Where Immortals Once Walked

The true value of the Clone Technique lay in the fact that the clones he made using it obeyed his commands.

This was the difference between a mass-market technique anyone could redeem and a genuinely exclusive technique.

A mirror image was merely a projection of one’s combat intent. It had only fighting instinct and nothing more. However, a clone was different. He Lingchuan could speak through it, see through it, and even split his attention to control it while doing something else. It was not just something that he could only order to run up and hit things. If he wanted, it could climb up onto a roof and rip off tiles, or it could sit down and thread a needle, embroidering as neatly as a careful seamstress. If he did not mind the short duration, it could even... do some vigorous physical activity.

Once you extended the idea outward, the clone’s applications became limitless. It all depended on how he chose to use it.

This was a true “self beyond the self.”

It was no wonder Old Man Wang had seen the potential and refused to give up, shoving money into the gold-swallowing beast’s mouth again and again, trying to fill it.

Unfortunately, the task had been far beyond what a man like him could accomplish.

So the question now was, could He Lingchuan satisfy the gold-swallowing beast’s appetite?

Old Man Wang’s personal best had been seven hundred taels of silver plus two huge eastern pearls in one feeding, and even that had not done it.

He Lingchuan counted his own assets and discovered he did not even have a third of that amount. He was nowhere close.

The thing’s called a gold-swallowing beast, but it doesn’t only eat gold and silver...

Old Man Wang had poured everything into it and reached one grim conclusion, which was that human treasures could not satisfy it at all.

Even a gold-swallowing beast had standards. It demanded quality.

And true treasures were never about quantity.

He Lingchuan laid out everything he carried on the table and examined the items one by one.

He had the shells of candy snails, but these were things that only humans really cared about. The gold-swallowing beast definitely could not care less for it.

In the dreamscape, he did not even have a single piece of profound crystal. Otherwise, he could have tried one.

Of course, he also had all kinds of weapons, a little gold and silver... When he actually added it up, he realized he had not accumulated much wealth at all inside the dreamscape.

The only thing that could truly be called a supreme treasure was probably Fleeting Life.

The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the treasured saber trembled angrily twice as if it were saying: Don’t you dare.

Well, he did not dare. Besides, if he tossed Fleeting Life into the beast’s mouth, he had no idea who would end up “eating” whom.

And yet this Clone Technique was extremely useful. It might be a crucial aid for his current real-world predicament.

He stared at the table again and again, until his gaze abruptly stopped on two unimpressive-looking little items.

The two silkworm pupa-looking objects.

Strictly speaking, they were the brain cores of the two last-born ferry-crossing spawn.

One could create a blood-and-flesh fortress for one or two hours. The other was already broken, and its function was still unknown.

The Ferry-Crossing Mother was a god. Then surely its offspring, at the very least, carried the title of divine child, did they not?

If so, these two brain cores could not be considered ordinary objects—or, in Old Man Wang’s terms, they were not mortal-realm treasures.

He remembered that the Red General had said that there was still a trace of divine energy lingering in them.

Then, I guess I’ll give these a try?

He Lingchuan picked up the broken ferry-crossing brain core. It was useless for anything else anyway.

He prepared paper and brush first, ground ink on the inkstone, then dropped the core into the yawning beast-mouth illustration on the scroll.

Sure enough, it vanished instantly, as if it had fallen into a bottomless pit.

Two breaths passed.

Five breaths passed.

However, nothing happened. There was not even the slightest flicker of anything changing. It was worse than feeding it a copper coin.

Is it not digesting it?

He Lingchuan sighed despite himself, finally tasting the frustration Old Man Wang had lived with, wanting desperately and never getting what he was wanting for.

This damned gold-swallowing beast. That damned old scammer.

He was willing to accept one failure. He had no intention of wasting the second brain core. The more you throw in, the more you lose; the more you lose, the more you throw in, hoping to win it back—that was plain gambler thinking.

