Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Meditation

The next morning, Ling Mo was jolted awake right on time by her 6 a.m. alarm. She brushed her teeth, washed up, ate breakfast, filled the swimming pool to the brim, then swapped in a fresh pool and started collecting water again.

Then she began another day of studying.

After realizing the learning machine wasn’t only for language lessons, she started searching for information on the mental power talent.

The screen flickered, then displayed an introduction.

Mental power was divided into seven levels. The higher the level, the harder it became to train—difficulty multiplied. At the later stages, those who awakened mental power were almost invincible, capable of killing without leaving a trace.

Mental power awakeners were natural commanders and scouts. Under their coverage, anyone inside the range couldn’t hide even the smallest movement.

Unless you could escape the area of coverage.

When Ling Mo read that sixth level mental power could cover an entire planet, her jaw dropped.

That was only sixth level. What would seventh level look like?

Her current range was about five meters in radius. By interstellar standards, she was still at mental power level 1—barely at the beginner stage.

She let out a slow breath. She’d been feeling proud of her progress. Turns out she’d celebrated too early.

She searched for the fastest ways to improve mental power, and the learning machine quickly offered three methods.

The first method was combat: constant fighting, constant danger, breaking through in life-and-death situations.

It was widely recognized across interstellar society as the fastest method—not just for mental power users, but for anyone who had awakened a talent.

The second method was meditation. Safe, but slow.

And it required an empty mind: no distractions, no stray thoughts, absolute focus. It demanded incredible concentration.

The third method was finding a mineral called mindstone. Absorbing it could boost mental power dramatically—fast and safe.

Ling Mo’s eyes lit up—until she saw the fine print at the bottom.

The excitement died on the spot. Whatever mindstone was, it clearly wasn’t something she could get her hands on right now.

Her breathing tightened. She looked back at the second method. Meditation was basically cultivation training from xianxia novels. The first method was like going on trials.

For now, she abandoned the first method. She was still too weak—calling it a “trial” would be generous; it would be suicide. As for mindstone, she couldn’t afford it anyway.

That left only the second method: meditation.

She added it to her daily schedule, placing it at night.

Nights were cooler. Without the daytime heat, it was easier to focus her mental power.

The learning machine even provided a meditation manual.

Ling Mo suspected it was a standardized method used across interstellar society, like a common textbook. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so easy to find.

Over the next few days, her life settled into a strict routine.

She woke at six, washed up, ate breakfast, and began studying interstellar language at six-thirty. She ate lunch at noon, replaced her usual one-hour nap with meditation, then started physical training at one.

In the afternoon, when the temperature finally began to drop, she went out to buy supplies. She still had money, and leaving it unused felt wasteful.

After returning, she ate while keeping up with the latest news, then meditated again.

When she managed to expand her mental power radius to eight meters, she also figured out a simple trick to using it.

Ten words, straight to the point: “Stay calm, don’t move—let mental power do the work.”

During this period, a batch of crops in her pocket space ripened. Ling Mo harvested everything into her granary, then planted a new round.

The weak calves, lambs, and foals she’d collected from liang chen ranch also recovered noticeably after a few days of care.

They still weren’t anywhere near as sturdy as their brothers and sisters, but at least they could eat again and weren’t on the verge of death.

The machines she’d listed sold out too, bringing her two hundred gold coins.

Seeing how popular they were, she stocked another batch. She couldn’t use them, and keeping them only took up room in her pocket space. She might as well sell them all.

She opened the System mall. With two hundred gold coins in hand, she spent a hundred to buy ten bottles of D-grade mental soothing solution for emergencies.

With the remaining hundred, she browsed until two items caught her eye.

marrow-cleansing fruit sapling: long-term consumption of its fruit could improve physical constitution.

medicine fruit sapling: the fruit restored stamina and claimed benefits like resisting aging, brightening skin, weight loss, and long-term disease prevention.

There were many other trees too—healing fruit, medic fruit, antidote fruit—each with its own miraculous effects.

Yet among the System mall’s inventory, these fruit trees were considered cheap.

Only because they were notoriously difficult to grow. Their environmental requirements were brutal: even a trace of pollution could kill them on the spot.

Ling Mo even searched them up on the learning machine. Sure enough, their survival rate was low even in interstellar society. And even if one survived, it tended to be sickly—forget about bearing fruit.

On Blue Star, growing them would be impossible.

But Ling Mo had a pocket space.

The environment inside was perfectly suited for them.

After she purchased them, two visibly malnourished saplings appeared in her hands.

She didn’t waste a second. She stored them in her pocket space, chose a prime spot, planted them carefully, and watered them thoroughly. After all that work, she could clearly feel the saplings stabilize, looking better than they had in her hands.

As more and more players woke up and awakened talents, posts about the game flooded the internet.

That was when Ling Mo learned something new: not everyone’s first game had been liang chen ranch.

Some people had been sent to a daycare, tasked with watching kids.

Reading the posts—people complaining about how impossible the kids were—Ling Mo couldn’t help feeling grateful she’d landed at a ranch instead.

Babies were adorable. As long as they didn’t cry.