The Talisman-Eating Clone

Slap.

Nain’s palm struck the cheek of her Geumhae Changcheon clone with a light, testing tap. The soft, clingy give of the skin was identical to her own. Even that gentle shove was enough to set the clone’s upper body swaying.

“Mm.”

Her gaze drifted, helplessly, to the bare chest that shook without the slightest pretense of restraint. The clone was completely naked.

My shoulders always ached, sure—but was it really this much?

Seeing her own body from the outside was somehow more than she had imagined. Thankfully, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nothing like lust or any thought that went further than that stirred in her. She had come dangerously close to a disaster.

Was it the hormones, changed along with her sex?

So… what am I supposed to do with her, exactly?

Slap. Slap.

The oddly springy feel was pleasant. If the clone had no real use, she would make a perfect training dummy—or a body pillow. Something to replace a cushion in the middle of the night.

Well. That probably isn’t how this works. But still.

She set about finding clothes. The robe she wore now was an expensive brand with self-cleaning and automatic laundry functions, and she only owned the one. So she dressed the clone in things she used to wear.

An oversized boxy T-shirt and a pair of short pants.

Once Geumhae was dressed, Nain looked down at her with genuine seriousness. At last she could study the girl properly.

She looked exactly like Nain—except that her right eye glowed gold. Nain sat down beside the clone and pulled her into a hug. As expected, the body was soft and sized just right for holding. The warmth against her made a quiet smile slip onto her face.

“First things first—should I give you a name?”

She couldn’t keep calling her “the clone” forever. She could, technically, but Nain had always been the sort who liked naming things. She had even given a name—Po-woo—to a mere magical tool that was only a scroll.

“Hmm… your name is…”

Thinking it over, she rubbed her cheek against the clone’s. It should have been an uncomfortable, imposing thing to do, yet the clone did not react at all. There was no intelligence in her face. Her rank was still too low for a mind to have formed. That earlier nod of the head must have been Nain’s imagination.

Geumhae Changcheon… clone… and my name is Eun Nain…

She kneaded the soft cheek between her fingers.

“Geum Nain…?”

Even as she said it, she shook her head hard. Just swapping out her own surname—that was a crime. And if the clone shared her name, there was always the risk of backlash later on. It was a constitution, not a divine art, so maybe nothing would happen—but “maybe” was always the more dangerous word.

Being betrayed by a clone that was essentially her own limb would be a shock she did not want to absorb. Nain decided to keep it simple.

“From now on, your name is Geumhae!”

Precious as silk, a companion to walk with for life. She had borrowed the sound from her constitution’s name, but the meaning was entirely different. Originally it meant Golden Sea; now it carried the inner sense of a partner. Same on the outside, different within.

Having named the clone—having named Geumhae—Nain began her investigation in earnest.

First: commands.

“Geumhae, stand up!”

…

A cold silence settled over the room. Naturally, nothing happened. Flushing with embarrassment, Nain hung her head and drew a thick X through the first item on her mental checklist.

1. Commands (X).

Next: spiritual energy injection.

Through the superior sensitivity of her Four Spirit Roots, Geumhae’s body currently felt no different from an ordinary mortal’s. Soft as pudding, so frail a puff of wind might carry her off. If Nain moved with even a little real force, the body would simply break.

She laid her palm against Geumhae’s back and poured in Five Elements Talisman Dao spiritual energy.

Fortunately, the meridian structure is exactly the same as mine.

Obvious enough, for a clone. She boldly dumped three percent of her currently available spiritual energy into Geumhae.

The energy flooded in with imposing force—starting at the solar plexus, sweeping through the heart and the five viscera and six bowels, racing out to the extremities, then turning toward the dantian. Into the hollow, empty center of that dantian she planted the Five Elements Talisman Dao spiritual energy.

Fwaaat!

Enough energy to raise ten ordinary cultivators through the Severing Longevity Stage. The parched dantian swallowed it greedily.

And… nothing changed.

