Chapter 24: The Marvelous Utility of the "Talisman" Mark

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

After failing more than ten times in a row, Xu Changshou's expression turned remarkably foul. He strongly suspected he possessed absolutely zero talent for this craft.

Whether he could master talisman drawing within six months was suddenly a terrifying unknown.

Abandoning the brush, Xu Changshou sat in silence and delved into the Great Dao Talisman Scripture.

Beyond detailing a Cultivation method, the scripture contained vast repositories of esoteric knowledge regarding talisman arrays and the specific Qi-channeling techniques required to forge them.

After cross-referencing with the Great Dao Talisman Scripture, Xu Changshou realized that Yang Bailao's technique was incredibly unorthodox. In fact, it was little more than a crude, brute-force method cobbled together by someone who fundamentally did not understand the Dao of Talismans.

True talisman crafting required perfect harmony with one's core Cultivation technique.

Forcing a spirit brush to bleed Qi onto Yellow Hemp Paper was merely a Novice method.

While Yellow Hemp Paper was significantly tougher than mortal parchment, it could only endure the strain of common, first-grade talismans.

In truth, even certain first-grade talismans possessing higher attack power or overly violent attributes simply could not be contained by it.

The paper acted as the array's vessel. If the array was too potent or its elemental nature too volatile, the structural integrity of the Yellow Hemp Paper would simply fail.

Take the Thunder Explosion Talisman, for example. Such a charm housed the raw, untamed power of lightning. How cataclysmic was the Dao of Lightning? A flimsy scrap of Yellow Hemp Paper could never hope to harness it.

Consequently, higher-grade materials were strictly required to serve as vessels.

Spiritual wood, the hides of Spirit Beasts, or even specialized rocks, jade, and tempered metals could all serve as carriers; the art was never meant to be confined to paper.

The more resilient the vessel, the more Spiritual Qi it could store, which naturally translated to exponentially greater destructive power.

Within the genuine, ancient heritage of talisman crafting, the medium was never restricted. All things in creation could serve as a canvas, and even Magical Artifacts could be inscribed to bear talismanic arrays.

The steep decline of the Dao of Talismans in the modern Cultivation world boiled down to two fatal flaws.

First, the arrays were incredibly diverse. A true talisman master typically required a minimum of four elemental attributes within their spirit root. The more elemental affinities one possessed, the broader their path of inscription.

The glaring contradiction was that the more attributes a cultivator's spirit root possessed, the more agonizingly slow their Cultivation speed became.

No matter how heaven-defying one's talent for the brush might be, if their cultivation realm stagnated, their ultimate achievements would forever remain crippled.

Second, contemporary Cultivators blindly accepted the dogma that talisman crafting was synonymous with Yellow Hemp Paper. This crippling misconception had severely suffocated the development and inheritance of the craft.

It wasn't merely the Yellow Hemp Paper that was lacking; the cheap spirit brush in Xu Changshou's hand was equally garbage. The brush itself would likely disintegrate if he attempted to channel violent lightning Qi through its bristles.

To successfully forge a Thunder Explosion Talisman, or any array of the second grade or higher, he desperately needed superior tools.

Over the following days, Xu Changshou forcefully calmed his mind and dedicated himself fully to dissecting the Great Dao Talisman Scripture.

Ten days later, a flicker of true comprehension dawned in his mind.

He brought out his spirit brush and a fresh stack of Yellow Hemp Paper, preparing for his second attempt.

This session proceeded much smoother. He managed to complete one-third of a Windwalk Talisman before the array destabilized and exploded in his face.

It was a failure, but compared to his disastrous first attempt, it was a monumental leap forward.

He pushed through another dozen attempts, only lowering his brush when the Spiritual Qi within his meridians had been completely bled dry.

While meditating to restore his depleted Dantian, Xu Changshou would simultaneously pour over the Great Dao Talisman Scripture, obsessively analyzing the exact reasons behind each explosive failure.

Through this grueling cycle, his progress skyrocketed.

Twenty days later, he could consistently push a Windwalk Talisman to two-thirds completion before it shattered. The improvement was tangible.

Lacking the Spirit Stones to afford Qi Replenishing Pills, Xu Changshou could only afford to drain his Dantian once per day. Once emptied, he was forced into deep meditation to naturally gather Qi, using the downtime to further study the scripture.

One month later.

"Success."

The Windwalk Talisman lay finished upon the desk. The completed array imbued the crude Yellow Hemp Paper with an ethereal lightness, the parchment now radiating a faint, mesmerizing cyan luster.

Let's see what this can do!

Slapping the Windwalk Talisman onto his thigh, Xu Changshou immediately felt an updraft swirling beneath his feet. As he broke into a sprint, his physical body felt practically weightless.