But just as He Lingchuan was about to put the scroll away, the beast skin suddenly shimmered with red light.

Then the beast-head illustration, perpetually drawn with its mouth wide open, actually closed its mouth.

The ragged beast-skin restored itself at a speed visible to the naked eye. The wormholes, tears, and stains that once covered the entire scroll all rapidly vanished. The missing sections were rapidly filled in, while the once-dull immortal script reappeared as crisp, bright vermilion-red characters.

In the time it took to breathe ten times, the beast-skin scroll in front of him became spotless and complete, as if it had just been written.

Clearly, the gold-swallowing beast was very satisfied with his offering, and it was now completely full.

As expected, a product of the gods really is no ordinary thing.

So is it eternal greed triumphing over eternal time?

He Lingchuan gave a quiet, wry sigh and began writing furiously.

Before the gold-swallowing beast hide finished “digesting” the brain core, he had to copy down the secret technique in full.

Fortunately, it seemed especially well-fed this time. The hide remained in its fully restored state for a full hour.

That was enough for He Lingchuan to copy everything, then check his work several times over.

Only after an hour did the hide slowly shrink back, reverting into a ragged, broken sheet once more.

He Lingchuan lifted the divine technique formula he had copied and read it again and again, then finally let out a long breath. His heart was roaring with joy.

Besides the clone’s ability to obey commands, the technique also mentioned another crucial benefit.

The clone could make use of equipment.

If you truly thought about it, the possibilities were endless.

He immediately left the quiet room. Using his status as the shop’s landlord, he wrung an absurdly low “tenant discount” out of the plump shopkeeper, then bought a full set of gear for his clone: a suit of light armor made from python-monster hide, swift boots, a set of throwing knives, and two pairs of refined iron twin blades.

Yes, whatever techniques He Lingchuan knew, the clone could use as well.

He was already eagerly picturing the scene of his clone and himself carving enemies together in synchronized slashes.

Even at a bone-breaking discount, anything even vaguely related to magical artifacts was insanely expensive. With one purchase, he had burned through a sizable chunk of his savings.

Sigh, my money and military merit both vanish the moment I loosen my grip.

And even after that, the crafty shopkeeper still felt cheated. He dragged out a few bottles of pills and a set of talisman records, trying hard to upsell him. He Lingchuan thought of how, in the dreamscape city, he no longer had the medicine ape brewing remedies for him, and A’Luo was busy to the point of madness, so he bought a small emergency supply.

The shopkeeper barely managed to claw back a point.

After that, He Lingchuan finally went to the Bureau of Bright Prospects.

With the Clone Technique in hand, the merits he had planned to spend on Mirror Image Art could be saved. After long consideration, he exchanged for another divine technique instead, called “Stubborn as Stone[1].”

This minor divine technique did not cost much merit, but it was extremely practical. It allowed the user to enter a stone state in which all their acupoints would be sealed, their breath would be cut off, their heartbeat would stop, and even their spiritual sense could be hidden.

With a bit of surface camouflage on top, someone scanning with spiritual sense would likely assume it was ordinary wood or stone, not a human.

And the more advanced your cultivation, the longer the stoen state could last.

After that, He Lingchuan hurried back to his lodging.

For the next three days, he ignored everything outside the window and focused purely on studying the two new techniques.

In reality, his true self was in danger. One more measure of strength meant one more measure of protection, and an improved chance at survival.

In the end, He Lingchuan summarized his results.

As a beginner, his “Stubborn as Stone” could last nearly a quarter-hour.

As for the Clone Technique, he could currently summon only one clone. Its constitution, strength, and speed were identical to his main body, but this clone could only last about twelve breaths, and if it suffered a lethal blow, it would vanish early.

The clone could move up to about forty meters away, it could wear gear, and it could act according to his will. Additionally, if He Lingchuan himself was too busy to spare attention, it would automatically attack enemies.

It’s actually kind of smart, eh?

However, he could only summon it once every two hours.

