The two clones pass through the inner secret chambers of the palace, their footsteps echoing softly as ancient formations hum within the walls.
Layer after layer of restriction gives way before them, seals recognising authority not of blood, but of will and permission long embedded into the palace itself.
They reach the final corridor.
The second clone exhales slowly.
He understands now.
They share the same memories, the same realisation forming at the same moment, and the path the first clone chose is no longer mysterious.
The final door opens.
Beyond it, a circular staircase spirals downward, carved directly into bedrock older than the palace itself.
As they descend, the second clone speaks.
"You want to use the spiritual node to build the spiritual pool."
The first clone does not deny it.
Spiritual nodes are fractures in the world, invisible conduits that connect the surface to the origin of the land itself, endlessly spewing spiritual energy into the surroundings.
Most nodes are long claimed.
Sects, clans, and kingdoms build cities and mines upon them, harvesting the energy through formations and resources that grow naturally around the flow.
Only a few remain empty.
And one of those lies beneath the Tang Kingdom's royal palace.
They reach the underground cavern.
The second clone raises his hand.
A small fireball ignites in his palm, its light washing across the cavern walls.
The sight is breathtaking even to them.
Spiritual crystals hang like stalactites from the ceiling, translucent and softly glowing, veins of condensed energy running through them like frozen lightning.
From the longest formations, drops of liquid spiritual essence fall one by one, landing in stone pots placed carefully below, each drop releasing a faint chime as it falls.
The air is thick with power.
Dense.
Alive.
They do not pause to collect the liquid.
They walk past it all.
Toward the centre.
There, nothing can be seen with mortal eyes.
No hole.
No crack.
No light.
Yet within their spiritual senses, the node is unmistakable.
A roaring convergence point.
An invisible well from which spiritual energy pours endlessly into the world.
The second clone narrows his eyes.
"We need to dredge and widen the node first."
The first clone nods.
"The flow is strong, but unfocused," he says.
"If we leave it like this, compression will be unstable."
"We can use Golden Iron Tree wood," the first clone continues.
"Even with limited Crystal Metal, it can help block and redirect the flow."
The second clone considers it.
Golden Iron Tree wood is rare, flexible, and uniquely resistant to spiritual corrosion, making it ideal for structural reinforcement where pure crystal is insufficient.
"I have another idea," the second clone says slowly.
The first clone looks at him.
"What if we embed an array directly onto the node," the second clone says, "so that the energy released isn't spiritual energy—but magic energy."
The cavern seems to grow quieter.
The implication settles.
If successful, the node would no longer primarily nourish cultivators.
It would nourish wizards.
"A conversion array," the second clone continues.
"Stable, passive, and permanent."
The first clone's eyes shine.
"Good idea," he says.
"If this succeeds, we can change all the nodes in the Tang Kingdom."
He looks toward the invisible torrent of energy.
"We can make the entire Tang Kingdom a blessed land for wizard cultivation."
A calm voice cuts through the cavern.
"You think the royal palace and the Tang Kingdom are your personal property."
The two clones turn.
Li Xueyao stands at the edge of the cavern, her expression controlled but cold, Meilin a step behind her.
The glow of the fireball reflects faintly in her eyes.
The first clone inclines his head slightly.
"You two are here."
The second clone studies her calmly.
"Are you going to stop us?"
Li Xueyao steps forward, her boots echoing against stone.
"If I say stop," she asks, "are you going to listen?"
The first and second clones answer together, voices firm and identical.
"No."
Li Xueyao snorts softly.
"The kingdom's turmoil has only just been subdued," she says.
"I don't want any more trouble."
The first clone meets her gaze.
"Did your army start training with guns and bombs?" he asks.
"Are you afraid of rebellion now?"
Li Xueyao's expression tightens.
"With my presence here," the first clone continues, "they will not dare use high-level cultivators."
"They will only deploy mortal armies, apprentice-stage wizards, and equal-stage warriors."
"That is control," he says.
"Not chaos."
Li Xueyao does not respond.
She turns and walks away.
At the base of the staircase, she stops without turning around.
"Do you have anything to say to me?" she asks.
The first clone answers evenly.
"No."
The second clone blinks.
"What?"