“Huh?”

Nain’s bewildered voice rang through the quiet room. She scoured Geumhae’s body again with her Four Spirit Roots’ sensitivity, but that vast quantity of spiritual energy seemed to have evaporated without a trace. The dantian was still empty.

Stunned, Nain kneaded Geumhae’s cheek once more. Still soft. Still plush. No hardening of the skin, no surge of presence—none of the signs of someone becoming a cultivator.

“That was ten Severing Longevity Stage cultivators’ worth of energy. And nothing?”

Stubbornness flared. She dumped every last drop of her remaining spiritual energy into the clone. Compressed again and again, the total volume easily exceeded five times what a cultivator of the same rank would normally possess. A sea of spiritual energy poured into Geumhae’s dantian.

“….”

Of course, nothing happened.

With tears in her eyes, Nain drew an X through item two on the checklist. Her spiritual energy had already fully recovered in the meantime—her recovery resilience was absurd even by her standards.

2. Spiritual energy injection (X).

Last resort.

I wanted to rest a little after breaking through three stages in a row…

So even rest was forbidden to a cultivator? Lamenting her heaven-defying fate, she seized the Golden Slip she had purchased the day before.

A high-grade method containing, true to its name, a hundred talisman-drawing techniques. Compared to the Introductory Talisman Art she had been using so diligently, it was a manual of an entirely different caliber. Nothing of the lowest grade was even recorded; the low-grade basic Five Elements talismans were skipped entirely.

It covered only mid-grade and high-grade talismans—drawing arts suited to the whole of the Qi Refinement Stage. Extreme-grade was the product of heaven-sent talent and luck, a realm Nain could not yet approach.

You’d probably need Heavenly Script rank or Immortal House rank before you could stamp out extreme-grade pieces.

With that idle thought, she pressed the Golden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Slip containing the Hundred Talismans Method to her forehead. Without a neural interface, physical contact was the only way to read the information. She held the cold metal against her skin for who knew how long, until the flood of data left her slightly dizzy and she staggered.

“…Po-woo.”

Po-woo~?

By now they had the rhythm down. Po-woo, who had been lying on the sofa as if dead, flew over at once.

Confirming that the method had been learned safely, Nain released Po-woo. The Five Elements Spirit Ascension Enlightenment Method kept gaining proficiency even without active practice. She immediately powered on her terminal and ordered talisman materials.

True to its name, the Hundred Talismans Method recorded nearly a hundred drawing methods—some ninety for mid-grade talismans, and a little over ten for high-grade. One among them even held the slim chance, with luck, of reaching the extreme-grade realm.

Nain felt a pang of pity for the nameless author.

“How little talent do you have to have…”

She was different from ordinary people. She had the Talisman Dao Sacred Body, a Two Spirit Roots–class constitution. Someday she ought to send the author of the Hundred Talismans Method at least one extreme-grade talisman. He would surely weep with gratitude.

“Heh.”

Still basking in that happy fantasy, she tore open the package that had just arrived via spatial delivery. The talismans she had decided to draw this time were seven kinds of mid-grade talismans.

At some point, Geumhae Changcheon’s proficiency had already risen by three.

In my whole life, the only talismans I’ve ever drawn were the three lowest-grade ones from the Introductory Talisman Art.

Nain gave the soft, springy clone one more pat, then looked at the Geumhae Changcheon proficiency that still had not even reached Grade 1.

A hundred sheets of mid-grade talisman paper cost ten thousand credits; the ink another ten thousand. Add ten low-grade spirit stones and she had spent a hundred thousand credits in total. She left Geumhae on the sofa for now and went into the cultivation chamber.

Up through first-rank mid-grade talismans, no particularly special materials were required. The materials simply cost more—paper and ink were still all you needed. Long live modern technology.

She slotted the spirit stones into the spirit-gathering formation, knelt neatly before the paper, and drew a long breath. She reviewed the drawing method that had risen in her mind, then took up the brush with practiced ease and swept her arm out without hesitation.

