Chapter 52: "Clones, Lightning Hearts, and the Scientific Value of Friendship"
In which Shirogane watches Kyo get struck by planetary lightning, considers emotional trauma a useful motivational resource, and reminds his favorite student that thirty years is not actually a long time.
At the center of Sage Shirogane's private world stood a laboratory.
Calling it a laboratory was technically correct in the same way calling his solar-system-sized pocket dimension a room was technically correct.
The main facility covered an entire artificial continent.
Towers of white metal rose through carefully controlled clouds. Underground chambers descended hundreds of kilometers beneath the surface. Formation arrays larger than cities glowed beneath reinforced floors, carrying Ki, information, materials, and occasionally living specimens from one section of the complex to another.
There were libraries.
Medical facilities.
Cultivation chambers.
Genetic repositories.
Soul-research laboratories.
Clone-development centers.
Dimensional observation stations.
And several sealed sections whose doors had enough warning formations surrounding them that even Shirogane occasionally stopped and thought:
Ah.
I should probably remember what I put in there.
Three centuries of curiosity accumulated quickly.
Shirogane sat comfortably before a wall of floating screens.
He wore simple robes.
His long hair was loosely tied behind him.
A cup of tea rested beside his hand.
Anyone walking into the room without knowing who he was might have mistaken him for an ordinary scholar working late.
That happened surprisingly often.
Shirogane liked that.
People behaved differently when they knew they were speaking to a Sage.
Too respectfully.
Too carefully.
Too dishonestly.
It made conversation boring.
At the moment, however, he wasn't interested in conversation.
He was watching Kyo get struck by lightning.
One of the screens displayed the storm planet.
The lightning region covered an enormous fraction of the world's surface, with dark clouds stretching from horizon to horizon.
A bolt descended.
BOOOOOOM!
Kyo disappeared beneath white-blue light.
Numbers immediately flooded the adjacent screens.
Shirogane leaned forward slightly.
"Interesting."
The lightning striking Kyo wasn't remotely natural.
Ordinary lightning would no longer accomplish much.
Kyo's Black Lightning Heart had already adapted beyond that.
So Shirogane had increased the intensity.
Then increased it again.
And again.
The storms currently striking the region could vaporize ordinary Mortal Realm cultivators before they had time to understand that the weather disliked them.
And even that was only the beginning.
Farther toward the center of the lightning continent were storms Kyo wasn't allowed to approach yet.
The lightning there was dense enough to distort the surrounding Ki.
Several regions contained artificial thunder formations designed specifically to produce higher grades of elemental energy.
Kyo would reach them eventually.
Assuming his body didn't explode first.
Which Shirogane considered an undesirable result.
Not tragic.
Just inefficient.
He touched the screen.
A model of Kyo's body appeared.
Heart.
Blood vessels.
Muscles.
Bones.
Ki pathways.
Every significant biological system was mapped in layers.
At the center of it all pulsed the Black Lightning Heart.
Shirogane enlarged the image.
"Hm."
The organ was changing.
Not simply strengthening.
Changing.
Its internal structures were gradually developing additional conductive tissues. Blood vessels surrounding it were adapting to transport increasingly violent lightning Ki without rupturing.
Cells that previously tolerated lightning were beginning to actively absorb it.
More importantly—
the modifications Shirogane had introduced were becoming hereditary at the cellular level.
The bloodline was evolving.
Shirogane smiled.
That was always satisfying.
Not because Kyo was suffering.
That part was largely irrelevant.
The satisfying part was seeing a question become an answer.
Can the Black Lightning Heart be artificially pushed beyond its inherited limitations without destroying its natural progression?
Apparently:
Yes.
The better question now was:
How far?
Shirogane moved to another display.
Ki capacity: increasing.
Ki density: increasing.
Ki purity: increasing.
Physical strength: increasing.
Cellular resilience: increasing.
Regenerative response: increasing.
Elemental tolerance: increasing.
Everything was moving in the correct direction.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Correctly.
Shirogane took a sip of tea.
Then frowned at another set of numbers.
The Stormfiend Bloodline remained less satisfactory.
It was integrating into Kyo's Black Lightning Heart better than any previous candidate, but the transformation itself still had serious flaws.
Shirogane opened footage from Kyo's last activation.
Kyo's body expanded rapidly.
One meter seventy-eight.
One meter eighty-five.
One meter ninety-three.
Then—
two meters.
Muscle density increased sharply.
Dark demonic horns emerged from his forehead.
Black wings tore outward from his back, threaded with lightning.
A long armored tail formed behind him.
His hands became clawed.
Black electricity crawled over his transformed skin.
The overall effect was impressive.
Very impressive.
It was also inefficient.
Extremely inefficient.
