Mandrake (Part 2)

Allfather's detailed explanation boiled down to a single principle.

For a mandrake to mature into adulthood, it required soil not merely abundant in mana, but practically overflowing with it, alongside a total absence of external threats. Yet such pristine lands saturated with supernatural energy were extraordinarily rare across the world, and even when found, the odds of a fragile herb surviving the fierce ecological competition were miniscule.

If the environmental threshold was lowered even slightly, the plant would inevitably be chewed, gnawed, and ripped to shreds by passing humans, monsters, or wild beasts before it could ever grow. In other words, only beneath the most flawless alignment of optimal conditions could a mandrake ever reach full maturity.

Attempting to cultivate one artificially was equally impossible, as it required continuously force-feeding the organism astronomical quantities of pure mana over a sustained period.

Sell it, huh?

At the commenter's inquiry, I shifted my gaze toward the creature resting on the floor. It had thrown an ungodly fit earlier, screeching at the top of its lungs, but after I slammed it into the rocky wall a few times, it had become remarkably well-behaved. Calling it well-behaved was generous, though; it was more accurate to say it had been knocked unconscious. Even so, I wasn't entirely sure whether I ought to sell it off.

Would it be simpler to just think of this as a hundred-year-old wild mountain ginseng?

I dug a little deeper into the Gallery's informational archives to verify its botanical properties. Mandrakes were one of the primary components used in brewing Elixirs and served as an essential base for a vast assortment of magical draughts. From the fleshy taproot down to the stems and leaves, every fiber could be repurposed as medicinal herbs, leaving practically nothing to waste.

It was, quite literally, a plant brought into this world solely to be ground into potions. To unlock its full potential, however, professional alchemy was non-negotiable.

Should I offer it to Sword Master?

He had gifted me an Elixir back when I desperately needed one, so presenting this root felt like an appropriate way to repay my debt. If I dug up a few more later, I could share them with Heavenly Demon and the other fixed nicks as well.

Heavenly Demon in particular was an elderly senior citizen, so an invigorating root like this would surely do wonders for her constitution. When my body was wracked with pain and shattered meridians, hadn't she sent me a priceless divine herb without asking for a thing? Praise the Sun had also gifted me a solid golden shield free of charge, so I fully intended to hand him one without demanding a price either.

For now, returning Sword Master's favor came first. If I ever needed more mandrakes, all I had to do was harvest them.

I genuinely couldn't wrap my head around it. Was there actually someone in this world who harbored a burning hatred for good health? Even if he wasn't quite as venerable as Heavenly Demon, Sword Master was still a mature adult. Sure, he possessed the eccentric quirks typical of an internet forum denizen, but he was generally a polite and respectable fellow.

Well, if he rejects it that adamantly, I can't exactly force it down his throat.

That left Heavenly Demon. She had just offered to provide an antidote along with an exceptional remedy for tinnitus, so trading it with her would work out perfectly. But just as I was about to propose an exchange, a new reply caught my eye.

It was Starlight Princess—the very user who posted daily prayer threads wishing for her own recovery. Come to think of it, there was someone who needed it far more than anyone else. I quickly tapped out a reply.

The memory came flooding back. When I had discovered the Crescent Moon Spirit Grass, Starlight Princess had mentioned that her body desperately lacked Yang essence. Considering that her daily prayers for a cure had stretched on for ages, the illness had to be exceptionally dire. Right on cue, Heavenly Demon seemed to have arrived at the same deduction.

I needed to give it to her right away. The situation sounded far more critical than I had imagined.

Whether finding a remedy was nearly impossible or not, she had been persistently uploading recovery prayers day in and day out. Given that curing it required an herb on par with the Crescent Moon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Spirit Grass, locating one had to be like plucking a star straight from the night sky.

Though taken aback for a second, I cracked a bitter smile once I realized she had intended it as humor. She had likely tossed out that macabre jest just to puncture the suffocating mood—a classic dose of self-deprecating wit.

Every time I witnessed circumstances like this, I was reminded that health was the supreme blessing. It was an irreplaceable wealth that no mountain of gold could ever buy.

This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lunatic was straight-up sexually harassing a bedridden patient. My expression turned cold.

Because the Gallery provided complete anonymity, crude innuendos and vulgar banter were fairly common. In a lighthearted atmosphere it might pass as harmless nonsense, but dropping that trash while someone was fighting for their life was irritating.

Clearly accustomed to dealing with such gutter trash, Starlight Princess returned fire with ruthless composure.

The third method had to be discarded for obvious reasons, and the second was effectively the equivalent of delicate neurosurgery. A procedure of absolute, nightmarish difficulty. If even Earth's pinnacle medical science with state-of-the-art surgical technology would flounder at such an operation, how could it possibly be pulled off here?