And at his current level of cultivation, each summon drained more than half his true energy. So choosing when to use it required careful calculation.

Worse, during its existence, the clone continuously consumed true energy, and that cost was deducted from He Lingchuan’s main body.

This meant that if He Lingchuan summoned a clone, his true energy would drop by half immediately, and afterward he would have to pay for both his own combat expenditure and the clone’s.

This meant at least double the burn rate.

He Lingchuan counted on his fingers for a long time. One new major skill, and suddenly his true energy felt painfully insufficient.

It seemed he would have to work even harder to raise his cultivation, increasing both the quality and quantity of his true energy.

* * *

A purple moorhen foraged among the ruins of the Jiana Tribe. Suddenly, the grass behind it rustled, startling it into fleeing back into the water plants.

He Lingchuan had taken two large fish, each of which was about five kilograms, from the burrow spiders’ web-cage and was on his way back to roast them for dinner. When he passed by the Jiana Tribe’s Moon God Temple, he could not help but stop by.

Two consecutive dreams had involved ferry-crossing spawn, schemes between gods, and, most importantly, they were linked to the reality he was currently facing.

The Red General had implied that Wen Daolun had refused to request the Generous Pot’s aid, personally cutting off the only hope his son had of survival.

He Lingchuan could see at a glance how genuine Wen Daolun’s love for his son was—far deeper than the bond between himself and that cheap father of his.

And yet Wen Daolun had still done it.

So He Lingchuan thought about another hypothetical.

If Zhong Shengguang had agreed to Wen Daolun’s request and used the Generous Pot to save Wen Xing, what would have happened?

The most direct result would be that Wen Xing would live.

He’d then be someone who’s survived even after being struck by a deific technique.

He Lingchuan remembered that the Red General had said that only a deific technique could counter another deific technique.

And I guess a divine artifact?

That should be common knowledge among gods. Lady Mitian knew it, so surely the god behind Wen Daolun’s ambush knew it too.

Yet Zhong Shengguang had cut off the word “divine artifact,” unwilling to let outsiders hear.

Combining that with the timing that the time in the dreamscape he was in should correspond to the fifteenth year of the Panlong Calendar, or the third year after Zhong Shengguang’s rite of divine recompense, a thought rose in He Lingchuan’s mind like a bubble breaking the surface.

Is it possible the Generous Pot’s existence was still a secret at that time?

As someone who entered the dreamscape of Panlong City from the future, He Lingchuan naturally knew of the existence of the Generous Pot. However, the ordinary citizens, the states... and even the gods, perhaps, were still being kept in the dark.

Even Hu Min and Willow did not know the Three Corpses Worms existed. Enemy states like Baling and Xianyou still had not developed an effective method to counter the Three Corpses Worms’ mind-controlling ability.

Perhaps only Zhong Shengguang and a handful of men like Wen Daolun truly held the secret of the Generous Pot.

If Wen Xing were healed, the Ferry-Crossing Mother would immediately know the truth, which was that Panlong City possessed a divine artifact.

Were they worried that that would become a new root of disaster?

He Lingchuan stepped into the Moon God Temple and looked up at the towering statue.

How had Zhu Erniang described the Jiana Tribe again? A place where the strong emerged in abundance, where miracles had occurred, and where a treasure bestowed by the gods was guarded?

And then the Ferry-Crossing Mother had sent the ravenous devourer.

Now, He Lingchuan understood that for gods who could not descend into the human world, a ravenous devourer was a precious strategic resource. Once deployed, it could not be recovered.

So why would such an expensive, one-time killing weapon be “wasted” on a tiny tribe, even if that tribe had produced its share of strong fighters?

It could only be because the prize had been immense.

The ravenous devourer must have come for the treasure bestowed by the “Moon God.”

And if gods become certain that Panlong City also holds a treasure, how would they react?

1. Note that the original term literally translates to stubborn and stupid, but I prefer this translation. ☜