Shirogane paused the recording.
"Too much energy being wasted on structural maintenance."
The transformation burned through Kyo's reserves at an absurd rate.
Five minutes.
That was approximately the maximum duration Kyo could maintain it before exhaustion became dangerous.
And by the time the transformation ended?
Most of his Ki was gone.
Unacceptable.
Strength amplification was excellent.
Speed improvement was excellent.
Durability was excellent.
Lightning output increased dramatically.
But so much energy was spent maintaining the altered body that Shirogane almost felt personally offended.
Almost.
There was another issue.
Aggression.
Kyo was not exactly famous for being emotionally delicate under normal circumstances.
The Stormfiend Bloodline made that substantially worse.
Increased hostility.
Reduced patience.
Heightened territorial instinct.
Reduced concern for personal injury.
Greater willingness to pursue a target after tactical withdrawal became the objectively superior choice.
Shirogane rested his cheek against one hand.
"That needs fixing."
An aggressive transformation was useful.
A transformation that made the subject stupid was not.
There was a difference.
If rage increased combat ability by twelve percent but reduced decision quality by thirty percent, then rage was not a benefit.
It was a defect.
Shirogane disliked defects.
He pulled up another model.
Kyo's current body.
Then beside it—
something considerably more complicated.
A humanoid figure stood within the simulation.
Long sword.
Dark clothing.
And eyes that appeared almost completely black except for thin silver fractures spreading outward through the irises.
The Voidscar Eyes.
Bloodline of the Void Swordsman.
Shirogane stared at the projection for several seconds.
Kyo wasn't ready.
Not remotely.
His body would reject the genetic material.
Best-case result?
Permanent damage.
Worst case?
Death before useful data could be gathered.
That would be annoying.
Shirogane had no intention of wasting Kyo.
He was much too promising.
Adorable specimen.
Determined.
Talented.
Emotionally motivated.
Genetically compatible with multiple enhancement pathways.
And, perhaps most importantly—
stubborn enough to continue when ordinary subjects would quit.
Shirogane liked stubborn subjects.
They produced better longitudinal data.
He enlarged the Voidscar Eyes.
Obviously, he couldn't simply acquire the actual eyes.
Shirogane was curious.
He was not suicidal.
The Void Swordsman was still alive.
And still very much a Sage.
A particularly unpleasant Sage to annoy.
If Shirogane walked up to him and said:
Hello. I would like your eyes for research.
The likely result would be Shirogane discovering several fascinating things about the Void immediately before parts of his body ceased occupying conventional space.
Educational.
But inconvenient.
So DNA samples would have to suffice.
For now.
Shirogane returned his attention to Kyo.
Another monster had entered the training zone.
Kyo disappeared in black lightning.
The creature lost an arm.
Then half its head.
Shirogane watched calmly.
"I wonder…"
His finger tapped against the table.
"How would you react if you knew what happened to Ren?"
That was interesting.
Shirogane compiled information on every serious experimental subject.
Genetics alone were insufficient.
Personality affected cultivation.
Motivation affected endurance.
Relationships affected decision-making.
Fear.
Love.
Hatred.
Pride.
Grief.
Obsession.
All useful variables.
Kyo's profile had a particularly obvious name repeated throughout it.
Ren Kisaragi.
Best friend.
Rival.
Emotional attachment.
Primary interpersonal conflict.
Highest-probability source of hesitation regarding Kyo's stated goal.
Also—
one of his greatest motivations for becoming stronger.
Shirogane smiled faintly.
Perhaps Ren's condition could become useful later.
Not now.
Kyo's will remained excellent.
But eventually?
Perhaps during one of the later procedures, when the pain became severe enough that ordinary determination began eroding—
a little encouragement might help.
Ren is becoming stronger.
Ren was nearly killed.
Ren will come after you.
Something along those lines.
Subjects with weak wills eventually became redundant.
Shirogane had learned that lesson a long time ago.
Because Kyo was not his first attempt.
Not even close.
Shirogane opened an archive.
Rows of names appeared.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Cultivators.
Some human.
Some not.
Different bloodlines.
Different cultivation methods.
Different personalities.
Different degrees of compatibility.
All attempts to reproduce even a fraction of what made the Void Swordsman exceptional.
Most had failed.
Some died.
Some survived.
Several even became powerful.
A handful reached Spirit Transformation Realm.
Shirogane had been briefly pleased with those.
Then he compared them to historical records of the Void Swordsman at the same stages.
The disappointment had been immediate.
Too weak.
Far too weak.
Even the successful subjects who developed rudimentary Void abilities were pathetic compared with the original.
A Spirit Transformation subject displaying less Void capability than the Void Swordsman had possessed during Foundation Establishment?
That wasn't replication.
