I was so immersed in the discovery of this world that I immediately began documenting everything around me.
I started with the area surrounding my spacecraft. Every plant, every rock, every change in the atmosphere—I carefully recorded it all. What I thought would take a few hours slowly turned into an entire day and a half.
During that time, I noticed something strange.
I wasn't hungry.
Normally, after such intense work, my body would have demanded food long ago. Yet the hunger never came. Instead, I felt strangely energized, as if something in the air itself was sustaining me.
I quickly noted the observation.
"It is amazing… this mana might be able to substitute the need for food, at least for a certain period."
If that was true, it would be an incredible discovery.
So I decided to test it.
From that moment onward, I would carefully document how long a human body could survive without food in this world while being surrounded by mana.
With that goal in mind, I ventured deeper into the forest, hoping to find more interesting samples and phenomena to study.
The forest was dense and filled with unfamiliar plants. Some trees towered high above the ground, their branches stretching into the sky. Wanting a better view of the surrounding area, I began climbing one of the larger trees.
Halfway up the trunk, something moved below.
I looked down.
And my body froze.
A fox stood beneath the tree.
Except… it wasn't a normal fox.
The creature was enormous—easily the size of a car. Its fur shimmered faintly, and its sharp eyes were fixed directly on me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then the fox crouched.
Before I could react, it jumped.
The impact knocked me straight out of the tree.
I hit the ground hard, the air leaving my lungs in a painful gasp. Fear gripped my entire body as the creature landed beside me.
I had only just found a reason to live again… and now I was about to die.
The fox lunged and grabbed my shoulder with its jaws, slamming me against the ground. Its teeth tore into my flesh.
Pain exploded through my body.
I screamed as it began chewing into my arm. I could feel bones cracking, muscles tearing apart. My arm was barely attached anymore, hanging grotesquely from shattered bone.
Blood poured onto the forest floor.
Even in a world filled with mana, an injury like this was fatal.
Any normal human would die from blood loss.
And I… was only a mortal.
But I was not completely helpless.
Summoning the last bit of strength I had left, I unfroze and shouted for help.
"Ship… deploy support drone!"
A moment later, a metallic blur shot out from the direction of my spacecraft. The scout drone slammed directly into the fox's head with tremendous force.
The beast stumbled backward, releasing its grip on my shoulder.
I collapsed onto the ground, gasping in pain, but quickly forced myself to look up. Twisting my torso, I observed the creature from a closer distance.
At first glance, it was just a fox—only much larger.
But something felt wrong.
I knew the destructive power of the drone. Even though it was only a scout unit, its reinforced body was designed to operate in dangerous environments. Its impact alone could easily shatter brick walls or dent iron plating.
A hit like that should have crushed the skull of any animal on Earth.
Yet the fox only staggered back with minor injuries.
Fascinating.
Even while blood continued to pour from my arm, my mind couldn't stop analyzing the situation.
This world's creatures were far stronger than anything from my home planet.
I dragged my body backward across the ground, trying to put some distance between myself and the beast.
The fox slowly regained its footing and stared at the hovering drone. Its eyes narrowed as if trying to understand the strange metal object floating before it.
It probably thought it was some kind of metal beast.
I almost laughed despite the pain.
Then something unbelievable happened.
The fox muttered a few strange words.
My eyes widened in shock.
It… was talking.
This was no ordinary beast. It was an intelligent creature capable of speech.
But by the time the realization struck me, it was already too late for the fox.
My spacecraft had already locked onto the target.
A small cannon extended from the ship's hull.
With a sharp flash, a cannon bolt shot forward and pierced directly through the fox's head, leaving a massive hole.
For a brief moment, the creature remained standing.
Incredibly… it was still alive.
The headless body staggered forward, trying to run.
Then the explosive charge inside the cannon bolt activated.
The fox's body burst apart in a violent explosion, and the massive creature finally collapsed onto the forest floor.
The forest fell silent once again.
I carried the fox back to my spaceship, my body still shaking from the shock.
I was stunned by what had just happened.
Inside, I locked the ship and initiated the safety protocols.
The ship began scanning the jungle, a deep unease settling in my chest.
I had never imagined any animal could be so terrifying.
