Dawn broke over the shattered peaks of the Azure Cloud Domain, casting a pale, sickly light across the ash fields. Within the Sinkhole Sanctuary, the air vibrated with dense, purified spiritual mist. The system upgrade had deepened the azure pool, its glowing channels humming in harmony with Lylin’s resting pulse. Inside his mindscape, the daily counter reached zero. SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DAILY REFRESH COMPLETE. HOST ENERGY RESTORED: 100/100. AVAILABLE CLONES: 2/2. Lylin opened his eyes on his stone platform. His body felt lighter, more potent, carrying the quiet weight of a cultivator approaching the Foundation Establishment threshold. Flanking him stood his original triad—the Warrior, glowing with smoldering embers; the Scholar, radiating quiet calculation; and the Assassin, folded into the shadows like a forgotten memory. "Two creations today," Lylin stated softly, his voice echoing through the quiet cavern. "It is time to plant our roots in the surface markets and cultivation sects." He focused his mind, triggering the system interface. "CREATE CLONE." Energy drained steadily—one hundred units consumed in rapid succession. Two distinct vortices of light and shadow erupted beside the spiritual pool. The first figure materialized as a burly, middle-aged man with sharp, discerning eyes, wearing simple linen robes. The second was a young woman with a delicate frame, her pupils shimmering with a distinct emerald hue that radiated an innate affinity for living matter and herbs. SYSTEM NOTICE: CLONE FOUR GENERATED: CLASS: MERCHANT / DIPLOMAT. TALENT: GOLDEN TONGUE (UNCOMMON) — INFLUENCES NEGOTIATIONS AND PERCEIVES TRUE MARKET VALUE OF ANY RESOURCE. CLONE FIVE GENERATED: CLASS: ALCHEMIST / HEALER. TALENT: HERBAL AFFINITY (RARE) — PURIFIES PILLS AND EXTRACTS MAXIMUM POTENCY FROM LOW-GRADE SPIRIT HERBS. A cold, satisfied smile touched Lylin’s lips. The architecture of his unseen organization was taking shape at remarkable speed. Raw strength was provided by the Warrior, intelligence by the Scholar, shadow strikes by the Assassin, financial flow by the Merchant, and resource refinement by the Alchemist. "Host," the Merchant clone bowed, his voice warm, polite, and instantly persuasive. "Give me three months and a small fund of spirit-crystals, and I will establish a commercial foothold in the capital of the Azure Cloud Domain." "You will have your funds," Lylin replied. "Scholar, assign two hundred refined spirit-crystals from our hoard to Clone Four. He will enter the capital under the guise of an independent merchant from an outer realm." He then turned his gaze to the Alchemist clone. "You will process the spirit herbs gathered from the Shattered Ridge supply crates. Refine them into basic Healing and Foundation-Nurturing Pills. Our Merchant will sell them; our outer proxies will distribute them." "By your will, Host," the Alchemist whispered, her voice gentle yet entirely devoid of personal doubt, fully aligned with Lylin's consciousness. Lylin then gestured toward the three human refugees resting near the edge of the pool. The Guild leader scrambled forward, bowing until his forehead scraped the damp stone. He had watched the birth of two more identical entities out of thin air, his mind completely shattered by the absolute power displaying before him. "Senior... please, give your orders!" the Guild leader pleaded, his voice trembling. "You and your surviving disciples will leave the sanctuary tonight," Lylin commanded coldly. "You will carry a batch of low-grade pills refined by my Alchemist into the neutral trade cities. You will spread rumors that a mysterious 'Immortal Pavilion' has begun supplying high-purity pills at half the market price." The Guild leader’s eyes widened. "If the Iron-Clad Sect hears of this—" "They will attempt to investigate," Lylin interrupted smoothly. "And when their scouts enter the trade cities to track the source, my Assassin will pluck them from the streets one by one. Their panic will fuel our expansion. Their blood will fuel our energy." "Understood, Senior!" the Guild leader gasped, submitting entirely. By nightfall, the machinery of Lylin’s secret organization moved into gear. The Merchant and Alchemist clones stepped into the outer world alongside the three human proxies, slipping through the hidden mountain passes toward the populated trade hubs of the Azure Cloud Domain. The Assassin glided behind them in the shadows, an unseen guardian ensuring their survival while marking targets for future harvesting. Inside the Sinkhole Sanctuary, Lylin sat cross-legged atop his platform. Through his neural links, he monitored five separate perspectives simultaneously: the Warrior guarding the base, the Scholar mapping array networks, the Assassin stalking surface roads, the Merchant entering a bustling city, and the Alchemist analyzing rare plant species. His consciousness stretched, adapting to the complex demands of multitasking across multiple bodies. The sheer scale of coordination was daunting, a quiet strain buzzing behind his eyes, but his desire for total control outweighed the fatigue. Far above the lower human realm, beyond the clouds and the desolate mountains, the ancient three-headed serpent coiled tightly around its peak. Its three golden eyes remained fixed on the valley below, watching as five faint sparks of light detached from the dark crater, fanning out across the human world like a spider spinning an invisible web. The phantom puppeteer had begun to pull his strings, and the Azure Cloud Domain was about to dance to his rhythm.

The Phantom Web Spreads