Eel (2)

I might not have had any use for it out here, but my manhood was still precious.

That wasn't just me, either; every man on the planet felt the exact same way. Even the closest childhood friends, the kind who would point and laugh like hyenas if you broke a leg, would offer solemn, heartfelt condolences the second something went wrong down there. Anyone who cracked a joke about a groin injury was just a piece of shit. It was an unspoken, universal bro code.

And right now, I was staring down the greatest crisis of my adult life.

Whether it was because of that eel I'd eaten last night or something else entirely, the tent I'd pitched this morning had absolutely zero intention of collapsing. Part of me wondered if eating a single fish could really cause this much collateral damage, but this was the Forest of the Four Seasons. The rules here were completely unhinged. I mean, I'd run a burning fever for an entire day once just from eating a random river fish.

God, please. The last thing I want to do is ask people about this.

I desperately scoured the Gallery search bar, looking for anyone who had suffered through similar symptoms. But men were the same everywhere, regardless of dimension—the search results were just idiot after idiot humble-bragging about their morning wood. Aside from a few horror stories about guys squealing in agony over kidney stones, there was nothing. Not a single soul seemed to be facing a life-or-death crisis like mine.

Do I... really have to make a post about this...?

I agonized over it. It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. Sure, the Gallery granted complete anonymity, meaning I could technically just thicken my skin and brazen it out, but this crossed a line. Back in my gamer days, I had friends who stayed polite even behind nameless avatars because their conscience simply wouldn't let them act shameless. I hadn't understood them back then. But now that a real emergency had struck my lower half, shame was hitting me with the force of a freight train.

No. Let's try Allfather first.

Allfather was an academic powerhouse. A walking encyclopedia like him had to know something. Besides, he was a fellow man; he would take the matter seriously. Praying with all my heart that his scholarly knowledge extended to medicine, I sent him a direct message.

Thank God. He must have been browsing the Gallery, because the reply was almost instantaneous. A wave of relief washed over me. Still, feeling relieved meant nothing if I couldn't walk away with an actual cure. Clinging to desperate hope, I laid out my current predicament.

Leave it to a scholar to jump straight to the most gruesome medical catastrophe imaginable. If something had actually exploded down there, I would have already crossed the River Styx. That said, feeling like it was on the verge of detonating wasn't much better.

That hearty laugh carried a terrifying amount of unspoken context. Just what in the world was in that eel to turn it into an aphrodisiac that put industrial-grade tonics to shame? But theory could wait—right now, triage took priority.

No wonder even the Elixir hadn't worked. I'd been so desperate that I actually rubbed a drop of it directly onto the damn thing, but it hadn't done squat. If anything, it only made the flagpole sturdier. Anyone who wanted to call me a brain-dead moron was free to do so; I wouldn't even argue. I was dead fucking serious right now.

Wait, is he talking about hormones?

I leaned in closer, reading every word with rapt attention.

Allfather's explanation boiled down to simple mechanics: eating the eel had caused my Yang energy—or male hormones—to skyrocket. That surging tide of vitality had naturally pooled in my nether regions, resulting in this absurd standoff. On Earth, this would sound like utter pseudoscience, but this was a fantasy realm. Concepts that defied modern human logic were treated as fundamental laws of nature here.

Ah.

Put like that, it sounded like hell on earth. Cultivating internal arts demanded razor-sharp, immaculate concentration. The pressure downstairs was already bordering on actual physical pain; trying to meditate into a zen state while rigid as a steel pipe seemed damn near impossible.

Cutting it off was off the table, period. As for the other option... well, I sent Allfather a quick message of thanks, sat down cross-legged on the dirt floor, and closed my eyes to begin cultivating. I had to resolve this through martial breathing, no matter what it took.

Don't focus on the lower abdomen. Focus on the energy pooled between my legs.

If anyone had walked into the shelter right now, they would have pegged me as a certified pervert. But my intentions were as pure as driven snow. A man had to protect his pride—and his crown jewels—at all costs. Forcing myself to ignore the glaring, throbbing distraction down below, I carefully reeled in my awareness and began gathering the stray qi.

"Whew..."

It was brutal. Sensing the qi pooled in my lower dantian was second nature ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by now, but trying to grasp the heat throbbing lower down was like grabbing smoke with grease on your hands. Still, backing down wasn't an option. I gritted my teeth and pushed my concentration past its limits.

Swoooosh—

Against the odds, my focus held. The dense, suffocating knot of vitality began to fray at the edges, slowly thinning out. But before I could even celebrate the sensation, something went completely sideways.

Wait... What the—?

The compressed mass of energy suddenly shattered, cascading outward into the rest of my body. It startled me, but before panic could set in, the dense clumps dissolved into a fine, sparkling dust that permeated every fiber of my being. And that was only the beginning.

