Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

"Vesperin," his father's deep, authoritative voice echoed through the hall. "What brings you here so suddenly? You usually report from the academy."

There was an edge to his voice, as if he expected only important matters to interrupt his day. Vesperin could feel the weight of his father's gaze, scrutinizing every move he made.

Without a word, Vesperin approached the throne and pulled out the Nether Puppet Cultivation Manual. He extended it toward his father, his face calm but a flicker of excitement gleamed in his eyes. "Read this first, Father."

The Malachor Clan leader raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. His fingers wrapped around the ancient-looking scroll, and he began to unravel it. His eyes skimmed the first few lines casually, but as he continued reading, his expression transformed. What began as mild interest quickly shifted to wide-eyed shock.

His hand tightened around the manual as he abruptly lifted his head, staring at Vesperin with disbelief etched on his usually stoic face. "Where did you find this?" His voice trembled slightly, the disbelief apparent.

Vesperin crossed his arms, a small, satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I got it from Elder Thalnor, Father. He's the one who created it."

For a moment, his father was speechless. He blinked several times, trying to process what he had just heard. His eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. "Thalnor?" he asked, his voice low and incredulous.

"The same Thalnor who's been regarded as nothing more than a relic? The elder who was sidelined because he lacked the cultivation strength the rest of us possessed? He made this?" His tone shifted from disbelief to a mixture of curiosity and astonishment.

"Yes," Vesperin said confidently, nodding. "It surprised me too, but it turns out that Thalnor's knowledge in corpse puppetry is far greater than any of us thought. He's perfected this cultivation manual."

His father's eyes narrowed, still trying to grasp the magnitude of the situation. "He's been underestimated for years… and now he comes up with this?" There was a hint of admiration in his voice now, as if recognizing the genius of a man he had previously dismissed.

Vesperin nodded again, a smirk creeping across his lips as he saw the rising curiosity in his father's eyes. "He's also created something else, Father—something far more powerful. A six-star Nether Puppet for the Nether Puppet cultivation manual. It's unlike any puppet we've ever seen before."

His father's expression shifted, skepticism mingling with intrigue. "A six-star Nether Puppet, you say? Show me."

With a confident flick of his hand, Vesperin reached into his spatial ring and summoned the Nether Puppet. The room grew colder as the dark-red figure materialized before them.

The dim light of the hall reflected off its skin, which had a deep, blood-like hue, and a sinister aura seemed to seep from its very being.

It stood rigidly, resembling a regular corpse puppet, but its menacing aura was palpable—thicker and far more intimidating than anything Vesperin's father had seen before.

The Malachor Clan leader's eyes narrowed, his experienced gaze scrutinizing the puppet. "It's... darker. More potent than the others," he muttered, stepping closer. His fingers twitched, already itching to test its durability.

Without warning, and with no further hesitation, he raised his arm and unleashed a powerful blow, his fist slamming into the puppet's chest with the force of a Seven-Star cultivator.

The impact reverberated through the hall, the sound of cracking stone echoing as the Nether Puppet was flung across the room like a ragdoll, crashing violently into the far wall and leaving a visible dent in the stone.

Vesperin stood still, watching silently with an air of confidence. He didn't flinch or show any sign of concern, knowing the puppet's resilience far exceeded that of a normal corpse puppet.

As the dust settled, the Malachor Clan leader's brows furrowed. He watched closely, expecting the puppet to have been shattered, its body rendered useless. But to his astonishment, the Nether Puppet remained intact.

The damage it had sustained—a few broken bones, cracks along its dark-red exterior—was superficial. The puppet, though damaged, was still functioning. It remained upright, waiting, as if the blow hadn't crippled it at all.

The Clan leader took a deep breath, stepping forward and placing his hand on the puppet's chest. He traced the cracks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"This... this is incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "My strike should've obliterated a six-star puppet. This one has taken damage, but nothing that can't be repaired."

He turned toward Vesperin, his eyes gleaming with newfound respect. "The force I just used would have critically injured even a specially crafted corpse puppet. And yet, this Nether Puppet... it's still standing."

Vesperin smiled wider, satisfied with his father's reaction. "Exactly, Father. Elder Thalnor's creation is far beyond anything we've had access to. This is the future of our clan's corpse puppetry."

His father's mind was already spinning with possibilities, his lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated the ramifications. "Elder Thalnor," he muttered, almost to himself. "He's outdone himself with this. We could revolutionize our clan's power structure with these Nether Puppets."

Pausing for a moment, his father's voice grew commanding once more. "Vesperin, bring Thalnor to me at once. I need to speak with him personally about this creation."

Vesperin nodded eagerly, knowing full well the significance of what he had just witnessed. "Yes, Father," he said, his voice brimming with pride. He quickly turned on his heel, making his way toward the door.

The Clan leader watched his son leave, his eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts raced. A sly smile crept onto his face. "With the Nether Puppet cultivation technique," he whispered to himself, his tone dark and ambitious, "our clan will rise to new heights. No one will stand in our way."

As Vesperin disappeared from sight, the leader of the Malachor Clan leaned back, already imagining the future where the clan would dominate the surrounding territories with an army of unbreakable puppets under his command.