The Secret to Surviving Poison

The Ice Snow Flower was a medicinal herb found almost exclusively in bitterly cold regions, and even then, sightings were vanishingly rare.

It had an infuriating tendency to melt into slush if the temperature rose even slightly, and the window during which it bloomed was remarkably brief. A hyper-specific winter climate, a fleeting lifespan, and the constitution of an ocean sunfish—delicate enough to wither at the slightest offense. Above all, it demanded soil drenched in rich mana. All these factors combined made it an alchemical rarity of the highest order.

Yet, as was always the case, the Forest of the Four Seasons defied every rule of common sense. Mana here was as abundant as air, needing no further explanation. And since the local climate cycled through all four seasons roughly every month, the flower's fleeting lifespan presented zero challenge. Take a casual stroll around the shelter, and pristine blossoms practically littered the ground.

To me, the legendary Ice Snow Flower was nothing more than a seasonal edible green. One whose season rolled around once every four weeks.

Now that I had gathered plenty of Ice Snow Flowers, I had a quick breakfast and set straight to work on concocting.

First order of business: harvesting mandrakes. Rather than nabbing just one, I unearthed a whole batch this time around. One would be gifted to Starlight Princess, while another would undergo the exact experimental process I had run yesterday.

I started by tossing a fresh Adult Mandrake Root into a pot with several Ice Snow Flowers, boiling them together until the mandrake's flesh was thoroughly stained a deep, frosty azure.

"Gwooorgh?! Gwaaaagh!!"

Time for round two: force-feeding the shrieking root a dose of Elixir.

As I shoved the golden draught down its thrashing gullet, the culinary practice of foie gras sprang unbidden to mind—the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠luxury dish made from enlarged goose liver, achieved by jamming funnels down the birds' beaks and force-feeding them mash. A mandrake was technically a vegetable, which made the ethics slightly less appalling, but watching its violently theatrical shrieks and flailing limbs didn't do wonders for my conscience.

Then again, I'm feeding it a miracle medicine, not cramming it with grain.

"SKREEEEEEEEEECH!"

Thwack! Smack!

The moment the Elixir settled into its belly, the medicinal potency kicked in and sent the creature into a frenzied rampage. I dealt it a few crisp smacks across the head until it settled down into dazed tranquility.

Alright, that should do it. Time to ship them out.

I sent Starlight Princess three mandrakes in total: a baseline, unmodified Adult Mandrake Root; a Blue Mandrake infused purely with Ice Snow Flower essence; and a Blue Mandrake force-fed Elixir. If she analyzed them side-by-side, she would likely untangle the chemical and magical threads behind the reaction. Ideally, I would have loved to gift a specimen to Allfather as well and ask for his academic opinion, but my current supply simply wasn't large enough to go handing them out to everyone.

Now that the research was safely entrusted to Starlight Princess, it was time to address my own homework.

First and foremost: energy control. I couldn't stress this enough—uncontrolled power was nothing more than an accident waiting to happen. I didn't just wield aura during life-or-death combat; I relied on it for everyday labor. Felling timber, quarrying rock, digging trenches, shaping stone—aura made all of it vastly more efficient. But if a wave of sub-zero chill frosted over or flash-froze every single tool and timber I laid hands on, daily survival chores would turn into an absolute nightmare.

Let's figure out where this chill is originating from. Did the mana itself permanently warp in nature?

Closing my eyes in quiet meditation, I circulated the Mind Cultivation Method. The river of mana coursing through my meridians was crystal-clear in my inner sight. Accompanying it was a razor-sharp, biting cold that prickled against my awareness. The mana itself was distinctly laced with frost.

Yet, contrary to Starlight Princess's dire warnings, my energy circuits hadn't frozen stiff like someone suffering from Meridian Severance Disorder. My constitution seemed to have completely adapted to the sub-zero influx, allowing the cold mana to cycle through my pathways without the slightest friction or bodily harm.

How should I describe this...?

It felt somewhat like polar seawater that stubbornly refused to freeze beneath the ice sheets. Not that my mana had somehow turned salty, but rather that the refined essence I consumed yesterday had altered the baseline physics of my internal reserves. It wasn't actively harming me, which meant I had dodged the worst-case scenario, but the inconvenience remained unresolved.

If only this thing came with a simple toggle switch.

How on earth could I divorce the frost property from pure aura? While I racked my brain, a sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.

Wait a second. Doesn't all mana ultimately pool back into the dantian?

