Mo Chen stood still for a few seconds, his spear slightly raised, eyes locked onto the shriveled figure.
After confirming that nothing was about to lunge at him, he slowly lowered the spear.
"Interesting… there are actually humanoid creatures in this place. But what killed this guy?"
He stepped closer.
The corpse was human—or at least, it had been. The skin had tightened over bone, giving it a dry, mummified appearance. Its lips had receded, exposing teeth in a permanent, silent grin. One arm was missing from the elbow down, the stump jagged, as if torn rather than cut.
Mo Chen crouched beside it.
"Cause of death… unclear. Could be starvation. Could be blood loss. Could be something more interesting."
He tilted his head slightly.
"No visible struggle… no defensive wounds… curious."
His hand moved without hesitation, beginning to search the body.
His fingers brushed against something cold.
A pendant.
He pulled it free—a jade piece, smooth, faintly green even in the dim cave light.
Mo Chen stared at it for a moment.
"…Fancy."
In his entire life, he had rarely seen anyone wearing precious gems. Even Dr. Ling only wore simple silver earrings.
"This will probably fetch quite the price on the black market."
He pocketed it without further thought.
As he continued searching the corpse, his eyes fell on its hands.
On one finger rested a ring—dark, metallic, simple in design. No engravings. No shine typical of precious metals.
"Disappointing," he said. "I was hoping for glowing runes or something cliché."
Still, he took it.
Then he moved to the torso.
The clothing was in poor condition, but salvageable. Beneath the outer layer, tucked close to the body, he found something.
Mo Chen raised an eyebrow.
"Well now… that's new."
In his hands were four ancient-looking books—objects so valuable in his previous world that even the city lord owned only a few.
He opened the first one.
Symbols stared back at him—complex, flowing characters that meant absolutely nothing, despite the ten languages he knew.
He flipped through the pages.
Same result.
Second book—same.
Third—same.
"Incomprehensible language," he concluded flatly. "Either I've been properly isekai'd, or someone is playing a very committed joke."
He paused.
"…I should probably consider the possibility that I've gone insane."
The thought lingered longer than usual.
Then he shrugged.
"Not much changes either way."
He reached for the last item.
Mo Chen blinked.
"…Empty?"
He flipped through it.
"Ah. Perfect," he said dryly. "A diary for my descent into madness."
He tucked it away.
After finishing his search, Mo Chen looked down at the corpse again.
"…You won't be needing these."
Without ceremony, he began removing the clothing.
A few minutes later, Mo Chen sat near the cave wall, now wearing the dead man's clothes.
They were loose, slightly worn, but far more comfortable than his crude fiber outfit. The fabric felt strange—smoother, yet sturdier than anything he had ever crafted… or even worn.
He glanced at his old clothes.
Then, without hesitation, he tossed them—along with the corpse—into a small fire near the cave entrance.
They burned quickly.
"Hunting is no longer an option," he said, wincing slightly.
Every movement reminded him of that fact.
His side throbbed where the beast had clawed him. His legs felt heavy, his body sluggish. Even lifting his spear carried a faint delay, as if his nerves were slightly out of sync.
"Conclusion," he said aloud, stirring a crude mixture of water, jerky, tuber, and salt in a makeshift container on top of the burning campfire,
"I am currently a cripple."
He sighed pitifully, then looked down at his creation.
It smelled… edible.
After contemplating suicide for a couple of minutes, he finally picked up a wooden bowl, filled it, and drank it in one gulp.
The warmth spread through his body, dulling the pain slightly.
Time passed.
He did not know how much.
There was no sun in the cave, no clear sense of day or night—only the slow fading and returning of his energy.
The first few cycles—what he assumed were days—were tolerable. He slept, woke up, ate, then slept again.
Each day, the "contraptions" inside his body from his previous world repaired him faster than normal. After all, he had paid an absurd amount for those nanomachines.
Then… he started noticing changes.
His wounds were healing faster.
Moreover, he did not feel as hungry… nor as thirsty as he should have.
He attributed it to his already enhanced physique after weeks of wilderness and ignored it.
More time passed.
Yet despite the accelerated healing, his injuries had not fully recovered.
So he remained seated in the cave.
Eventually… he noticed something else.
A strange phenomenon.
At first, it was just a flicker—multicolored light appearing every time he woke up, only to vanish the moment he focused on it.
At first, he dismissed it as hallucination—caused by isolation, malnutrition, and stress.
Then he remembered.
"That forest produced illusions that were not part of my own mind…" he muttered.
He leaned back slightly, thinking.
"If those voices lessened when I damaged my hearing, then the phenomenon was external… not internal."
His eyes narrowed.
"That means either a substance affecting perception… or something more… unusual."
He thought deeply.
"Perhaps I was transported to another plane of existence? Impossible. The ancient texts state such transitions only occur after death… yet I have not died."
He paused.
"…Unless I did."
Silence filled the cave.
Then he shook his head.
"Or the City of Dreams was destroyed, and I was somehow… reincarnated."
Another pause.
"Since I lose nothing either way… I will treat this as a magical world."
With that conclusion, he followed one of the many fictional methods used to sense surrounding energy.
He sat cross-legged.
And began to meditate.
Time passed.
At some point, his breathing slowed.
His thoughts… thinned.
Two hours later.
His eyes opened.
His pupils were completely contracted.
Drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.
He did not notice.
For in front of him stood as a spectrum of multicolored particles, stretching as far as he could see.
"This…"
A slow grin spread across his face.
"…is very interesting."