3 03

Although the cheap nutrient solution on the black market was diluted with carbohydrates and lacked sufficient nutritional concentration, it was more than enough to fill the stomach.

Yuan Hanshuang’s usual daily intake was four vials, only increasing by one when she was growing or building muscle.

Recalling her binge-drinking at the psychic power base, she belatedly realized something was amiss.

No ordinary person could possibly consume thirty vials of nutrient solution at once, even if it were a minor symptom following a psychic awakening.

So, the next day, Yuan Hanshuang went to the underground clinic.

The doctor there was the same one who treated her father. His psychic mimicry was a woodpecker, and those gifted with this mimicry naturally had a distinct advantage in medicine.

Once the patient stood steadily, the small woodpecker spread its wings and activated its diagnostic skill.

A pale green scanning halo appeared out of thin air, slowly descending over the blonde girl’s head, circling her body, then dissipating into the air.

Simultaneously, the patient’s physical condition was honestly relayed back to the doctor through the mimicry.

The doctor frowned in puzzlement: “What ailment do you want me to check? Your body is very healthy.”

Yuan Hanshuang exclaimed in disbelief, “I’ve been feeling hungry for no reason these past two days. Last night, I drank thirty vials of nutrient solution. Would a normal person do that?”

That was indeed abnormal.

The doctor stubbornly had the woodpecker scan again, but the results remained the same.

“Your body really has no issues.”

He put down his pen and closed the blank medical chart. “Don’t be fooled just because this is a black clinic. I’m still a gifted individual. If there was a problem with your body, the mimicry would detect it. Otherwise, I’d be out of business.”

“Have you had repeated abnormalities these past few months?”

“Yes,” Yuan Hanshuang replied. “On the day I awoke my mimicry, I also ate a lot at once.”

But at that time, her mind was full of making money, so she never considered this.

The doctor pondered: “Since the problem started after your awakening, the root cause likely lies in your mimicry.”

“Excluding bloodline factors, mimicry is the manifestation of human personality and subconscious. Some gifted individuals develop unusual habits after awakening certain mimicries. For instance, those with rabbit mimicry tend to buy carrot-flavored nutrient solutions; those with spider mimicry often develop a strong interest in insects; those with dung beetle mimicry… well, perhaps I shouldn’t use that example.”

Noticing it was near mealtime, the doctor deliberately changed the subject to avoid ruining his appetite. “I’m just offering a line of thought you can explore.”

“But your symptoms remind me of a specific condition.”

In fact, the doctor already had a preliminary diagnosis for the blonde girl’s condition.

He suspected a rare illness called Mimicry Deficiency.

This condition usually arises from awakening an overwhelmingly powerful mimicry. The human body struggles to bear such immense mimicry, resulting in lifelong defects with no cure.

The most famous case was the sacred child at the Light Sanctuary who awakened a mythic mimicry.

But this D-class child clearly didn’t meet the criteria for mimicry deficiency.

Though this was a black clinic, the doctor’s conscience in the white coat forbade him from making rash conclusions without confirmation.

“Of course, this is just speculation and not reliable.”

He comforted her: “Since no problem was detected, it might be a temporary condition. Go home, rest well, observe over time. If issues persist, we’ll find a solution.”

Yuan Hanshuang left the clinic, burdened with worries.

For some reason, she felt the doctor might have stumbled upon the truth by accident.

Although her two mimicries looked normal when separated, having a dual-nature mimicry was itself unusual—some side effects were to be expected.

Without resolving or pinpointing the cause, she could only go to the convenience store and shell out money to buy another hundred vials of nutrient solution for home.

Yet, this batch of a hundred vials was merely a stopgap.

That very night, she consumed thirty of them; the next morning, thirty more for breakfast, the same for lunch, and held the remaining ten at dinner—starving to the point her chest pressed against her back.

The hundred vials didn’t even last until the third day!

Yuan Hanshuang was stunned.

At this rate, she might need up to ninety vials a day.

Reluctantly, she splurged at an official nutrient solution store on premium-grade nutrient solutions. After all, ordinary interstellar people only needed one to two meals daily; only someone like her, using cheap nutrient solutions, required multiple doses.

As she paid, her hands trembled slightly, her heart bleeding.

“I hope this batch of premium nutrient solutions will work.”

Indeed, they helped.

Previously, consuming ninety cheap vials per day was replaced by just ten premium vials daily. It seemed more economical, but since one premium vial cost ten times a cheap one, in star credits, she hadn’t saved much.

More absurdly, even drinking ten premium vials daily, she was still hungry.

The difference was that she only felt dizzy and faint, which was somewhat bearable.

“No, I cannot surrender to hunger.”

That night, before dawn, she awoke starving.

Staring at the ceiling, she finally exploded in silence: “If hunger leads only to thoughts of eating, what’s the difference between humans and beasts?!”

