Chapter 24: Be a Complete-Realm Traffic Monster

Feng Xue reread it all, confirmed his understanding was sound, then pulled out the secret manual copied from the mortuary and compared the Substitute Spell with the Staff-Hosting Spell, realizing their theories were essentially the same—but the Staff-Hosting Spell emphasized foresight: setting up an altar and ritual beforehand to trigger the spell even when his cultivation level was insufficient and no altar was prepared.

“Wait… this part…” Feng Xue flipped to the Spirit-Infusing Spell and immediately understood.

In plain terms, the Staff-Hosting Spell was simply a fusion of the Spirit-Infusing Spell and the Substitute Spell—not that Feng Xue got cheated, since even with inspiration, developing it himself would’ve taken him at least a year or two.

But once he grasped this, Feng Xue abandoned further close reading and turned to the other books, skimming them all and arriving at a conclusion that was unexpected yet perfectly logical—

The twelve spells bought from Ninth Aunt were, in essence, all variants and derivatives of the four core spells: Substitute, Spirit-Infusing, Spirit-Invoking, and Lightning-Calling.

Spells like Object-Calling, Ghost-Driving, Paper-Cutting, Spirit-Striding, Demon-Slaying, and Curse-Prayer were all derivatives of the Spirit-Infusing Spell, differing only in the medium of infusion and the resulting effects.

The Fire-Calling Spell was a variant of the Lightning-Calling Spell, merely replacing “transforming Qi into electricity” with “transforming Qi into flame,” with the added benefit of increased heat resistance.

Surprisingly, the seemingly mundane Purify-Dust Spell was actually a variant of the Spirit-Invoking Spell—it filtered the collective willpower of people’s desire for cleanliness or aversion to dirt, attaching it to a target to prevent filth from adhering, thus automatically cleansing it.

As Feng Xue read on, he suddenly understood why Master Qian’s two disciples only learned four manuals.

As the manual stated, once one mastered the altar and basic rituals, these four core spells alone, when fully understood, allowed one to independently develop countless personal spells—just as learning math means mastering mental arithmetic and fundamental theorems before memorizing complex calculus formulas.

The most extraordinary of these spells, however, was the one named [Hutian], meaning “Heaven in a Pot.”

Based on its ritual and descriptions, it too should be classified as a fusion of the four core spells—Spirit-Infusing, Spirit-Invoking, Substitute, and Lightning-Calling—but its absurdity lay in Feng Xue’s inability to comprehend how combining these four techniques could turn an ordinary pocket into a space bag capable of holding ten or a hundred times its volume without adding weight.

Just as he couldn’t understand how the white snake, upon hearing him say one word, could transform from a thirty-centimeter-long, half-pound creature into a beautiful girl one hundred sixty-eight centimeters tall and weighing over a hundred jin.

But with mystical arts, overthinking isn’t necessary—Feng Xue only needed to know that mastering the Hutian Spell meant he wouldn’t have to drag a fifteen-kilogram backpack through the streets.

As for the mechanism? Who cared! It certainly wasn’t opening a pocket dimension and summoning a deity inside to hold everything up.

“Alright, first small goal: master the [Hutian Spell]!”

…

“Fine, I admit this goal’s too hard—I’ll just master the four basic spells first.”

Just half a day later, Feng Xue stared at the pile of ruined bags and decisively abandoned his plan to skip the basics and jump straight to the Hutian Spell.

Interpreting the ritual, he realized the Hutian Spell was fundamentally a “transfer of cost”: it required setting up an altar beforehand to attract the collective willpower of people wishing to “lighten their burden,” sealing it into a bag, box, or even a warehouse; then, using the Substitute Spell, linking the Hutian bag to this “substitute” saturated with willpower, effectively making the substitute bear the bag’s weight and volume.

Though he still couldn’t grasp why the Substitute Spell transferred even volume and weight, at least the logic now flowed smoothly.