In the end, only the first method remained a realistic path. Yet even that posed an astronomical barrier.

Six or seven? That sounded entirely doable, didn't it?

My thoughts immediately returned to the clearing where the adult mandrakes grew. Because I had bolted in a sheer panic earlier, I hadn't taken the time to count them precisely, but there were easily more than ten huddled together in that patch. No, what ten? There had to be dozens. A massive, ridiculous swarm of them.

And even after pulling them out, beating the crap out of them makes them shut right up.

I glanced toward the adult mandrake in my shelter. It remained completely limp, thoroughly knocked out. I had read that even if they seemed lifeless, burying them back into the earth would restore them to vibrant health. Of course, I had zero desire to plant it again; I was going to hand it off to someone else. Having to deal with another ear-splitting tantrum if I dug it up a second time would just give me a splitting migraine.

I figured I might as well speak up. In the process, I could probably secure what I needed from Starlight Princess as well.

I left the comment plainly, meaning that adult mandrakes were rolling all over the place here. A deafening silence fell over the comment section. For a moment, I wondered if everyone had logged off the Gallery to attend to their daily lives.

Nope. She had simply been too shell-shocked to type.

Taking a photo wasn't an issue at all. I packed up a few essentials and made my way toward the Mandrake Colony. Even if the distance was short, a beast could burst from the brush at any second, so I kept my guard up.

"Wait, what?"

The moment I arrived at the colony, I froze, bewildered by the changed sight before me.

The location hadn't moved. However, without anyone pulling them out, several adult mandrakes had half-emerged above the ground on their own. They were turning their heads, surveying the surroundings like sentries on patrol. Having fully matured into adults, it seemed they had developed actual intelligence.

This is a bit of a problem.

The second I was spotted, those lookouts would screech, subjecting me to another concussive roar like before. My only choice was to wait until they burrowed back beneath the earth. Still, this was more than enough to capture proof.

While I was chatting with the academically obsessed Allfather, Starlight Princess finally posted her reply.

Staring at Starlight Princess's bewildered question, I fell into brief contemplation. If I answered that I was Park Jonghyuk of the Miryang Park clan, would they roast me for trolling?

Then again, I had no proper answer to give anyway. I had no idea why I had been dumped into this godforsaken forest myself. While I hesitated over what to type, a barrage of comments cascaded down the thread.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Foul-mouthed bastards, the lot of them. Suppressing a smirk, I refocused my attention on Starlight Princess.

The money Allfather had wired me was more than enough for the time being. As for food, I only planned to ask for supplies in life-or-death emergencies.

What I needed right now was one specific thing—something perhaps even more critical than rations.

This was ideal. Starlight Princess was capable of fulfilling the single most crucial lifeline I lacked. The fact that she was profoundly skilled in alchemy was the ultimate cherry on top.

This was more than enough. All that remained was delivering the goods.

To do that, of course, I had to bag another mandrake. I fixed my eyes on the sentries standing guard.

Calling it a watch is generous. Their perimeter security isn't that tight.

No matter what supernatural properties they held, a plant was still a plant. Their wariness had noticeably dissipated compared to before. As rooted flora, they had to burrow back beneath the soil sooner or later. I waited quietly until only the last one lingered.

Swrsh! Shuck!

One by one, the mandrakes squirmed back into the earth. Just as the final sentry prepared to sink down—

I seized the moment and charged forward at full throttle. Catching sight of my sudden sprint, the mandrake jumped in terror and stretched its gaping mouth wide.

I had to silence it before it could screech. But the distance was too great.

Anticipating this exact dilemma, I had prepared a countermeasure: a hefty stone I had picked up moments ago.

"Ooh...!"

Whoosh!

Just a hairsbreadth before it could let out its scream, I hurled the stone. Thanks to my childhood baseball training, the rock traced a laser-straight trajectory through the air.

THWACK!

"Kwekkk!"

Taking a direct impact to the skull, the mandrake uttered a muffled, choked gasp. All that was left was subduing it.

In a split second, I lunged forward and clamped down on the squirming root with both hands. And then...

Thud! Smack! Wham!

Clutching the foliage sprouting from its head, I rained down heavy punches so it couldn't muster so much as a squeak. On top of that, I scooped up a fistful of loose soil and forcefully crammed it into its gaping maw. With its cheeks bulging full of dirt, it wouldn't be able to scream a thing.

Thanks to these relentless efforts, the mandrake soon went completely limp in my grip, knocked out cold.

Is this really the proper way to harvest a mandrake?

Well, results spoke for themselves.

A flawless shortcut wasn't fundamentally different from standard orthodox practice anyway.

I'll send this to Starlight Princess first, and then hand out one to everyone else as well.

With this, I would finally be able to repay the debts of gratitude I owed.