Li Xueyao exhales sharply.
"Something along the lines of 'sorry for taking a new lover,' perhaps."
The words hang in the air.
The first clone's expression shifts.
Realisation dawns.
"You are upset because of that," he says.
The second clone frowns.
"Aren't we in a contract marriage?" he asks.
Li Xueyao turns halfway, eyes sharp.
"You still consider our marriage a contract marriage."
The first clone tilts his head slightly.
"Are you jealous?"
The second clone adds, tone of calm and matter-of-fact.
"Don't worry, I will not break the contract with you."
Li Xueyao closes her eyes for a brief moment.
She shakes her head.
Without another word, she walks up the stairs.
Meilin follows her, glancing back once before disappearing from sight.
Silence returns to the cavern.
The two clones stand still for several breaths.
Then, without discussion, they both activate their transmission arrays.
The memories of the day—
the node,
the plan,
the confrontation,
the words spoken and unspoken—
stream upward to the transmission ball in the sky.
Far away, the main body receives everything.
For the clones, refining a spiritual pool like this would take months.
Perhaps years.
But for the main body, armed with full comprehension and superior processing, it will take a week.
The decision is immediate.
The clones do not linger.
They leave the cavern untouched.
The node continues to spew energy, unaware of the future reshaping awaiting it.
They ascend the stairs, reseal the chamber, and exit the palace without drawing attention.
Night settles over the capital.
They return to the Wizard Academy.
The first clone enters a sealed cultivation chamber and sits down, spiritual energy folding inward as he begins refining his realm.
The second clone returns to the laboratory, reactivating arrays, reopening data constructs, and resuming work as if nothing had changed.
Yet everything has.
Because beneath the Tang Kingdom, a world-level resource has been marked.
And above it, a wizard has decided to rewrite how power flows through an entire land.
The next morning, the second clone steps out of the Wizard Academy castle as the first light of dawn spreads across the capital.
The sun rises slowly, casting long shadows across stone paths still warm from last night's residual formations.
Workers begin to arrive one after another, carrying tools, scrolls, and bundles of materials.
When they see him, they bow instinctively—some deeply, some hurriedly—before resuming their tasks.
The Wizard Academy is not yet complete.
In his design, the academy will take the form of a vast hexagonal complex, composed of twelve castle-like towers arranged in perfect symmetry.
Each tower serves a different discipline—arrays, alchemy, rune theory, material refinement, and elemental studies.
So far, ten castles stand finished.
Two remain under construction.
The outer wall that will encircle the entire academy has yet to rise.
He walks past scaffolding and half-etched formation circles, listening to the quiet rhythm of chisels and mana tools biting into stone.
Leaving the academy grounds, he follows the riverbank.
The water reflects the morning light, slow and clear, flowing past fields that stretch toward the horizon.
Farmlands come into view.
Rows of crops sway gently in the breeze—plants he personally transformed, their growth accelerated and stabilised through carefully embedded rune patterns.
Behind the fields, a village stands.
Newly built.
Orderly.
Alive.
The villagers are settlers from Chen Village, relocated and given land, protection, and work.
The second clone walks through the fields, stopping at each section.
He checks leaf density.
Root integrity.
Spiritual absorption rates.
Satisfied, he moves on.
One by one, villagers begin to wake.
Doors open.
Footsteps gather.
People emerge carrying tools and baskets.
When they see him, some bow, others greet him respectfully, and a few approach to speak—asking about irrigation timing, soil adjustments, and the strange but healthy growth of their crops.
He answers each question patiently.
Briefly.
Clearly.
Then he leaves the fields behind and heads back toward the academy.
Students begin arriving as he walks through the corridors.
Young men and women in academic robes stop to bow or greet him, eyes filled with respect and restrained awe.
He nods back, acknowledging them without breaking stride.
Inside the laboratory, he activates the data storage machine.
Streams of information begin flowing in—observations from the fields, growth metrics, energy fluctuations, long-term projections.
He inputs everything carefully.
Elsewhere in the academy, the first clone ends his cultivation session.
His eyes open, calm and sharp.
He rises and enters a lecture hall where five students already wait.
Without ceremony, he begins teaching the advanced rune class.
END.