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Gazing at the small black bird perched in the palm of her hand, Han Shuangyuan was fully aware that some unknown change had occurred within her. The many words from the staff were enough to set off alarm bells.

As a bona fide adult, Han Shuangyuan had no intention of revealing this matter to anyone before she understood why her mimicry exhibited a dual form. Like the memory of her past life, this secret would forever remain buried deep in her heart.

After dispersing the mimicry into strands of light, she pushed open the door of the washroom.

Just as the guard had said, awakening one’s spiritual power always carried risks; if the method was improper, it could cause damage to the brain’s domain. Thus, as a rule, after completing the awakening, one had to remain at the base for ten minutes of observation. Only if no adverse reactions appeared could they leave on their own.

The observation area was not very large. A few people sat sparsely on the sofas, and near the walls stood a large floor-standing container filled with nutritional fluid. Several children with patched clothes queued in front of the container, waiting to receive their drinks.

Han Shuangyuan also took a cup and joined the line.

After awakening her mimicry, she felt extraordinarily hungry. The scent of the nutritional fluid made her salivate uncontrollably, her head spinning and eyes dimming, nearly unable to walk.

When it was her turn, she filled her cup to the brim.

Normally, one cup of nutritional fluid would be more than enough. Yet after tilting her head back to drink it down, her stomach remained hollow, the dizziness persisted, and she was still ravenous.

What was going on?

Perplexed, Han Shuangyuan took another cup and went back to the end of the line.

According to imperial welfare policy, the entire cost of the spiritual power awakening process was borne by the government. This meant all items in the observation area were free. The children who had queued multiple times were clearly taking advantage of this, filling their bellies as much as possible to save on daily meals.

Given Han Shuangyuan’s family circumstances after transmigration, saving money was naturally a priority.

Exploiting the empire’s generosity was perfectly reasonable!

Thus, she queued back and forth over a dozen times.

Immersed in hunger, she failed to notice that as her number of trips increased, the other children began to look dazed and dared not approach, watching from a distance with eyes full of awe.

Some whispered low counts: “Forty-one, forty-two... My goodness, is she a bottomless pit?”

After downing dozens of cups in front of the nutritional fluid barrel, Han Shuangyuan finally felt the familiar sensation of fullness. She glanced at the empty cup and furrowed her brow at her abnormal appetite.

Fortunately, the observation area was equipped with medical AI capable of conducting immediate body scans.

After a rapid scan, the AI responded, “Upon examination, your body is in excellent health.”

“According to studies by the Imperial Academy of Sciences, after spiritual power awakening, a human’s physical fitness temporarily improves. Symptoms such as drowsiness, headache, and fatigue within a short period are normal reactions.”

Since drowsiness was normal, then short-term binge drinking must be as well.

With the medical AI’s reassurance, Han Shuangyuan relaxed, contentedly rubbed her stomach, tossed aside the paper cup, and strode away.

After she left, the display on the nutritional fluid barrel flickered, flashing a red warning.

[Insufficient nutritional fluid in container. Please wait for staff to refill.]

“What’s going on?”

Minutes later, the on-duty staff hurried over, their expressions full of confusion.

They had just filled the barrel with over ten gallons of nutritional fluid yesterday.

In theory, that amount should have lasted the children who had awakened their spiritual power at least half a month, so how was it gone in just one day?

Unbeknownst to Han Shuangyuan, after her departure, the staff at the spiritual power awakening base were utterly baffled.

---

The star 1999 was a minor planet barely worthy of mention in the empire, yet its bustling prosperity far surpassed the most developed international cities Han Shuangyuan had seen in her previous life. Everywhere she looked stood magnificent interstellar buildings made of unknown luminous materials, their radiant glow dwarfing the people, who seemed no larger than ants.

Several hundred meters from the base, Han Shuangyuan still savored the taste of the nutritional fluid.

“No wonder it’s the official imperial ration—truly delicious.”