I had sent scout drones before, but I only focused on humans—mortals and cultivators.
I never thought an animal could become this deadly.
It was my biggest mistake, and it almost cost me my life.
I sank into the medical bed, as the ship's systems began working on my arm.
They sterilized the wound, started the surgery, and slowly, I drifted into sleep, the pain finally fading into oblivion.
I don't know how long I spent sleeping.
When I emerged from the medical pod, I realized the fox's body was already decaying.
The stench of rotting flesh filled the cabin.
Confused, I began operating on the fox's remains.
I analyzed every strand of fur, every muscle, every fiber.
That's when I found something incredible—a solid core of golden mana.
This core sustained the fox's life.
It was broken into pieces, but the discovery was astounding.
The fox's body had no need to eat, drink, or expel waste.
It was entirely repurposed to process mana.
The golden core was so dense that mana itself became solid.
Mana was normally in the air, but here it was concentrated.
I realized this was a rare feat—condensing mana into a solid form.
I watched the recording of the fox being shot again and realized something vital.
The fox died because its mana core broke.
If that core hadn't shattered, maybe the fox could have survived—even after its head was blown off.
I wrote down everything immediately.
My hands were shaking with excitement.
I couldn't wait to report this discovery back to Earth.
This could create an entirely new branch of science.
A field where mana would be studied as a fundamental force of nature.
I was certain of it.
This would become my greatest discovery.
Greater even than my first breakthrough.
For the sake of science, I tried to overcome my fear of this world.
I decided to go back into the outer forest.
There had to be more secrets waiting to be discovered.
I walked to the control panel and checked the scans my spaceship had collected.
The moment I saw the results, my heart stopped.
There were more animals like the fox.
Many more.
Two of them had power signatures almost identical to the fox I killed.
Fortunately, they were far away from my current position.
Still, the fear returned.
What if I died out there?
Who would report this theory to humanity?
Who would tell Earth what I had discovered?
I needed to study those creatures.
I needed to understand their bodies and their mana cores.
And so I made a decision I never thought I would make.
I decided to use the cloning machine.
It was something I had always opposed.
For a long time, I never even wanted to live anymore.
But now… things were different.
Science had given me a reason to live again.
I walked into the medical section of the ship.
That was where the body-cloning system was installed.
It was not a normal cloning machine like the ones used on Earth.
This system was designed to grow body parts.
Arms.
Legs.
Organs.
Normally it was used to treat severe injuries.
Lost limbs could be regrown and attached back to the patient.
But I modified the process.
Instead of growing one limb…
I began growing an entire body.
The process was painful.
Excruciatingly painful.
Normally artificial flesh farms would supply the biological material needed for cloning.
But I didn't have that luxury.
The only source of biological material I had…
Was my own body.
Every day I drained some of my blood.
Every day I cut small pieces of flesh from my body for the machine to process.
The cloning chamber slowly used that material to grow the duplicate.
This continued for an entire month.
Cutting.
Healing.
Cutting again.
Fortunately, the mana in this world helped my body recover faster than normal.
The spiritual herbs around my ship also accelerated the healing process.
My body had already been genetically enhanced to live far longer than a normal human.
Because of that, my flesh regenerated quickly.
Still…
It was a month of unbearable pain.
A month of cutting and healing.
But finally, after thirty days…
I stood in front of the cloning chamber.
Inside the glass container…
A perfect duplicate of myself.
I stood before the cloning chamber, staring at my duplicate's awakening eyes.
The body was perfect. Physically identical to myself in every measurable way. But a body without a mind was merely meat—useless for what I needed to accomplish.
I had to give it consciousness.
The process began in my quarters, where I interfaced directly with the ship's neural systems.
My brain had been enhanced long ago with sophisticated implants—devices that allowed me to communicate with machinery as naturally as thinking.
These same implants had recorded every fragment of my existence. Every memory, every sight, every sound, every thought pattern was captured in crystalline detail.
Creating a digital copy of those neural pathways was straightforward.
The machinery had been designed for exactly this purpose.
But as I initiated the transfer protocol, I found myself hesitating.
