Not so different, he supposed. Still a body that lacked a soul. He'd often wondered just what Mo Xuanyu had looked like, before the soul-transferring ritual that had granted him a new lease on life, before he'd gotten to the point where giving up everything for revenge was the only option. Now he just looked like, well, his old self, right down to the little beauty mark under his lip.

"How do you make one?" he asks, genuinely curious. Shepard's distaste is clear, "wait, wait, why would it come up?"

Maybe he's not actively practicing demonic cultivation, but it doesn't mean he's lost all interest in researching new scientific, ritualistic, or cultivation methods and where they might lead. Wasn't a copy better? It wasn't taking a life from someone else, was it?

He opened his mouth with more questions on his tongue, but was diverted to the task at hand. Too small?

"Mm, and what would you do, then?" he smiles, any sort of insult to the words rolling off him easily. If Shepard has better ideas for mischief, he's all ears.