The Windwalk Talisman was genuinely miraculous. Even a mortal who triggered this array could cross a thousand li before the sun set.

Returning to his desk, he continued his work.

Next, he attempted a Fireball Talisman.

This time, the brush flowed like water. He completed it in a single, uninterrupted stroke.

Once more.

Xu Changshou leveled his spirit brush and began channeling for a Sword Qi Talisman.

The moment the final stroke of the Sword Qi Talisman connected, Xu Changshou's vision swam with dark spots. His knees buckled, and a hollow, bone-deep weakness washed over his entire body.

Forcing his consciousness inward, Xu Changshou made a miserable discovery: the Spiritual Qi in his Dantian had been wrung completely dry.

Stranded at the seventh layer of Qi Condensation, successfully drafting three first-grade spirit talismans in a single sitting was his absolute physical limit.

This is a serious problem.

His brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

Accounting for natural recovery, pushing out five talismans a day would push him to the brink of collapse.

Which meant he could just barely satisfy the Sect's daily quota.

If he wanted to secretly forge extra talismans, his mortal shell would simply break under the strain.

If that remained the case, then possessing the Bloodline Jade Talisman, the Great Dao Talisman Scripture, and hundreds of divine arrays was practically useless.

Bleeding himself dry just to meet the Sect's demands left him utterly destitute of the energy needed to build his own secret stockpile or earn extra wealth.

Ultimately, he would end up exactly like Yang Bailao: tethered to a desk, bled dry by the Sect for the rest of his miserable life, with zero hope of ever glimpsing the Foundation Establishment realm.

A suffocating wave of despair threatened to swallow him.

It seemed his fate was still out of his hands.

To hell with it. I need to recover my Qi first.

Banishing his turbulent thoughts, Xu Changshou settled into his meditative posture and silently circulated his cultivation technique, prioritizing the restoration of his hollow Dantian.

The drain had been far too severe this time; his core felt like a cracked, dry well.

Suddenly.

A searing heat erupted in the center of his right palm. The ancient "Talisman" mark flared with a crimson glow. Exactly like a high-grade Spirit Gathering Array, it violently began to suck in the ambient Spiritual Qi of the courtyard.

Bypassing his meridians entirely, Xu Changshou could directly channel this gathered Spiritual Qi through the mark on his palm, instantly flooding his empty Dantian.

What is this? This is incredible!

A mere shichen later, his reserves had returned to their absolute peak. The sheer velocity of this absorption eclipsed even the effects of a Qi Replenishing Pill.

What exactly was this brand, that it could passively gorge itself on ambient spiritual energy?

Wait... could I siphon ambient Qi simultaneously while drafting?

His eyes widened with manic realization.

If he could trigger the mark's absorption cycle while actively holding the brush, he would effectively be using the heaven and earth as his inkwell, rather than his own life force.

If he could draft arrays without draining his own foundation... he would be truly invincible.

I have to try this immediately.

Gripping his spirit brush, his hands trembled with adrenaline.

As he initiated the first stroke, he consciously shunted a thread of his awareness and Qi into the flesh housing the "Talisman" mark.

The result was absolutely jaw-dropping. The hidden brand flared to life, acting as an active siphon. It greedily drank the surrounding Spiritual Qi and aggressively pumped it straight into the tip of the spirit brush.

The only minor flaw was that the external intake couldn't fully bridge the gap; Xu Changshou still had to supplement the flow with a fraction of his own internal reserves to maintain stability.

Yet, even with that minor tax, his efficiency had just skyrocketed.

He drafted three flawless arrays in rapid succession, but checking his Dantian, he found only a mere third of his reserves had been tapped.

Refusing to be reckless, he paused. He utilized the mark to gorge his Dantian back to absolute fullness before picking up the brush again.

By the end of the day, a stack of twenty pristine talismans sat upon his desk-four times the Sect's daily quota.

However, even with the brand acting as a limitless battery, manually guiding the arrays twenty times still placed an immense mental and physical strain on his mortal body.

The following day, he restricted himself to ten talismans. He felt no fatigue, his mind sharp and his spirit buoyant.

On the third day, he pushed it to fifteen.

After rigorous testing, he cemented his golden ratio: fifteen talismans a day was his optimal limit. Five to satisfy the vampiric Sect, and ten to secretly stockpile for his own ascension.

"Hahaha... perfect!"

A manic, predatory grin split Xu Changshou's face. The looming threat of the Sect's lethal quotas evaporated like mist in the sun.

In a single stroke of heaven-defying fortune, the massive boulder crushing his path to immortality had been thoroughly smashed to dust.