"So that was it..." Wang Qi quickly understood. "These insects simply can't completely refine immortal power. So although their mana bears their own characteristics, it still retains traces of that dead immortal's residual traits."
It was like taking the same piece of music, changing a few notes, repeating a section several times, or speeding up and slowing down the rhythm—none of those changes counted as "composing a new piece."
They were merely "variations" of the same piece.
And on this planet, the mana of every insect was a "variation" of that immortal.
In other words, with the right techniques, this operation could be carried out.
Because in every one of them, the "commonality" of their mana outweighed its "individuality."
With only one or two individuals, the differences between their mana could still be distinguished.
But when numerous streams of mana converged, the small differences in "individuality" would be buried, while the effect of their "commonality" would be magnified.
It was like... in a photograph packed full of people, you might not easily find one particular face—even if you knew that person well.
"So under certain conditions, these flesh insects really can do this..." Wang Qi marveled. "Because of their environment, their cultivation methods are already quite impressive in terms of the 'quantity' of mana. Gathering the strength of the masses like this... while it may be difficult to reach the level of a true immortal, it still isn't something Mahayana can compare to."
The instant a Mahayana cultivator ascended to immortality, many "qualitative transformations" occurred, and their strength underwent a massive leap.
Thus, in the eyes of ordinary immortals, a collective like this still amounted to nothing.
But this planet had been contaminated by immortal power. Every individual was interfered with. At the beginning of cultivation, they could indeed advance