That was imitation.
Shirogane wasn't interested in imitation.
He wanted the answer.
What made that bloodline work?
Was it the eyes alone?
Body structure?
Soul compatibility?
Personality?
Cultivation technique?
Innate spatial perception?
Some combination?
Something nobody had identified yet?
That was the interesting part.
Three decades into this particular research project—
and he still didn't know.
Wonderful.
"Master."
Shirogane glanced sideways.
A young-looking man stood several steps away.
His name was Seiran Mikage.
Silver-grey hair fell neatly around his face, and thin rectangular glasses rested across his nose. His robes were spotless despite the fact that he had spent the morning inside a biological laboratory containing three creatures that produced corrosive blood when frightened.
Seiran was Shirogane's best student.
Not strongest.
Best.
There was a difference.
He had many students.
Some were talented cultivators.
Others were Formation Masters.
Physicians.
Soul researchers.
Dimensional scholars.
Biologists.
Weapon researchers.
Seiran?
Seiran could follow almost everything.
Genetics.
Medicine.
Cultivation theory.
Soul structure.
Formations.
Dimensional mathematics.
He was one of the very few people Shirogane could discuss a complicated idea with without having to stop every few minutes and explain foundational principles.
Intellectually—
Seiran was almost on his level.
Almost.
Which made him considerably more enjoyable company than most people.
His cultivation had already reached the peak of Spirit Transformation Realm.
Not bad.
More importantly, he had been studying under Shirogane for decades without becoming boring.
That was rarer.
Seiran looked toward the screens.
"The clones are developing well."
"Yes."
"Much better than the previous generation."
"Yes."
Seiran adjusted his glasses.
"Then do we actually need to continue the implantation experiments?"
Shirogane looked at him.
Seiran gestured toward another section of the laboratory.
Within enormous growth chambers floated several developing bodies.
Some were clones of the Void Swordsman.
Others—
the Azure Knight.
Not exact copies.
Never exact.
That was the problem.
Shirogane had created clones before.
Many times.
The genetics could be reproduced.
Appearance could be reproduced.
Even bloodline characteristics could sometimes be reproduced.
But the result was always weaker.
He had tried accelerated-grown adults.
Inferior.
He had tried starting them as children.
Better.
Then infants.
Better again.
He had controlled nutrition.
Environment.
Training.
Ki exposure.
Education.
Emotional development.
Still wrong.
Still weaker.
Still missing something.
Seiran sighed.
"This experiment has been running for thirty years."
Shirogane smiled.
"And?"
Seiran stared at him.
"Thirty years, Master."
"Yes."
"That is a long time."
Shirogane tilted his head.
"No, it isn't."
Seiran's expression tightened.
Shirogane almost laughed.
There it was.
The difference between them.
Seiran loved answers.
Shirogane loved finding answers.
Those were not the same thing.
Seiran became irritated when a problem resisted him for years.
Shirogane became more interested.
Ten years without an answer?
Interesting.
Thirty?
Very interesting.
A century?
Now that was a problem worth waking up for.
Shirogane rested one hand against his cheek.
"If this frustrates you, go focus on your own projects."
Seiran blinked.
"You are old enough to leave your master now."
Shirogane smiled pleasantly.
"Go. Explore the universe. Start your own laboratory. Ignore me completely."
Seiran stared at him in horror.
Shirogane's smile widened.
Adorable.
He knew perfectly well Seiran was obsessed with him.
Not romantically.
Not exactly worship either.
Something between intellectual dependence, loyalty, admiration, and the conviction that anywhere Shirogane wasn't conducting research was automatically less interesting.
Shirogane understood it.
Once, long ago—
he had been like that with his own master.
His smile faded slightly.
He could still remember those days.
Before he understood himself.
Before the experiments.
Before he realized that many moral reactions other people experienced automatically were things he had learned to reproduce because that was what people were supposed to do.
His master had loved him.
Truly.
Even after discovering what Shirogane had become.
Even after understanding what kind of experiments he had conducted.
Even on the day everything finally collapsed.
His master could have killed him.
Perhaps should have.
Instead—
he let Shirogane leave.
That kindness had remained inconveniently memorable for three centuries.
It was one of the reasons the Veiled Moon Sect still existed.
Shirogane could have destroyed it.
Several times.
He hadn't.
His master had given him his life.
Allowing the Sect to continue was Shirogane's repayment.
Fair was fair.
Seiran cleared his throat.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"I can't think of another project worth abandoning this one for."
Shirogane chuckled.
"Then focus on the task I already gave you."
Seiran sighed.
"Yes, Master."
Shirogane turned toward another screen.
This one showed something entirely different.
Two sleeping boys.
Two worlds.
One shared dream.
