Combination (1)

The Ice Snow Flower was notorious for a terrifying property: if consumed raw, it would freeze the eater solid like a block of ice in a royal seokbinggo.

Worse still, the moment it was moved somewhere else and experienced even the slightest shift in temperature, it melted away like spring snow. Yet if processed and consumed properly, it purportedly granted a formidable resistance against the cold.

I was desperate to consume it by any means necessary. Cold resistance was an overwhelmingly vital perk.

Right now, the winter chill was so biting that multiple layers of thick winter garments could barely stave it off. My clothing provided just enough insulation to keep me from literally freezing to death, nothing more. If I could successfully absorb the Ice Snow Flower, my survival odds would skyrocket.

At the very least, hypothermia will pretty much be off the table.

Even if it merely stopped me from shivering uncontrollably every waking second, it would be more than worth it. Survival in this hellhole was all about stacking small advantages until they forged true resilience.

Starlight Princess seemed lost in thought, leaving the thread quiet for a while. Just as I began to wonder if she had wandered off to attend to other matters, a new reply popped up.

Humanity was truly bizarre. Over millennia, people had wandered the earth putting every conceivable plant, creature, and fungus into their mouths. Even for lethal poisons, they had somehow worked out culinary preparation methods through sheer, bloody trial and error. Discovering how to safely dress pufferfish must have cost countless lives along the way.

The Ice Snow Flower was no different. Starlight Princess had overlooked this detail, but I zeroed right in on it. The flower was notoriously fragile, melting away the second the surrounding temperature shifted, yet ancient records clearly documented its bodily effects and side effects. That meant dwellers of freezing northern wastes had cross-verified its properties through repeated consumption.

Even if nobody documented an extraction apparatus, they definitely found a way to ingest it.

They either extracted the essence using crude, unrecorded tools or consumed it in some naturally refined state. Of course, this was still nothing more than a hypothesis of mine. And as the old saying goes, a man who has read only one book is far more dangerous than a man who has read none.

Now I had to factor in wind directions too? Give me a break.

Thankfully, the local seasons cycled on a weekly basis; if each season dragged on for months, trying to engineer an ancient architectural thermodynamic cooler would have driven me insane. Under these conditions, slapping together a prototype seokbinggo while relying on insulated storage containers for the overflow seemed like the smartest compromise.

Sword Master had previously mentioned he had a crate crafted from premium insulating materials, so I could just take him up on that offer.

Though taking it completely for free feels a bit wrong...

What could I offer in return? To tell the truth, Sword Master was the trickiest person in the Gallery to barter with. Unlike the Heavenly Demon, who beamed with joy regardless of what trinket or root I sent her, Sword Master was notoriously indifferent. He turned down precious herbs on the grounds that he had zero desire to become any stronger, and he barely possessed any appetite for food.

Since the man seemed entirely dedicated to tutoring my martial progress without asking for anything in return, deciding how to repay his kindness always gave me a headache.

Would he like a fine sword?

He didn't just practice swordsmanship; he was practically in love with the craft. It stood to reason he'd appreciate a masterwork blade. While true masters were said to never blame their tools, that didn't mean they were completely indifferent to craftsmanship. If anything, an exquisitely forged weapon might pique his interest.

I can ponder that later. First, I need to wrap my head around this seokbinggo layout.

There was plenty of time to brainstorm, but precious little time to build. The avalanche had wiped out so much of my compound that the list of chores was endless.

Should I build a heavy-duty blast furnace and oven right from the start? Or should I tuck them inside the cave?

Chewing over these dilemmas, I sent a direct message to Sword Master. I proposed to trade a magnificent sword down the road if he could send over that insulated crate right now.

For a grand elder of her stature, she certainly acted childish. Still, at least she hadn't plastered it across the public forum threads. And seeing how she had privately bragged exclusively to Sword Master, it seemed she genuinely considered him a close friend. If Sword Master ever heard me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say that aloud, he would probably recoil in mock horror, but they were birds of a feather.

Calling an extraordinary, peerless weapon a mere parlor ornament was peak Sword Master, but at least he agreed to accept it. Trading a legendary Mythrecon sword for a simple insulated storage box might look like an absurdly lopsided deal on paper, but I didn't care in the slightest. Considering how much invaluable guidance Sword Master had provided me completely free of charge, this was the bare minimum I owed him.

Cheonma might feel sulky if she finds out, so I'd better prepare an extra token for her too.

Keeping that in mind, I inspected the container Sword Master transferred over.

Hailing from a world where plastics were yet unheard of, its exterior resembled a rustic wooden chest. Inside, however, the walls were meticulously lined with slabs of polished marble and layered composites. The dense, multi-tiered insulating barrier looked more than capable of functioning as an elite icebox.

Now all I had to do was pack it with fresh river ice.

Carrying the crate into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shelter, I typed out a quick thank-you to Sword Master.

Looks like the Dwarf put up his post.

Right on cue, Passing Dwarf had published his architectural guide. I tapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠straight into the thread.

People barely brushing the early modern era were mocking me as a prehistoric caveman. Back on Earth, I had basked in the absolute pinnacle of technological civilization, you bastards. If any of you ever saw the apocalyptic flash of a thermonuclear warhead, you'd soil your trousers on the spot.

...Not that having nuclear memories helps me right now.

Since brooding changed nothing, I shut my mouth and prepared to dig. Grabbing a pickaxe and shovel, I headed outside. Considering the time, finishing the whole excavation today was out of the question.

Semi-subterranean layout, right?

