When Aksai lifted the brush, the boy was yanked towards it like a magnet, his small form clinging to the brush’s other end.
“Let me go!” the boy screamed, his voice rising in pitch.
But as he tried to free himself, a sudden wave of memories crashed into his mind. He winced in pain, clutching his head as fragments of his original life as Mao flooded back to him. The boy’s eyes widened in shock and realization.
“You… you’re the one who killed me,” he whispered, staring at Aksai with a mixture of fear and recognition. “What have you done to me? Why am I… like this?”
Aksai’s expression remained calm, almost amused.
“You were clever, Mao, but not clever enough. You wanted to implant your consciousness in me, to take over my body slowly. But now, you’re just the spirit of a talisman brush. Your own techniques turned against you.”
The boy—Mao’s consciousness—trembled with rage and fear. “This can’t be… I am Mao, the Darkshade Mao! I can’t be reduced to this!”
“But you are,” Aksai replied coolly. “And now, you’re going to help me. Whether you like it or not.”
Mao’s consciousness seethed, but he was helpless. He was now bound to the talisman brush, his freedom limited and his power greatly diminished. The realization of his new existence, as well as the fragments of his old memories, weighed heavily on him.
Aksai placed the brush back on the table, watching as Mao’s consciousness hovered nervously. “You’ll get used to it,” Aksai said, his tone almost mocking. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll like it being used as a talisman brush.”
Mao’s consciousness glared at Aksai, his youthful face twisted with anger. “This isn’t over,” he growled. “I will find a way out of this. And when I do…”
Mao started threatening even when he had nothing to back up his threats with. His original soul had departed the world and his body was no more. His ego to recognize himself as Mao was nothing but the effect of his previous memories.
In short, he could do nothing without Aksai’s permission. His threats to Aksai were merely an attempt to deal with his new reality.
Aksai merely smiled. “You don’t want to threaten me. I’ll make you experience unimaginable things. Now, what should I call you?”
With a thoughtful expression, Aksai decided on a fitting name for his new tool. “I shall call you the Darkshade Mao Brush,” he declared, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space.
He then focused his attention on the brush, addressing Mao directly. “Mao, do you remember your previous life completely?”
At first, there was no response. Aksai sighed, his patience thinning. He wrapped the brush with his Spirit essence and applied spiritual force. Mao’s consciousness cried out, wincing in phantom pain as if every nerve was being wrung out.
“Please! Stop!” Mao’s voice, hoarse and trembling, echoed from the brush. “I’ll do everything you ask. Just stop!”
Aksai eased his grip, though he kept his voice firm. “Tell me about your memories. I need to know where you found the Consciousness Creation Art.”
Mao’s consciousness seemed to waver, gathering itself before speaking.
“Um… Twenty years ago, I was running deep into the Eternal Beast Dynasty to escape a group of Foundation Building Experts from the Big Five Sects. I found the corpse of a half-step Core Formation Lord inside a cultivation cave deep in the mountains.
There, I discovered the encrypted jade slip and a way to decrypt it on the corpse as well. But apart from a few core memories, everything else about my life is hazy. I still retain my experiences as a 2nd-order talisman artist, capable of creating heretic talismans, though.”
‘Core Formation lord? So CC Art is at least 3rd-order art. I wonder if there is an advanced version of this art available somewhere.’
Aksai nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. Let’s test your capabilities. Draw the same talisman you drew earlier, but using your Heretic Talismanic Dao style.”
Mao hesitated, then responded, “I will need a blank talisman parchment.”
Aksai provided the parchment and watched as the brush lifted into the air on its own, Mao’s consciousness guiding it. Mao, now appearing as a young boy, sat atop the brush, his malevolent eyes focused intently on the task.
The brush was first dipped into a Spirit-essence-infused ink. It then moved with remarkable speed and precision, drawing the talisman in half the time it took Aksai.
The runes and symbols glowed faintly as the talisman was completed. Aksai observed the heretic modifications—enhanced effects at the cost of stability. Despite this trade-off, the talisman was somewhat a success, its power evident.
Aksai felt a surge of satisfaction. “Impressive,” he said, examining the completed talisman.
“With the artifact spirit, I can automate my talisman creation. I can even produce them in large quantities as long as I have the raw ingredients and Spirit essence to support the process.
While I’ll have to draw new talismans initially, you’ll eventually get accustomed to my style and techniques, helping me produce copies quickly and efficiently.”
Mao’s consciousness looked at Aksai, a mix of resignation and defiance in his aged eyes. “What now? What will happen to me?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper.
“Now,” Aksai replied, “you help me create talismans in the future. I guess you were telling the half-truth when you said you wanted to pass on the Heretic Talismanic Dao to someone.
Well, it has now been passed down to me. So your death wish is completed by me, right? Now you can whine about your past in your free time. Or you choose to help me so that we can develop the Heretic Talismanic Dao further.”
The boyish figure nodded, albeit reluctantly. Aksai could sense the underlying resistance, but he also knew Mao had no choice.
With the Darkshade Mao Brush at his side, he could enhance his talismanic creations, delve deeper into the mysteries of the Heretic Talismanic Dao, and even explore the uncharted potentials of the Consciousness Creation Art.
Bound to the brush, Mao’s skills and knowledge were now Aksai’s to command.