Nutritional fluids varied in quality. The empire’s official formula was a high-grade variant, costly on the market and unaffordable for many. Han Shuangyuan often subsisted on cheap versions sold on the black market, filled with carbohydrates and cloyingly sweet, nowhere near as pleasant as today’s free treat.

“Eighteen kilometers from home... I won’t take the star rail, will save some money by running back.”

Having drunk a full bucket of premium nutritional fluid, she felt refreshed, alert, and energized.

The sensation was hard to describe, like enjoying some fries at the docks. Since being reborn as a child, Han Shuangyuan hadn’t felt this light and spirited enough to jump three feet in the air.

After crouching to tie her shoelaces, she began running steadily along the sidewalk.

Han Shuangyuan deliberately kept her pace slightly fast.

She had heard that elite military academy students warmed up by running ten kilometers daily. With her unfulfilled martial arts ambitions from her past life, she naturally refused to be outdone. She set her daily training volume at several times that of her peers, aiming to match those academy students ten years her senior.

“Haah...”

After eight kilometers, Han Shuangyuan uttered a surprised sound.

Her pace was brisk; normally at this distance she’d begin to feel strained. But today, not only did she not tire, she felt as at ease as drinking water, with energy to spare.

Encouraged, she tried to speed up.

Once she accelerated, she found it hard to control herself and broke into a full sprint.

“That girl runs so fast,” an elderly man walking nearby clicked his tongue in admiration. “In a flash, she was out of sight.”

Maintaining her high speed, it wasn’t long before Han Shuangyuan spotted her home.

Tall buildings rose there.

To her, these were the familiar high-rise apartments she had lived in before. But to interstellar inhabitants, with vast land resources and the wealth to buy and sell planets, these cramped high-rises were synonymous with slums, designated by the empire as subsidized housing only chosen by those struggling to survive.

No matter what others thought, Han Shuangyuan was quite content with her current residence.

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Spacious, free, with elevators—what more could she ask for?

“Ten kilometers in less than half an hour, and I don’t feel tired at all. Awakening spiritual power mimicry really boosts one’s physique far beyond expectations. This trip was worth it.”

The surge in strength lifted Han Shuangyuan’s spirits.

She dashed home in three strides, cheerfully opening the door. “Dad, I’m back!”

Hearing the door, a man crouched at the table rose, waving his practice notebook excitedly, making incoherent sounds that nonetheless conveyed happiness.

“Did you finish the handwriting practice I assigned this morning?”

The man nodded, showing the notebook filled with dense, carefully written characters. Though uneven, the earnestness of the writer was unmistakable.

Han Shuangyuan gave a thumbs-up and carefully placed a one-star coin into his hand. “Dad, you’re awesome! This is a reward!”

In her past life, she had been an orphan, fatherless and motherless. Unexpectedly, in this life after transmigration, she had real blood relatives—a bittersweet blessing.

When she first transmigrated, she was an infant with weak health, her memories before age two a blur. Once able to walk and speak, she realized the only family member she had was not only amnesic but mentally impaired, unable to form complete sentences or engage in complex communication.

Sometimes, looking back on those fragmented early memories, she couldn’t help but feel moved.

Before age two, her father always took care of her, anxiously gesturing to others, clumsily choosing milk powder, changing diapers. Rising early and working late at nearby factories for low-paying physical labor, he endured hardship to raise her bit by bit.

Though a simple man unable to summon spiritual mimicry, her father possessed extraordinary strength—capable of delivering punches near ten thousand kilograms in force. When she was two, a black-market underground fight club manager noticed him and recruited him as a professional fighter.

Life improved after her father began working at the fight club, moving from a dilapidated shack to a resettlement community. But the good times were short-lived. Ordinary people couldn’t match his brute strength and often suffered serious injuries or refused to fight him. The unscrupulous manager then matched him against gifted fighters.

How could an ordinary man win against a gifted adversary?

During that time, the most vivid memory Han Shuangyuan had was her father’s growing number of wounds.

When she grew a bit older, she went to the underground fight club and negotiated with the manager.