“Rise up, those unwilling to be slaves!”

She found a strip of cloth and tightly bound her stomach three times, trying to compress it.

The old painful remedy passed down from ancestors truly worked; after binding, she felt her hunger lessen somewhat.

It’s known that humans don’t die from a day without food.

Determined, she resolved to fast for a day and see what happened.

At noon, she was distracted and daydreaming, her meditation efficiency greatly reduced.

By evening, her vision began to darken.

Under such conditions, she couldn’t focus on cultivation.

Reluctantly, she pulled the blanket over and tried to sleep, but hunger made it hard to fall asleep. So she punched herself in the head, knocking herself out.

She had a sweet dream.

In the dream, white clouds floated in the sky. Yuan Hanshuang flew in the air, reaching out to pluck them. The clouds were soft cotton candy; she eagerly bit into them, eating up the entire sky.

The next day, staring at the wet blanket marked with her teeth, she fell into silence.

Since crossing over, life had been simple; in the first two years, she could save some money.

But after buying herbal medicine to treat her father, income became insufficient, forcing her to cut expenses.

She spent time sparring at the fight gym and occasionally took odd jobs elsewhere.

In the interstellar era, manpower had limited impact, especially for a nine-year-old girl like her. Converted to monthly income, working dawn to dusk only earned about two thousand star credits—barely enough for basic subsistence after expenses.

Training intensity was high, and Yuan Hanshuang was in a growth spurt, doubling her appetite. Her father, an adult male, also ate a lot. Two mouths to feed meant a heavy burden.

Now her intake was growing exponentially. With no immediate way to contribute financially, the small savings were nearly depleted in days.

Most importantly, despite eating so much, her height hadn’t changed an inch.

—Ah! This life was unbearable!

“No, I have to find another way. I can’t let my family, already poor, suffer further.”

Yuan Hanshuang stared at the sparse balance on her crystal card, her heart heavy with gloom.

As a determined adult with dreams, she knew the importance of adaptability.

Her mind was especially clear in extreme hunger. If she didn’t understand her own body’s condition, she would be unworthy of the title Martial Arts Master.

After two days of observation, she discovered she could only cultivate effectively when not too hungry.

When hungry, cultivation crawled at a snail’s pace. When extremely hungry, meditation was impossible, and efficiency plummeted.

During these hungry days, her cultivation speed sharply declined.

She was sure this inexplicable hunger was linked to her awakened mimicry, but was powerless.

“If I do nothing, before my balance runs out, I won’t reach the first level. Without reaching first level and becoming a gifted fighter, even working part-time at the fight gym won’t earn enough to feed myself. This will only spiral into a vicious cycle.”

Embarrassingly, based on her previous binge at the psychic base, with her current funds, she couldn’t even afford a single full meal.

She needed to figure out a way to scrounge meals.

Rubbing her empty stomach, she sighed, “I wonder if there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet in the interstellar era...”

Nursing this humble hope, she stepped outside.

Since crossing over, she had struggled just to get by, and having long passed the age of curiosity, she preferred training over shopping and seldom visited the city center.

Worse, for the highly productive interstellar citizens, food was no longer a concern. All-you-can-eat buffets existed but were exorbitantly expensive, typically only found in central star systems.

Helpless, Yuan Hanshuang turned back, pondering other options.

Rounding a corner, she saw a fleet of hovercars slowly rising along light tracks.

At the end stood a gifted beginners’ academy. Students her age or slightly older gathered in small groups at the gate, bidding farewell after school.

These interstellar children were well-nourished, rosy-cheeked, dressed neatly in uniform, their faces radiating youth and innocence.

Many passersby looked on with envy.

Only gifted individuals whose mimicry levels were evaluated could enter the beginner’s academy. For ordinary families on remote planets, having even one child admitted was the family’s hope.

Among the crowd, a well-dressed young master complained repeatedly, “Finally out of school, so tired.”

He handed his space buckle to the butler by the hovercar and stretched, “Hate this boarding school, going home once a week. When can I graduate to the intermediate academy?”

Yuan Hanshuang casually glanced and recognized the boy as the young master she once briefly met at the psychic awakening base.

A peer nearby chimed in, “Yeah, the nutrient solution at the academy tastes awful. I can’t wait to get home and have the robot cook me a proper meal. Free meals never have good food.”

“Your family has robots cooking?” the young master sneered sideways at him. “We have chefs cooking for us. Every meal made with fresh ingredients shipped by spaceship from neighboring breeding planets. Robots can’t make real delicious dishes.”

The embarrassed boy blushed, meekly admitting it was so.

Chefs were a rare and highly paid profession in the interstellar age.

This childish banter caught someone else’s attention, but their focus was entirely elsewhere.

What? Free meals?

The beginner’s academy provided meals?!

Yuan Hanshuang’s eyes lit up instantly.

Such a good deal existed in the world? Then she was coming for sure!