Avatar Art

Its true value lay in those four words: "obedient to one's will." This was the crucial difference between common, mass-market skills anyone could exchange for and an exclusive art. A mirror image was merely a projection of one's combat awareness and possessed only combat instincts. An avatar, however, was entirely different. He Lingchuan could speak through it, see through it, and direct his divided attention to make it do whatever he wished. Far beyond merely causing a ruckus or scaling roofs, it could even thread a needle and embroider. If one didn't mind the brief duration, it could even engage in vigorous exercise. Extrapolating from that, what this avatar could do held infinite possibilities; it all came down to how he chose to use it. This was a true external incarnation. Naturally, Old Man Wang had also recognized the potential of this divine ability, which was why he had stubbornly stuffed money into the beast's maw, trying to fill it to the brim. Unfortunately, doing so far exceeded his means. So, was it possible for He Lingchuan to satisfy the gold-devouring beast's appetite? Old Man Wang's personal best had been feeding it seven hundred taels of silver alongside two large Eastern pearls, yet it had failed. He Lingchuan took stock of his personal wealth and found it was not even a third of that amount—nowhere close. Still, although the creature was called a "gold-devouring beast," was feeding it gold, silver, and jewels alone truly enough? What had Old Man Wang realized after exhausting all his efforts? Treasures of the mortal world simply could not satisfy it. Even a gold-devouring beast had high standards when it came to the quality of its food. And supreme treasures never won by sheer quantity. He Lingchuan laid all his possessions out across the table, inspecting them one by one. Candy snail shells were coveted only by humans; the beast certainly wouldn't eat those. In this dreamscape, he did not possess even a single profound crystal. Otherwise, it would have been worth a try. Then there were various weapons, a bit of gold and silver... Counting it all up, he had barely accumulated any assets in the dream! The only thing that could qualify as a supreme treasure was probably the Fusheng Saber. The moment his hand brushed the hilt, the prized blade vibrated twice in fury, as if snapping: *Don't you dare!* He didn't dare. Besides, if he threw the Fusheng Saber in, who knew which one would end up devouring the other? Yet this Avatar Art was extraordinarily useful—perhaps a major asset for dealing with his current plight in reality. He Lingchuan's gaze roved back and forth before suddenly landing on two unassuming little objects: Two silkworm cocoons. Strictly speaking, these were the brain cores of two ferry whelps. One could construct a flesh-and-blood fortress lasting one or two double-hours, while the other was already fractured, its function as yet unknown. The ferry mother was a deity, so its offspring could at least bear the title of "divine scions," couldn't they? In that case, these two brain cores could not be ordinary mortal objects—or to borrow Old Man Wang's phrasing, they were "not treasures of the mortal realm." He remembered General Red mentioning that a faint trace of divine power still lingered within them. Well then, give it a shot? He Lingchuan picked up the fractured ferry brain core. It had no other use anyway. First, he prepared brush and paper and ground fresh ink on the inkstone. Then, he tossed the brain core straight into the wide-open maw depicted on the scroll. Sure enough, the brain core vanished in an instant, as though swallowed into a bottomless pit. Two breaths passed. Five breaths passed. Nothing changed whatsoever. It was even less responsive than tossing in a single copper coin. Indigestion? He Lingchuan could not help sighing, finally empathizing with Old Man Wang's desperate longing. That blasted gold-devouring beast. Damned swindler. One failure was enough; he had no intention of wasting the other brain core. Continuing to gamble after a loss in hopes of breaking even was the mindset of a hopeless gambler. Yet just as He Lingchuan was about to put the scroll away, the beast-hide parchment suddenly flared with a crimson glow. Immediately afterward, the beast head with its perpetually gaping maw actually shut its mouth! The decrepit beast-hide parchment began restoring itself at a rate visible to the naked eye. Wormholes, tears, and stains vanished, missing sections rapidly filled in, and the originally faded immortal language shifted back into crisp, vibrant vermilion script! In merely ten breaths of time, the beast-hide parchment before He Lingchuan was as clean and whole as the day it was first written! Clearly, the gold-devouring beast was immensely satisfied with his offering—and completely full. Items born of divinity truly were extraordinary. *So has eternal greed triumphed over eternal time?* He Lingchuan marveled inwardly, already setting his brush flying across the paper. He had to transcribe the secret art before the beast-hide parchment fully digested the brain core. Fortunately, the parchment seemed exceptionally well-fed this time, maintaining its pristine state for half a double-hour. That was plenty of time for He Lingchuan to finish copying and double-check it several times over. Half a double-hour later, the beast-hide parchment slowly reverted to its original state. Once again, a tattered scrap of hide. He Lingchuan reviewed the formula he had transcribed several times, exhaling a long breath as wild joy surged in his chest. Beyond the fact that the avatar could act on command, the technique mentioned another crucial feature: It could equip gear. Thinking carefully on that, the possibilities seemed boundless. He left the quiet room at once. Leveraging his status as the shop's landlord, he wrangled a steep discount from the plump proprietor to assemble an outfit for his avatar, including a suit of light armor made from demon python hide, swift boots, a set of throwing daggers, and a pair of refined iron sabers! Indeed, any martial techniques He Lingchuan knew, his avatar knew as well. He genuinely looked forward to the spectacle of fighting alongside his avatar, chopping down enemies in tandem. Even with the bargain-basement discount, anything touching upon magic artifacts was outrageously expensive. With a single wave of his hand, nearly half his net worth was gone. *Alas, neither money nor military merits hold their ground; loosen your grip, and they're gone.