involuntarily recalled the stern warnings from the elder of the Scripture Hall.
Attempting to craft high-level talismans with insufficient cultivation could lead to disastrous results. The violent power surging through the talisman might overwhelm the cultivator's body, resulting in death by explosion. For someone like Chen An, in the early Qi Condensation stage, to attempt a second-tier talisman was practically a death sentence.
At first, the Scripture Hall elder outright refused to let Chen An borrow the jade slip. Only after Chen An mentioned Sect Master Meng Wentian's name and swore he merely intended to study, not craft, the talisman, was the jade slip reluctantly handed over.
But only Chen An knew the truth—he didn't borrow the jade slip just to study it. He intended to create the talisman to gain a life-saving measure for his upcoming hunt of the Hundred-Eyed Giant Toad.
But was it worth risking his life to craft something meant to save it?
Torn between hesitation and resolve, Chen An's mind wrestled with the choice.
"...Hiss...Hiss…"
A soft sound diverted his attention. The crimson snake, Honghuan, was slithering across the table, greedily devouring the poisonous herbs Chen An had prepared for it. Watching the snake grow stronger by consuming toxins reminded Chen An of his path as a cultivator. How could he retreat from danger when even a mere snake pushed forward to survive and grow?
He knew all too well that the path of cultivation was fraught with peril. If he backed down now, he might as well abandon cultivation entirely and return to his life as a bandit.
Moreover, Chen An possessed an unparalleled talent for talismans. Who knew? Perhaps he might succeed despite the odds.
With this thought, Chen An steeled himself.
He took a deep breath, channeling his spiritual energy into the jade slip. Instantly, a sharp pain pierced his mind as a stream of extraordinarily intricate inscriptions etched themselves into his consciousness.
These symbols were more complex than anything Chen An had ever encountered, their profound intricacies defying his understanding.
The more he tried to comprehend the inscriptions, the more alien and elusive they seemed.
Realizing he couldn't understand them through conventional means, Chen An shifted his approach. Instead of deciphering their meaning, he focused solely on memorizing the sequence and nuances of their formation. As long as he could replicate the symbols flawlessly, the talisman would succeed.
This method bypassed the most challenging obstacle and offered a glimmer of hope.
Resolved, Chen An committed himself to the arduous task of imprinting every stroke and detail of the Puppet Talisman into his mind.
The process, though seemingly straightforward, proved grueling. Some might accomplish it within an hour with exceptional memory, but Chen An spent three whole days and nights engraving the talisman's complexities into his memory.
For someone as sharp as Chen An, this difficulty was sobering. It underscored just how vast the leap from first-tier to second-tier talismans truly was.
While first-tier talismans were second nature to him, crafting the Puppet Talisman felt like grappling with an impenetrable puzzle.
Still, this challenge only fueled Chen An's determination. The stronger the talisman, the better his chances of survival against the Hundred-Eyed Giant Toad. This alone solidified his resolve.
"Let's do this," he muttered.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Chen An laid a talisman paper before him. Guiding his brush with spiritual energy, he dipped it into cinnabar and began to inscribe the first symbol.
A vivid red line appeared on the talisman paper, glowing faintly as if striving to pierce the surrounding darkness. This was a promising start—proof that Chen An was on the right track.
But his progress halted there. After inscribing the first symbol, Chen An froze for over half an hour, unable to proceed with the second. His entire body trembled violently, sweat pouring from his forehead and forming a puddle on the floor. His body emitted wisps of steam as if he were trapped in a furnace.
"Pfft!"
Chen An spat out a mouthful of blood, abruptly breaking his trance. His body collapsed onto the bed, completely drained of strength.
His first attempt at crafting the Puppet Talisman had failed.
But the failure did not come without cost. The spiritual energy in his dantian was entirely depleted, and his body had reached the brink of collapse—a level of exhaustion he had never experienced when crafting first-tier talismans.
Under normal circumstances, Chen An would have reconsidered continuing after such a setback.
But this time was different.
For reasons he couldn't fully explain, a stubborn resolve surged from deep within. The greater the resistance, the more determined he became to break through.
This stubbornness was a core part of Chen An's character.
As a child, he and his father had camped in the mountains for a month to track down a boar that had attacked their village. As a cultivator, he had meticulously laid a poison trap for Elder Gu over weeks, enduring humiliation and biding his time until the perfect moment to strike.
And now, with success tantalizingly close, separated only by a talisman paper, Chen An's tenacity flared once more.
Sweeping his sleeve, he emptied his storage pouch of all its spirit stones, a small fortune he had painstakingly amassed. Absorbing the energy from a few stones, he replenished his spiritual power and immediately resumed crafting.
This marked the beginning of a grueling, repetitive cycle.
Each failure drained him of spiritual energy, leaving him depleted. Each time, Chen An replenished his strength with spirit stones and tried again.
This unrelenting process was mechanical, devoid of beauty, and filled with frustration. But Chen An persisted, undeterred by the toll on his body or the dwindling pile of spirit stones.
He cared not for the cost—he cared only for success.