Under normal circumstances, wind patterns and soil thermodynamics had to be painstakingly calculated, but this was strictly a prototype to see whether I could preserve summer ice for a month. Keeping the dimensions compact would reduce the manual labor while allowing me to focus on structural integrity.

The permafrost is like granite... This isn't going to be easy.

Simply breaking through the frozen topsoil ate up huge chunks of time. Eventually, I lit a small fire over the work site, letting the heat soften the ground while I focused on other chores.

I dug until roughly four in the afternoon before calling a halt. There was plenty of other work waiting, not least of which was the Ice Snow Flower extraction.

Spend thirty minutes cutting river ice, then get the flower ready.

Carrying the insulated chest, I marched down toward the frozen riverbank. With winter in full swing, animal activity was virtually nonexistent. Barring winter-active predators like direwolves, the risk of an ambush was remarkably low. Still, I kept my senses tuned to the perimeter just to be safe.

Time to saw out some blocks.

Arriving at the frozen river, I purchased a crosscut timber saw from the Auction House. Using a small hand hammer, I cracked an entry hole through the thick crust and inserted the serrated blade.

Scritch! Scritch! Scritch!

The rhythmic grating echoed across the desolate ice sheet as I sawed out precise geometric blocks. The water hadn't frozen entirely to the riverbed; mid-stroke, the saw blade suddenly broke through into open current beneath.

Being careful not to drop the saw into the freezing depths, I cut along the perimeter with steady precision.

"Hup!"

Splaaash!

I hoisted out a massive, crystal-clear rectangular block of river ice. The void left behind instantly swirled with dark, frigid river water.

Craaackle!

Within seconds, that exposed surface water crystallized and froze solid right before my eyes under the horrific chill. Just how frigid was this godforsaken forest?

Heaving the glassy block with all my strength, I lowered it into the insulated crate. Even while cutting it, I had marveled at its density; the thickness was staggering.

Wonder if I could do some ice fishing out here?

A stray, idle thought drifted through my mind, but I brushed it aside. I kept a watchful eye out for any dormant horrors like Golden Frogs while harvesting. Thankfully, whether the frogs had frozen to death or burrowed into deep hibernation, nothing stirred. Winter truly seemed to be the one season where I could breathe a small sigh of relief.

"Brrr... My fingers are stinging."

Even so, the frost was unavoidable. Despite wearing heavy work gloves over the World Tree Silk Gloves, the numbing cold seeped past both layers. Freezing moisture had soaked through the fabric, threatening frostbite if I lingered too long.

I wrapped up the harvest and hurried back to the cavern. Four massive blocks of pristine river ice rested inside the insulated chest. For now, they would stay secured in the crate until the seokbinggo was finished.

Still have plenty of daylight left.

With the ice harvested, only the Ice Snow Flower remained. One might ask why I couldn't just process it inside the cave, but I had already devised a theory of my own.

Namely: the Adult Mandrake Root.

The Adult Mandrake was known to be a supernatural root teeming with potent Yang energy. And Yang energy, as martial theory dictated, was the physical manifestation of heat. If so, what would happen if I boiled the frigid Ice Snow Flower alongside a heat-radiating Adult Mandrake?

Thwack! Smack! Crunch!

"Squeeeek! Gwark! Kweeeeh!"

Naturally, that meant thrashing the Adult Mandrake first. These little terrors only behaved once they were beaten half to death. Carrying the limp, bruised crimson root back inside the cavern, I set up a sturdy cooking pot over the roaring fire pit. The moment the flames flickered to life, I snapped a photo and uploaded a thread to the Gallery.

With blessings from the Gallery's resident alchemical genius and supreme martial sovereign, I harvested the Ice Snow Flower. Fortunately, mere human body heat wasn't enough to trigger an immediate meltdown; the pristine petals remained intact in my grip.

Now toss them in together.

I added a splash of pure melted water to help the herbs simmer down into an alchemical broth. Clamping the heavy iron lid onto the pot, preparation was complete. All that was left was to wait. Naturally, I kept a constant watch to ensure nothing went haywire.

How long would it take for a reaction to occur? I fed another dry log into the fire pit. While I wanted to attend to other camp chores, I couldn't risk leaving an unpredictable alchemical reaction unattended. So I sat in silence, staring blankly into the flickering embers.

Clatter!

Without warning, the iron lid rattled violently.

—SKREEEEEEEEEECH!!!

A bloodcurdling shriek ripped from inside the iron pot.

Had the Mandrake regained consciousness mid-brew? That was a disaster.

Do I have to beat it unconscious again?

I slammed both hands onto the lid, putting all my weight into pinning it down before the root could force its way out. If that lid flew off, an ear-splitting psychic shriek would bounce off the cavern walls and deafen me. Leaning hard against the lid, I frantically opened the Gallery interface with one hand.

Armed with expert advice, I drew a deep breath and prepared my strike. Timing had to be immaculate. The root didn't scream nonstop; it let out earsplitting shrieks at ragged intervals before pausing to draw breath. I had to rip off the lid during the lull.

—SKREEEEEEEEEEK!

The shriek peaked and subsided into ragged gasping. The second silence fell, I yanked the iron lid off.

What greeted my eyes left me frozen in place.

"...What in the world is this?"

The Adult Mandrake Root was dyed entirely cerulean blue.

Its contorted, wrinkled face was pallid and blue like a drowned corpse, yet its stubby limbs were vigorously thrashing around in the boiling water. Seeing an entity that was originally crimson-red turn a ghastly, freezing blue threw my brain into utter chaos.

Did these two fuse together instead of combining?!