“I’m younger than Dad and know some ancient martial arts techniques. Shouldn’t I be more promising?”

She had watched her father’s fights—pure brute force without technique. After a few matches, she understood him well and believed she could do better. A violent little girl with rare ancient martial arts was a novelty worth investing in.

As expected, the greedy manager agreed readily after weighing the pros and cons.

Thus, Han Shuangyuan successfully replaced her father’s position and became the family’s pillar.

Last year, she used her savings to take her father to see a doctor.

The doctor said her father had suffered serious head trauma. Surviving was a miracle; his mental impairment and amnesia were aftereffects. By comparison, the nearly disfiguring scar on his face was insignificant.

Though it was the interstellar age, the technology level was not as fantastical as in sci-fi dramas from her previous life.

Physical injuries could be treated by gifted healers in auxiliary specialties, but permanent brain damage was mostly incurable.

The only hope was the legendary Black Gold Medical Pod, but such devices only existed on the imperial capital star and the federation’s main planet, and operating one was exorbitantly expensive.

“Is there really no solution?” Han Shuangyuan asked desperately.

“Not entirely,” the doctor mused. “If a high-ranking healer—like a cardinal-level figure from the Order of Light—were willing to intervene, several advanced healing skills might help.”

Han Shuangyuan was speechless.

The Order of Light was one of the galaxy’s top powers; there were fewer than a hundred cardinals, all formidable figures.

This condition was as difficult to meet as using the Black Gold Medical Pod.

So she resorted to the most primitive method: using herbal remedies purchased with her savings.

Ancient remedies still worked in the interstellar era. After a year of persistence, her father began to sporadically utter complete sentences and started learning to write—a promising outcome.

“Dad, it’s time for your medicine.”

Watching her dear father carefully pocket the star coin, Han Shuangyuan fetched the morning’s brewed medicine from the warming box. After ensuring he finished it, she returned to her room, sitting cross-legged on the bed to study her newly acquired abilities.

“All right, now to study my new superpower.”

Given her family’s financial situation, she certainly couldn’t afford a light-brain device.

Fortunately, the spiritual power awakening base staff had given her a simple paper booklet containing basic knowledge.

Following the instructions, she sat cross-legged and summoned her mimicry.

After a moment, pale blue spiritual ripples emerged, and a red-and-white koi fish gracefully swam out of the void, landing lightly in her palm.

Upon closer inspection, Han Shuangyuan sensed something amiss.

“Huh? Why does it look bigger?”

She recalled that when she first awakened a few hours ago, her mimicry was only palm-sized. But now it had grown to about the length of her forearm, with increased width.

The booklet did mention that mimicry would increase in size and weight through prolonged cultivation or rank advancement.

But she had only awakened hours ago; this didn’t fit the conditions.

“Did I misremember?” Han Shuangyuan wondered, scratching her golden hair.

After all, she had been rushed earlier, distracted by chatting with staff. It was normal to have overlooked details.

Maybe the koi was just naturally this big?

She didn’t dwell on it and put the matter aside, starting to study the meditation method recorded in the booklet.

Interstellar society classified gifted individuals from rank zero to nine, each rank subdivided into low, medium, high, and peak levels.

The higher the rank, the stronger the combat power. Rank nine was known as the Saint rank—the strongest known combat power in the galaxy. The appearance of even one would attract attention across all stars.

When the federation and empire once went to war, the true contest was the number of Saint ranks each side possessed. Saints served as a deterrent akin to nuclear weapons, only used as a last resort.

Of course, none of this concerned Han Shuangyuan.

Newly awakened beginners were all rank zero low-level. To improve, they had to train their spiritual power diligently. Meditation was the simplest and most accessible method.

“Hold breath, calm heart, focus mind, embrace unity, concentrate energy.”

Perhaps because she had been a martial arts professional in her past life with experience in yoga and meditation, Han Shuangyuan succeeded in entering a trance state on her very first attempt.

If anyone had seen this, their eyes would surely have dropped out.

Meditation was not easy. New awakened gifted ones usually needed half a month to a month to reach the initial threshold.