Emotions. The weight of seventeen hundred years pressed against my consciousness like a physical force. Grief, despair, loneliness, moments of desperate hope—all of it crystallized into something I could barely carry myself.
To copy that suffering into a new mind felt like condemning an innocent to hell.
I couldn't do it.
Instead, I isolated the technical knowledge, the memories of procedures and data, the accumulated expertise of centuries.
I created a perfect replica of my intellect while carefully excising the emotional substrate that made me... me.
The clone would have all my knowledge. None of my scars.
I uploaded the neural pattern into the waiting body.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the duplicate's eyes focused. They moved with purpose, tracking my position with sudden awareness. Its mouth opened, and for the first time, it spoke in a voice identical to my own.
"Status report."
There was no confusion in those words. No existential shock. Just the cold, professional tone of someone accessing fresh data.
I felt a strange mixture of relief and unease.
"You are operational," I replied.
The moment Huang shing opened his eyes I knew immediately that this version of myself would be different.
"So we have made a discovery,"
Huang shing said, his voice trembling with an energy I had almost forgotten I possessed.
"I'm so happy to explore. Can you let me take control?"
I laughed—genuinely laughed—at the pure, unbridled enthusiasm radiating from him.
This clone carried none of my exhaustion, none of my accumulated despair. He had my knowledge, my expertise, my scientific mind. But he had none of my seventeen hundred years of weariness.
"First, you need implants," I said,
already leading him toward the medical bay.
Huang shing didn't argue.
He sprinted ahead like an excited child, his naked form moving with unself-conscious grace through the corridors of my ship.
I almost called after him to dress, but I stopped myself. In this world, clothing would mark him as an outsider. The natives would be suspicious of anything unfamiliar. Better to let him move freely, openly, as just another creature in their wilderness.
The surgical procedure took hours.
I installed neural implants directly into his brain—devices that would let him interface with my ship's systems, to transmit data in real time. I added health monitoring implants, reaction enhancers, everything that would keep him alive in a hostile world.
When it was finished, Huang shing stood up from the operating table with barely contained excitement.
"The jungle calls," he said simply.
Before I could even respond, he was already moving toward the airlock.
I watched from the observation deck as his naked form disappeared into the dense forest, his movements quick and purposeful, already analyzing everything around him.
A week passed.
For seven days, I tracked his position through the implants, receiving constant streams of data as he tore through the jungle with methodical curiosity.
He dissected plants.
He documented animal behavior.
He collected samples of everything,
sending me detailed analysis after each discovery.
But his true destination was the village.
The settlement was small—barely a hundred houses clustered together in a clearing where the forest thinned.
I had marked it on my maps weeks ago, but I had not dared approach it myself. That task, I had decided, belonged to Huang shing.
When he arrived at the village's edge, the reaction was immediate.
Women screamed. Men shouted in alarm. Children pointed and laughed at the naked stranger emerging from the wilderness. Their disgust was palpable, radiating from every face.
But Huang shing did not react with offense. Instead, I felt him suppress something—a surge of contempt that nearly broke through his disciplined exterior.
Monkeys,
I could sense him thinking. Primitive creatures playing at civilization.
But he controlled himself. He had learned from my centuries of observations that blending in was far more valuable than standing out.
So Huang shing did something far more subtle and infinitely more useful.
He began to listen.
The villagers spoke rapidly among themselves, their words tumbling over one another in a language I had never heard before. But Huang shing stood perfectly still, absorbing every phoneme, every inflection, every tonal shift.
His enhanced neural implants were doing what they were designed to do—decoding, analyzing, breaking down the structure of their speech.
And he transmitted it all back to me.
Hour after hour, he remained in that village, seemingly lost and confused, playing the role of a harmless wanderer.
But with every conversation, every overheard phrase, the language became clearer. The patterns emerged. The meanings crystallized.
By nightfall, I had enough linguistic data to begin building a functional translation matrix.
Huang shing had done in a single day , what otherwise would have taken weeks doing with my drones
I sat in the control center of my ship, watching the decoded transmissions stream across my screens, and I felt something I had not felt in centuries.
Hope.
Now I could begin to understand their world—the world of cultivation, of mana, of golden cores and spiritual herbs.
Now, the real research could begin.