The entire principle of an Internal Cultivation Art was drawing breath to gather and accumulate energy within the lower dantian. In other words, no matter how broadly mana radiated through my extremities to reinforce flesh and bone, every drop of it had to return home to the dantian at the end of the circuit. What if I filtered out the cold essence and sequestered it the moment the returning mana entered the dantian?

...Wait. Would that end up freezing my dantian solid?

The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine. I abruptly paused my meditation. When in doubt on cultivation, there was only one thing to do: consult the foremost expert on the subject.

I laid out the general dilemma for Cheonma. I wanted to filter the cold energy from my pure mana and quarantine it inside my dantian, but I was terrified that concentrating such biting frost might permanently freeze my core. Was my concern merely an amateur's paranoia, or was it a very real, fatal danger?

Cheonma seemed to ponder the inquiry for a quiet spell before her reply flashed on the screen.

With that cryptic instruction, Cheonma went silent for a short while. I tilted my head, struggling to conceptualize the notion of nesting one dantian inside another. Given her supreme mastery over martial cultivation, I never doubted her expertise for a second—it was simply that my mortal brain couldn't quite fathom the geometry.

Guess I might have to handle all my physical chores without aura for a while.

To think that gaining an extraordinary power would actually make daily manual labor ten times harder. A self-deprecating chuckle escaped my lips. After several minutes of waiting, Cheonma's message finally chimed.

No matter how many times I thought about it, having Cheonma in my corner was an absolute blessing. She handed out trade secrets and peerless cultivation wisdom without asking for a single thing in return.

As she noted, the third mnemonic formula was something best saved for when I had developed fluid, effortless control over both ordinary aura and frost essence. At the very least, she felt it wiser to hold off until I could cleanly wield an Aura Blade. I wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment.

If my growth takes another deranged detour, I'm the one who ends up suffering.

Knowing my luck, I'd end up manifesting an aura tower that punched a literal hole in the sky. Praying fervently that no such catastrophe would occur, I settled cross-legged into another session of the Mind Cultivation Method.

Silently reciting the second Mnemonic Oral Formula Cheonma had taught me, I held the mental image firmly in my mind's eye, drawing a sharp boundary between pure mana and frost essence.

Ssssshhhh—

Like a chemical compound undergoing fractional distillation, the cold mist slowly peeled away from the clear energy. Guiding it along the designated conduits, I herded the chilling essence straight toward the center of my dantian. Just as Cheonma had mapped out, I began packing the frost inward, stubborn grain by stubborn grain, striving to shape a tight sphere within the sphere.

Crackle... crumble.

It was essentially identical to the condensation mechanic of an Aura Blade, and that made it infuriatingly difficult. Just when I thought I had packed the essence into a solid sphere, the outer shell fractured and disintegrated back into mist. Worse still, the turbulent river of mana circulating through my dantian washed over it like tidal surges, eroding the fragile core before it could take shape.

I'm not giving up that easily.

Manifesting an Aura Blade required projecting energy outside the physical form, whereas this took place entirely within my own flesh. In relative terms, this was vastly simpler. Refusing to succumb to frustration, I patiently gathered the stray fragments and compressed the chill anew.

Minute after minute melted away.

Gradually, sheer stubbornness began yielding results. Just before the noon bell would have rung, a tiny, condensed core of frost no larger than a millet grain locked into stable orbit at the heart of my dantian.

Now, if I ever need to tap into the cold...

I gave the tiny pellet a gentle mental tap, popping it like a water balloon. The sub-zero essence instantly flooded outwards into my circulating mana. Re-condensing it back into a pearl wasn't nearly as difficult as forming it the first time; the mental groove was already carved.

If I gradually expanded the density and capacity of this inner frost pearl, I would eventually be able to use ordinary, non-freezing aura for everyday chores. Until that capacity grew, however, I'd have to rely on good old-fashioned muscle power for daily tasks.

Think of it as physical fitness training.

Checking the time, I realized the morning had flown by in the blink of an eye. Right on cue, a notification flashed from Starlight Princess. Talk about impeccable timing; she had promised a preliminary report by lunchtime, and she was punctual to the minute.

Obtaining frost resistance required putting one's life on the line and consuming the raw Ice Snow Flower directly. The sting of disappointment faded quickly, giving way to a sudden contradiction.

Hold on. If it's that lethal, what about the historical figures who allegedly gained cold resistance from it? Were they just insanely lucky?

The question burned in my throat, and I typed it out immediately.

Starlight Princess's next response framed the reality with brutal, uncompromising clarity.

...

So basically, only genetically blessed human tanks could eat it and live.