But smooth logic didn’t guarantee success—within those half days, Feng Xue attempted nearly twenty times and failed to complete even the first stage—

He couldn’t even make a single “substitute bag” capable of holding willpower!

Yet the effort wasn’t wasted: in analyzing the rituals, Feng Xue realized the four fundamental spells represented four properties of Qi.

[Lightning-Calling] corresponded to “Transformation,” capable of altering Qi’s nature;

[Substitute] corresponded to “Transfer,” capable of transmitting Qi across distance;

[Spirit-Infusing] corresponded to “Fixation,” capable of maintaining Qi in a specific state for extended periods;

Finally, [Spirit-Invoking] corresponded to “Filtering”—though originally designed to distinguish the traits of willpower and spirits to avoid summoning malevolent entities, this mechanism could also extract desired portions from complex willpower.

Only by mastering these properties could one fully unleash a spell’s power.

Extinguishing the candle, Feng Xue gulped down the last lukewarm tea, reset his mindset, then picked up a ruler to measure the two candles, trimming the longer one before relighting both.

An altar, in essence, resembled the tables in Lin Zhengying’s zombie films—filled with incense, candles, talismans, and strange objects—but beyond merely keeping tools within reach, the core function of this universal altar lay in the two candles.

As previously noted, for novice Xuan cultivators, the altar acted like a voltage regulator, enabling those unable to precisely control Qi with their spirit to output it more steadily.

But it wasn’t a convenient device that automatically adjusted violent inputs—it was simpler, like a manual transmission—

Simply put: when releasing Qi, first split it evenly into two streams, guiding them through the two candles, then releasing it from the flame tips; by observing the flame’s behavior, one could adjust Qi output in real time.

If the flame flickered violently, Qi flow was unstable; if the flame was weak, Qi flowed too fast; if the two candles burned unevenly, Qi output was unbalanced…

By such observation, one could continuously fine-tune Qi flow to maximize balance, stability, and uniformity, thereby increasing spell success rates.

In essence, it was like a novice chef using a thermometer to judge oil temperature instead of relying on experience.

Again and again, Feng Xue channeled Qi through the candle flames, yet he didn’t attempt any spell—he simply used this continuous output to acclimate himself to controlling this unfamiliar force.

Though enhancing spirit strength naturally improved control precision, Feng Xue was destined to become a [Traffic Monster]; to harness the advantage gained by trading his lifespan rather than letting it become a burden, he couldn’t merely care about [horsepower]—his [Complete Realm] must match it. (Note ①)

Rather than gaining immense strength first and then refining fine control, it was better to adapt to precision from the very beginning.

After all… the control precision granted by a perfected spirit might not truly master his inevitably overpowered Qi.

Note ①: This uses a Haihu-style description.

Horsepower can be understood as cultivation level, equivalent to Golden Core, Nascent Soul, etc., in xianxia.

Traffic refers to the energy pool at the same level—high traffic means a longer blue bar, greater single-output capacity, and faster recovery.

Complete Realm refers to mastery and full utilization of every unit of power; only with this can one truly enter the ranks of the strong. With a hundred bullets, low Complete Realm means random spraying; high Complete Realm means placing every bullet exactly where desired.

The protagonist traded his lifespan, so his blue bar grows faster than his level—while others at the same level need to control ten units of Qi, he must control a hundred or even a thousand. Though he could simply overwhelm enemies with sheer volume, if his opponent has equal spell strength, he’ll be easily pierced by a skilled micro-manager—he must catch up on micro-control.

It’s like Bao’erjie’s Zhongshan Mountain (cough)—huge energy pool, but each shot is like giving someone a bath; Bao’erjie never learned the technique, but the protagonist’s spirit growth lags behind his blue bar growth.

Of course, the protagonist could slow his blue bar growth—but that would mean abandoning his advantage.

In infinite-stream terms, it’s like exchanging power and gene locks: without unlocking the gene lock, you only access a fraction of your exchanged power; the protagonist naturally unlocks greater power from exchanges, but he needs a higher gene lock level to fully unleash it.

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(End of Chapter)