The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Han Ye sat outside their wooden hut, sharpening an old hunting knife with slow, practiced movements. His hands moved on instinct, but his mind was elsewhere.

  It had been fifteen years since he was reborn into this world.

  Fifteen years since Arden Gale, a mechanical engineer who died from overwork, had become Han Ye, the youngest son of the Han cn—a lineage of skilled hunters who had thrived in the wilderness for generations.

  Yet, despite the years, he could never truly forget.

  The knowledge of his past life still lingered in his mind, a constant whisper reminding him of the vast difference between the two worlds. He had spent his early years observing, learning, adapting. The people here were strong, resilient, and deeply rooted in tradition. Their way of life was simple but efficient, honed over centuries of survival in the wild.

  But there was something else—Qi.

  The first time he had heard about it, he had nearly ughed. He had read about it in countless novels, seen it in manhua and anime. But to experience it in reality? That was something else entirely.

  From what he had gathered, cultivators harnessed Qi to enhance their bodies, extend their lifespans, and perform feats that defied logic. Some could run on water, split mountains with a single strike, or command the elements. It was, in essence, power beyond human limits.

  And yet…

  As fascinating as it was, the way they cultivated felt inefficient.

  The people of this world spoke of Qi as though it were some mystical force, something to be gathered through sheer willpower and meditation alone. There was no science behind their methods—just tradition passed down through the ages.

  They don’t even understand the fundamentals of energy accumution.

  Han Ye had long since theorized that Qi was a form of energy that obeyed some kind of w—perhaps something akin to electromagnetism or kinetic force in his previous world. But these people merely followed outdated techniques, assuming they were the only way to cultivate.

  If I had the chance… I could optimize it.

  Before he could dwell on the thought further, a voice interrupted him.

  "Han Ye! Stop daydreaming and get ready. We’re going hunting."

  He turned to see his older brother, Han Liang, standing by the doorway, bow in hand. Han Liang was broad-shouldered, with a sharp gaze that missed nothing. At twenty-five, he was already one of the best hunters in the cn, respected for both his skill and his leadership.

  Han Ye sheathed his knife and stood up, grabbing his own bow—a finely crafted piece he had made himself. Unlike the traditional bows used by the cn, his had a compound mechanism, allowing for better tension and accuracy.

  "Alright," Han Ye said, slinging the bow over his shoulder. "Let’s go."

  They moved swiftly through the dense forest, their steps silent, their breathing controlled. Hunting was an art that required patience, precision, and most importantly, an understanding of one's surroundings.

  For Han Ye, it was second nature.

  His past self had never been a hunter, but his love for archery had given him an advantage. His hands were steady, his eyes sharp, and his instincts honed from years of practice.

  "Remember," Han Liang whispered as they crouched behind thick underbrush. "We take only what we need. No more, no less."

  Han Ye nodded. That was the unspoken rule of their cn—respect the hunt, respect the bance of nature.

  A few meters ahead, a wild boar foraged near a fallen tree. It was massive, its tusks gleaming in the morning light. A single well-pced arrow would be enough to take it down.

  Han Liang motioned for Han Ye to take the shot.

  Without hesitation, Han Ye drew his bow. His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steady.

  One breath in.One breath out.

  He released.

  The arrow whistled through the air, striking the boar cleanly in the neck. The beast let out a choked grunt before colpsing. A clean kill.

  Han Liang cpped his younger brother on the shoulder, a rare smile on his usually stoic face. "Good shot. You’re improving."

  Han Ye merely nodded, his mind elsewhere.

  Because at that moment, something strange had happened.

  When he had drawn his bow, he had felt something stir inside him. A sensation like static electricity, a tingling in his fingertips.

  And when he had released the arrow—

  For just a split second, the world had slowed down.

  His arrow had moved faster than it should have. More precise. More deadly.

  Was it Qi?

  Before he could process it further, Han Liang spoke. "Come. Father wants to see you tonight."

  Han Ye frowned. "Why?"

  Han Liang’s expression turned serious. "It’s time for you to learn how to cultivate."

  The night was still, the moon casting a pale glow over the clearing. Han Ye sat cross-legged before his father, Han Zhe, a man whose presence alone commanded respect.

  Before them, a small candle flickered, its fme steady.

  Han Zhe’s voice was calm but firm. "Close your eyes. Breathe in. Feel the energy around you. Let it enter your body, let it flow."

  Han Ye did as instructed, but inwardly, he felt skeptical.

  This was the standard technique. He had read about it in every Xianxia novel—sit, meditate, imagine Qi entering your body, and hope for the best.

  This can’t be the most efficient way.

  As he sat there, feeling the stillness around him, he began to analyze the process.

  If Qi was a form of energy, then it had to follow scientific principles. It couldn’t just be about "feeling" it—it had to have a flow, a pattern.

  He thought about the human circutory system—how blood traveled through veins and arteries, how oxygen was absorbed and distributed efficiently. What if Qi worked in a simir way?

  Instead of waiting for Qi to enter his body, what if he could draw it in like a machine pulling air through an intake valve?

  Slowly, he adjusted his breathing. Instead of merely feeling for Qi, he began searching for it, analyzing it like a scientist conducting an experiment.

  And then—

  Something clicked.

  A rush of warmth spread through his chest, tingling through his limbs like an electric current. His senses sharpened, his mind became clear.

  This wasn’t just meditation. This was control.

  Han Zhe’s eyes widened slightly. "You… felt it already?"

  Han Ye opened his eyes, a small smirk forming.

  "Yeah," he said. "But I think I found a better way."