* Even so, the wily shopkeeper still felt he had been shortchanged and eagerly pitched a few bottles of pills and a set of talismans to him. Considering that there was no medicine ape in the dream city to brew remedies for him and A'luo was swamped with duties, He Lingchuan bought a small supply for emergencies. The proprietor managed to salvage a bit of his pride. Afterward, he could finally head to the Pengcheng Office. With the Avatar Art in hand, the military merits he had originally budgeted for the Mirror Image Art could now be spared. After prolonged consideration, He Lingchuan exchanged for another divine ability instead, known as "Stubborn Stone." This minor divine ability cost very few military merits, but it was remarkably practical. Its special effect allowed the user to enter a petrified state, sealing all acupoints, cutting off all aura, stopping the heartbeat, and even shielding one's divine sense. So long as it was paired with superficial camouflage, anyone scanning with divine sense would likely mistake the user for an ordinary log or stone rather than a human. Naturally, the deeper one's cultivation, the longer Stubborn Stone would last. Afterward, He Lingchuan hurried back to his residence. For the next thirty to forty double-hours, completely oblivious to the outside world, he devoted himself entirely to studying the two newly acquired arts. His real self was currently in grave danger. Every bit of strength gained meant an extra layer of protection, an extra glimmer of hope to survive. In the end, He Lingchuan summarized his progress: as a novice, his Stubborn Stone could last for nearly two quarters of an hour. As for the Avatar Art, he could currently summon only a single avatar. Its physique, strength, and speed were identical to his own, lasting about twelve breaths. If it sustained a lethal blow, it would disperse prematurely. This avatar could move up to a hundred and twenty feet from his true body, could wear equipment, and acted entirely according to his will—and if He Lingchuan was occupied beyond measure, it would attack enemies automatically. *Seems pretty smart, doesn't it?* The only catch was that it could only be summoned once every double-hour. Furthermore, given He Lingchuan's current cultivation level, each summoning drained more than half his true power. Deciding when to use this trump card would require precise calculation. On top of that, throughout its active duration, the avatar continuously consumed true power, which was drawn directly from his own reserves. In other words, if He Lingchuan summoned the avatar, his true power was halved right off the bat, and he would subsequently have to bear the consumption of both his own fighting and the avatar's. That meant at least double the attrition. He Lingchuan counted on his fingers for quite a while. Adding such a major technique had stretched his true power thin. It seemed he would have to work diligently on raising his cultivation in the future to enhance both the quality and quantity of his true power. A purple swamphen was foraging among the ruins of the Jiana tribe when a sudden rustling in the grass behind it sent the bird fleeing back into the reeds. He Lingchuan pulled two ten-jin fish from the burrow spiders' net-traps. Just as he was heading back to roast them for dinner, passing by the Jiana tribe's Moon Goddess Temple, he could not help pausing in his tracks. Two consecutive dreams had involved ferry whelps and the plans of the gods. Most importantly, they tied directly into his current reality. General Red had hinted that Wen Daolun had abandoned his plea to use the Dafang Pot, personally severing the only hope his son had of surviving. He Lingchuan could see at a glance that Wen Daolun's genuine love for his son far surpassed that of his own nominal old man. Yet Wen Daolun had still done it. Then it did no harm to reason backward: if Zhong Shengguang had granted Wen Daolun's request and used the Dafang Pot to save Wen Xing's life, what would have happened? The most direct outcome was that Wen Xing would have lived. A victim of divine arts, fully restored. He recalled General Red saying, "Right now, only divine arts can counter divine arts," or the deployment of a divine artifact. This had to be common knowledge among heavenly deities. Mitian knew it, and the deity who had ambushed Wen Daolun surely knew it as well. Yet the words "divine artifact" had been cut short by Zhong Shengguang, who had no wish for outsiders to learn of it. Factoring in that the era was Year 15 of the Panlong City calendar—merely the third year after Zhong Shengguang's deity blood sacrifice—a thought spontaneously surfaced in He Lingchuan's mind: *Could it be that the Dafang Pot's existence was still a secret at that time?* Entering the dream as a latecomer, he took it for granted that Panlong City possessed the Dafang Pot. Yet back then, had commoners, neighboring nations, and even the deities been kept entirely in the dark? Even Hu Min, Willow, and the others knew nothing of the Three Corpse Worms, and hostile nations like Baling and Xianyou had yet to devise effective methods to counter the worms' god-manipulating powers. Perhaps only a select few, such as Zhong Shengguang and Wen Daolun, held the secret of the Dafang Pot. If so, the moment Wen Xing was healed, the ferry mother would instantly learn that Panlong City possessed a divine artifact. Would that have sown the seeds of an even greater catastrophe? He Lingchuan walked into the Moon Goddess Temple and gazed up at the towering statue of the deity. How had Zhu Erniang described the Jiana tribe before? That they produced many formidable figures, had witnessed divine miracles, and guarded a treasure bestowed by their deity? And subsequent to that, the ferry mother had sent tormentors. He Lingchuan now understood that for deities incapable of descending personally to the mortal realm, tormentors were precious strategic assets that could not be recovered once deployed. Why dispatch such a costly, single-use weapon of slaughter against a tiny, insignificant tribe, even if it had produced several powerful warriors? Because the prize sought was immense— The tormentor had come for the treasure bestowed by the "Moon Goddess." If the deities confirmed that Panlong City possessed such a treasure as well, how would they move against it?