Mid-grade talisman technique was, as expected, a world ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠apart from the lowest grade. The difficulty gap was hundreds of times over, at the least. Even so, Nain felt as if a low-grade result might still emerge. A long arc of ink-dark line split the paper. Hundreds of long strokes and tens of thousands of short ones followed, all completed in a mere ten breaths. A whole world settled into that small sheet of paper.

The name of that world was Salt Protection.

Fwaaat!

Bursting with a deep blue light, the Salt Protection Talisman rose into the air. A mid-grade talisman had been born from a beginner’s hand in barely a minute. If other talisman masters saw it, they would flounder as one into heart demons from the sheer gulf in talent.

“Hmm.”

Nain flicked the floating Salt Protection Talisman aside with a listless hand. One minute was already the expected result. With her Four Spirit Roots and Talisman Dao Sacred Body both at Grade 2, she felt she could challenge the next realm entirely. She only thought it, though; she did not force the issue now. There was another task right in front of her. She took up the brush again and drew the next talisman.

Fwaat. Fwaat. Fwaaat!

Blue radiance lit the cultivation chamber by the minute. Seven kinds of talismans settled to the floor, each carrying a different air of quality.

“Huh?”

Seated before the talismans, Nain tilted her head.

The proficiency number did not budge. No matter how long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she waited, it showed no sign of changing. She had drawn the talismans—so why hadn’t the proficiency risen? Had her guess been wrong after all? Po-woo had clearly recorded it as depending on the type of talisman. An X went through the last item on the checklist.

3. Drawing talismans… (X)

Her face crumpled. She scooped up the talismans she had drawn and was just about to leave the cultivation chamber when—

Wuuuung…

The glowing talismans vibrated faintly.

“…?”

At first she thought she was imagining it. Then she realized it was real—because the talismans shot off toward the living room of their own accord!

“No!”

Horrified, Nain bolted from the cultivation chamber. A mid-grade talisman’s power, if triggered wrong, was more than enough to grind a house like hers into powder. She absolutely could not become a homeless hermit cultivator!

Tadadak!

The house was not large. Out of the chamber and around the corner, and the clone on the sofa came into view at once. The talismans were flying in a straight line toward Geumhae. Nain released spiritual energy and thrust out her arm. Pure black energy leapt across the empty air—but it was not enough to catch the swift talismans.

Pababbat!

The talismans blazed with brilliant light. Nain squeezed her eyes shut. That was unmistakably the signal of a talisman activating. She, as their master, would not be hurt. The house taking serious damage was the problem.

My house…

Memories of the home she had shared for the past ten years flashed past. It had never been spacious, but she had never really complained… She would never see it again.

Resigned, she braced for the end.

…

But no impact came. The warm darkness and quiet air of the house were exactly as before. Puzzled, Nain cracked her eyes open.

Fwaaat!

The talismans were still shining hard, as if about to fire—only they were stuck in a rather strange place. They clung tight to the clone’s forehead and were slowly vanishing.

She approached Geumhae with careful steps.

“Geumhae…?”

Srrrk…

Snow-white hair turned to the side. Nain’s eyes went wide. Geumhae, who had been a mindless doll, was moving.

Pkeum. Pkeum.

Geumhae’s mouth opened and closed. Her brows were furrowed and hiked high, as if something were thoroughly unsatisfactory.

Fwaat.

All seven kinds of talismans disappeared. The house fell into complete darkness. Po-woo quietly appeared and displayed the status window.

Nain’s mouth fell open. A sharp cultivator’s mind parsed what had just happened in an instant.

“She… absorbed the talismans?”

In other words: drawing them was not the end. You had to feed the finished talismans to her for the proficiency to rise?

The look Nain turned on Geumhae curdled on the spot.

This thing’s a money-eating monster, isn’t it…

Pkeum. Pkeum.

Geumhae still could not speak. Nain’s future went dark before her eyes.