Ren.
Kaito.
Shirogane's eyes brightened.
Now this—
this was interesting.
The Azure Knight had forbidden cultivators from directly entering Earth's universe.
An unusual decision.
Very unusual.
Higher-level universes did not normally treat weaker universes kindly.
They occupied them.
Controlled them.
Extracted resources.
Established subordinate sects.
Sometimes enslaved populations.
Civilizations liked inventing complicated political language for it.
Shirogane had read all of it.
The meaning remained the same.
We are stronger, therefore this belongs to us.
Earth should have become another subordinate world long ago.
Instead, the Azure Knight had placed it under his personal protection.
Why?
Love.
Apparently.
Shirogane found that fascinating.
He didn't know what romantic love felt like.
Not personally.
He understood the concept.
Extensively.
He had researched it.
Observed it.
Studied neurological responses.
Soul resonance.
Attachment behavior.
Cultivation deviations caused by grief and affection.
He had even experienced fragments indirectly through memory research and soul-record extraction.
Enough to understand the shape of the emotion.
Not enough to actually possess it.
Apparently it was powerful enough to convince one of the strongest cultivators alive to stand between an entire higher universe and one relatively weak world because a woman he loved had come from there.
People were strange.
Shirogane liked people.
They produced excellent questions.
Unfortunately, the Azure Knight's rules made direct experimentation difficult.
Shirogane couldn't simply walk into Earth.
Well.
Technically he could try.
He valued continued existence too much.
So he had used an indirect method.
A soul exchange.
Two compatible individuals.
Two universes.
One dimensional bridge established only long enough for the transfer.
Elegant.
Risky.
Successful.
And now?
He had an entirely new research project.
Shirogane expanded the data.
"Cross-dimensional soul transference remains stable."
Seiran stepped closer.
"You already expected that."
"I expected it."
Shirogane smiled.
"I hadn't observed it."
There was a difference.
The results had already confirmed several theories.
Souls gradually influenced the body they inhabited.
Known.
But watching a cultivator's soul placed inside a civilian body while a civilian soul inhabited a highly developed cultivator body?
New variables.
Useful variables.
Then there were soul-linked entities.
Shirogane had previously succeeded in separating certain constructs and beings attached directly to souls and reattaching them elsewhere.
Those experiments alone had occupied several years.
This situation gave him something stranger.
Ballom.
Vhalor.
Fivefold Ascension.
Different kinds of soul connection.
Different rules.
Different responses to displacement.
Shirogane smiled.
"So many possibilities."
Seiran knew that tone.
His shoulders sank slightly.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"Please don't start another twelve projects before finishing these."
Shirogane looked genuinely puzzled.
"Why not?"
"We already have forty-three active major projects."
"Forty-four."
Seiran closed his eyes.
"Of course."
Shirogane returned to the screen.
The Soul Armaments interested him immensely.
Constructs that could bind to a human soul.
Develop.
Transform.
Carry consciousness.
Interact with physical and spiritual systems.
Possibly evolve according to the bearer.
Earth had produced an entire branch of supernatural development the cultivation world hadn't properly studied.
That was unacceptable.
Not morally.
Academically.
There was knowledge sitting there.
Uncollected.
Shirogane hated uncollected knowledge.
Seiran looked toward the dream-world observation.
"Why continue watching them?"
Shirogane gave him a mildly surprised look.
"Because we don't know everything yet."
"That answer applies to the entire universe."
"Yes."
"That wasn't encouragement."
Shirogane laughed softly.
Then he pointed toward the display.
"Focus on the task."
Seiran sighed again.
"There is so much to learn from Earth."
That much even he couldn't dispute.
Earth was classified as a lower-level universe.
That classification was misleading.
Its ordinary population was weak.
Its public civilization barely understood the supernatural forces existing around it.
But hidden beneath that surface?
Martial artists.
Magicians.
Demons.
Ghosts.
Soul Armaments.
Strange species.
Different energy systems.
And beings whose power reached Sage-level equivalence.
People equal to Shirogane existed there.
That alone made the world worth studying.
Shirogane smiled at the screen.
Ren shifted slightly in his sleep.
Kaito did the same in another universe.
Their shared dream began forming between them.
Behind another screen, Kyo absorbed another bolt of artificial lightning.
In the clone chambers, artificial bodies continued growing.
In sealed laboratories, experiments accumulated data.
Everywhere Shirogane looked—
questions.
Beautiful questions.
Three centuries alive, and the universe was still refusing to become boring.
Shirogane picked up his tea.
"Seiran."
"Yes, Master?"
"We are going to be very busy."
Seiran stared at the dozens of screens already surrounding them.
"…We already are."
Shirogane took a sip.
"That is why life is enjoyable."