Wang Qin also shared the same sentiment as his father, but as a new soul fused with another world's knowledge, he couldn't help feeling intrigued by the treasure.
After admiring its intricate etchings for a moment, Wang Qin infused his spiritual sense into it, probing gently.
It responded just as his father had described: basic image projection, wide-range but mundane. But suddenly, Wang Qin started to notice hidden functions layered beneath.
For one, he could create a set of rules within its core matrix, dictating how images manifested based on what the recipient thought, all in accordance with parameters he, the owner, had predefined.
At first, Wang Qin just found it interesting, then a sudden thought struck him and his heart beat in excitement, pounding against his ribs.
Even Wang Qin saw the idea as absurd, a flight of fancy from a mind still bridging two worlds, but as the thought solidified he couldn't throw it away. Perhaps it was the novelty of the idea or the coding spirit lingering from his past life. However, before daring to dream the idea grand, he had to verify if it was feasible at all.
The concept the treasure inspired in Wang Qin was one already circulating in its early stages back in his previous world: a virtual internet, which was actually just a glass showing projections. The treasure did it better.
However, the two worlds were different after all, but the idea was exciting nevertheless. Though he had only just started to fit into his new role, Wang Qin was subconsciously thinking of how to manage the sect because after all, though it wasn't at its prime days now, it was still a fat lion. There was no reason for him to give it up nor was he qualified to.
The main problem of the sect was that it lacked money. If there was enough of it, the sect would be able to operate normally again.
So aside from the novelty and curiosity, Wang Qin couldn't help but wonder if this idea could be a breakthrough for him and the sect.
Even if it didn't work, it also opened another possibility to Wang Qin. He didn't believe that there weren't things he could take from his old world and introduce here that wouldn't be profitable.
Of course, most couldn't connect to the Internet.
In a world with little to no entertainment and a technology level heavily reliant on qi, which made it oddly backward, the Internet provided a lot of possibilities as long as it was possible to make.
But first, what function of the Internet could be introduced that would naturally be useful for cultivators?
It was there that it struck him. Communication. It was amusing how in any world, the importance of this matter remained profoundly high for the advancement of civilization or any group's progress.
The reason he immediately latched onto communication stemmed from the recent tragedy of his father's death. Perhaps if his father had been able to swiftly request assistance after emerging from the secret realm gravely injured, a situation that forced him to hide for years to evade his enemies who would want to take advantage, which only worsened his internal wounds over time, he might not have perished so needlessly.
Wang Qin himself felt little personal grief for the old sect master since the memories were borrowed, but this body's ingrained filial emotions stirred faintly in him.
In any case, this lapse in communication was not isolated to him alone. There existed strict limits to what standard communication talismans could achieve. The greater the transmission range required, the more exorbitantly expensive they became, so much so that even great sects had to tighten their belts and allocate precious resources just to acquire a handful for emergencies. In contrast, this treasure operated freely without ongoing costs, as long as it recognized the user's unique qi signature imprinted upon it, binding owner and device in seamless harmony.
When the sect master had first brought the treasure back from the realm, the elders privy to its details refused to accept that such an item could be deemed useless. Aside from its unparalleled range that appeared unlimited within the bounds of the Great Meng Kingdom, allowing projections across vast distances without fade or delay, it offered little else of note. Aside from range, the owner could only glean the general location of connected parties, a vague directional pull rather than precise coordinates.
Reflecting on it further, this treasure could have served admirably as a tracking device if it possessed the ability to distinguish individual qi signatures, but instead it grouped everything together in a crude cluster. When the number of linked users exceeded two, their signals blurred indistinguishably, making them appear as if originating from the same person and rendering any multi-party coordination chaotic at best.
Elder Huo had once suggested during a sect council that forging a child item attuned to the main treasure might enable two-way image transmission, turning it into a rudimentary relay system. However, the backward minds of these traditionalists failed to grasp the broader implications of communication and just how profitable such a network could prove, most likely because the base function did not distinguish who was who and operated in a strictly one-way manner from host to recipients.
If child items were indeed created, and one actually existed, it could evolve into a viable communication tool between the mother disk and its offspring artifacts, fostering instant exchanges.
Yet this proposal was seen as an insult to an immortal grade treasure, regardless of its seemingly limited function.
Well, it was not exactly an insult in practical terms, but it felt too extravagant, like using a heavenly sword to chop vegetables.
Rather than repurpose it in such a lowly fashion, the elders argued it would be better to dismantle the treasure at great cost in time and effort, then harvest its precious materials that were extremely rare in this world, materials capable of forging multiple emperor-grade artifacts or bolstering the sect's depleted vaults.
The only reason they hadn't done this was because of their respect for him and the grade of the item. After all, as one of the few items that could dramatically affect the world, it was extremely valuable.
Wang Qin mulled over his first step, deciding to start simple and build from there. Since the essence boiled down to communication, anything that could guarantee reliable connections would count as partial success.
Wang Qin began by etching his inaugural rule into the disk's matrix with focused intent, willing the parameters like scripting a basic UI framework. The rule stipulated that whenever a spiritual sense connected to the treasure's inner space, an interface would manifest in the mind's eye.
However, setting rules proved far from as easy as it sounded, each one requiring spirit energy and mental visualization to avoid conflicting overlays that could shatter the fragile balance. To sidestep complications and potential backlash, the subsequent rules stayed as simple as possible.
First came the interface itself, manifesting as a blue transparent slate hovering in mental vision.
Then arrived the app.
Though he wasn't even sure the overarching idea would fully work yet, it didn't stop Wang Qin from being ambitious in his vision.
The sole app icon took the design of a talisman, etched from another rule to evoke familiarity for cultivators.
Additional rules followed: if the spirit focused intent on it, another panel would unfold, revealing options. This triggered yet another rule for sub-menus, then another for input fields, and another for rendering text, building layer by layer until the framework encompassed the interface's appearance, a basic contact list pulled from bound qi signatures, and messaging functionality limited to words for now, sent as projected illusions of script that appeared in the recipient's mind if connected via a child node or the host's broadcast.
Through this meticulous chaining, Wang Qin created his first message app prototype in a cultivation world, a nascent Spirit Messenger that could evolve with more rules, perhaps voice illusions or location pins later. Sweat beaded on his brow from the mental strain, but satisfaction bloomed as the slate stabilized in his probe.
Wang Qin turned to glance out the chamber's arched window, where soft morning light filtered through the mists shrouding the peaks, birds with luminescent feathers chirping in the distance as the sect stirred to life below.
Finding the atmosphere still bathed in dawn's gentle glow, he realized with a start that it was impossible for so little time to have passed. With the exhaustive work he had poured into crafting the Spirit Messenger app, this should have consumed hours, if not the entire day.
It could only mean one thing: this was another day entirely. His immersion in the treasure's matrix had pulled him into a timeless flow state, days blurring in meditative trance as often happened with deep cultivation sessions.
What he didn't know yet was precisely how many days had slipped by. Three? Five?
However, now was time to test if it worked well in practice, and he already had his targets in mind.
If everything went according to plan, Wang Qin had a feeling he was about to make history.