Moreover, this was happening to a D-class gifted individual.

In truth, she hadn’t taken the staff’s warnings seriously.

Talent was important, but having lived a previous life, Han Shuangyuan knew it wasn’t everything. Having reached the pinnacle of martial arts before, she would never waver for mere talent alone.

“Phew—”

After some unknown time, she awoke deeply from meditation, exhaling deeply.

She felt every pore refreshed and filled with power. Checking the time, she realized the entire afternoon had quietly passed; it was now dusk.

“Spiritual power cultivation is truly profound.”

Since awakening her mimicry, Han Shuangyuan not only felt stronger but also experienced vastly improved training efficiency. She could confidently say that just one afternoon of meditation surpassed three days of heavy training from before, greatly maximizing her time.

This method also fascinated her, given her previous reliance on physical training to boost strength.

As her owner awoke, the koi floated back into the air.

Han Shuangyuan gently stroked its body, musing to herself: “Let’s work hard together. Once we reach first rank, we can upgrade to a gifted fighter at the fight club and earn more star coins.”

Back in the washroom, she had decided to register the koi as her official mimicry at the awakening base. She had no intention of exposing the other unknown small black bird form.

Han Shuangyuan was only nine years old, with a rudimentary understanding of this interstellar world and completely in the dark about her awakening anomaly. She could explore these mysteries later.

For now, the most urgent matter was the family’s precarious financial situation.

Gifted fighter salaries started at three times those of ordinary fighters. She had long coveted this.

Only first-rank gifted individuals could apply to become gifted fighters.

With this goal in mind, Han Shuangyuan took a long leave, stayed home for a full half month without working at the fight club, and meditated daily.

Thanks to her relentless effort, half a month later she advanced to mid-level rank zero.

“Only one minor rank increase after half a month of training? Seems slow.”

Without a teacher’s guidance or peers for reference, Han Shuangyuan was unaware that her progress was unprecedentedly fast; she only felt it wasn’t enough.

“It gets harder to improve the higher you go. At this rate, I’ll need at least two more months to break into first rank.” She frowned. “Two months without work—can the family even afford to put food on the table?”

The economic pressure weighed heavily on her, making her increasingly anxious.

“No, it must be because I’m not working hard enough. I need to find a way to use meditation to replace sleep and make full use of eight hours’ rest.”

In terms of competition, no one could outwork someone who had endured nine years of compulsory education like her. Especially with only a D-class mimicry, she must be the early bird. Han Shuangyuan resolved to unleash the all-nighter stamina she once had for the college entrance exam — and began her studies immediately.

With day and night training, time flew by.

But just as she successfully reached high-level rank zero and prepared to push onward, disaster struck.

---

Under the moonlit starry sky, in the deep quiet of night, when people were lost in sweet dreams, Han Shuangyuan clutched her stomach and painfully rose from bed.

For some unknown reason, she suddenly felt ravenous—so hungry her head spun.

“What’s going on? Why am I so hungry all of a sudden? I clearly drank nutritional fluid last night...”

Luckily, a batch of cheap nutritional fluids had been purchased recently.

Trembling, Han Shuangyuan grabbed two from the shelf, bit open the seals, and swallowed them.

Immediately, an overwhelmingly sweet flavor engulfed her senses.

At times like this, she couldn’t help but yearn for the rich taste of the empire’s free premium nutritional fluid.

After drinking five in a row, Han Shuangyuan realized something was wrong.

She was only nine; her appetite was small. Usually, one dose was enough to satisfy a meal.

But today, the usual amount was like water poured into the sand—completely ineffective, her stomach still painfully empty.

With no choice, she reached for the rest of the stock.

After finishing the remaining thirty cheap nutritional fluids at home, Han Shuangyuan finally escaped the agony of stomach cramps, entering a state that was not full but barely bearable.

She glanced at the empty storage box and the depleted vials with a blank expression.

“Do I really eat this much?”

What Han Shuangyuan never expected was that this was only the beginning.