The mana flowing through my vessels didn't just speed up—it surged with unprecedented, violent momentum. It wasn't just my magical energy, either; it felt like my entire physical vessel had been forcibly hooked up to a high-pressure pump. My heart slammed against my ribs like a war drum, and my breath lengthened, drawing in air far deeper than ever before. The sudden upheaval went beyond surprise—it was utterly disorienting.

F-first, finish the full circulation cycle!

Stopping halfway through a breathing art was an express ticket to qi deviation. I locked my teeth, maintaining absolute focus. I wrestled my deep, drawn-out breathing into rhythm with the raging river of mana, coaxing my violently hammering heart back into a steady, controlled beat.

"The Heavens are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the supreme being that all creation looks up to..."

Just in case, I chanted the mnemonic oral formula the Heavenly Demon had drilled into me. Rather than trying to force the tempest into submission, I pictured myself harmonizing with it. I chose adaptation over suppression, flowing alongside the raw vitality rather than fighting its current. If I didn't, the sheer weight of the storm would tear my meridians to shreds.

Thump! Thump! Thump—

Moments later, the frantic drumming in my chest slowed to a rhythmic thrum, and the chaotic tide of mana settled into a smooth, glassy flow. I cycled a few more slow, cleansing breaths, brought the cultivation method to a close, and opened my eyes.

"Whew."

I shook my head, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. For a second there, I felt like I had become the eye of a hurricane. If I had tried to brute-force that surge instead of adapting to it, what would have happened? Given my amateur cultivation mastery, my meridians probably would have ruptured on the spot.

That oral formula from the Heavenly Demon really is something else.

Reciting it in a pinch had saved my skin more than once. A sudden curiosity about what the next verse might be crossed my mind, but I decided to wait patiently until she brought it up herself.

...Wait, did anything down there burst?

A sudden pang of dread hit me. I cautiously tugged open the waistband of my pants to inspect the situation.

All clear. Still in one piece. I'm so sorry for being such a terrible owner, little buddy.

I had faced down some weird, ungodly shit since waking up in this forest, but surviving a near-fatal morning wood was definitely high on the list. Still, the crisis was averted.

I am taking this secret to the grave. Not a single word goes on the Gallery.

I would rather die than post about this. Writing it down in my private journal was more than enough. And now that I understood the full potency of that river eel, I had plenty of practical notes to record.

Note to self: Always share the eel. Eating it all by yourself will wreck your life.

A flawless journal entry. It had sketches, documented effects, and crucial safety warnings—perfection. With that harrowing morning ordeal behind me, Day 12 officially began.

First order of business: checking in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the Gallery to let everyone know I was still breathing.

Turns out, I was the only true victim here.

Too much of a good thing is poison. I had greedily stuffed my face with eel, and my groin had paid the price. From now on, whenever I caught an eel, I would share it immediately. Assuming, of course, that I could ever catch another one.

Do I need to start screening everything I eat now...?

I could consult Allfather ahead of time, but at the end of the day, any bizarre side effects were mine alone to endure. With a wry sigh, I picked myself up off the ground. Time to get to work.

My top priority for the day was structural reinforcement—the plan I'd committed to yesterday. If I wanted to upgrade this campsite from a makeshift base into a fully fortified sanctuary, every single detail needed careful refining.

The Dwarf said the new barricades will arrive around noon.

Before that happened, I needed to reposition the existing ones. Since I'd widened the perimeter moat into a primary drainage ditch, a lot of the wooden barricades were sitting uncomfortably close to the inner edge. It made far more sense to shift the defense line outward, placing the barricades beyond the ditch.

This is going to take some real muscle.

Each barricade stood slightly taller than my eye level, assembled from thick, heavy logs. Pushing one without mana was usually imposs—

Skrrrrrt—

"Huh?"

Wait. Why did that move?

I had only placed a hand against the timber to test its weight, but the barricade had effortlessly slid backward across the ground. Wondering if the dirt was unexpectedly slick, I knelt to inspect the earth. Not at all. No matter how packed the soil was, heavy timber didn't just glide like it was on ice skates.

What gives? Was that just an illusion?

Thinking I'd imagined it, I planted both hands and gave the barricade a firmer shove. I didn't channel a single drop of mana.

SKRRRRRRT!

To my absolute astonishment, the massive wooden wall scraped smoothly across the dirt with hardly any resistance.

Was the barricade secretly lightweight? Absolutely not. The deep gouges carved into the soil proved just how much sheer mass was bearing down. In other words, the barricade hadn't gotten lighter—my physical strength had gotten absurdly stronger.

I felt completely normal yesterday, didn't I?

Could eating a single eel really cause a permanent physical upgrade like this? It was the only plausible explanation. On Earth, the idea of getting superhuman strength from eating fish was laughable, but where was I right now? The Forest of the Four Seasons. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place where you just had to shrug and accept whatever madness the environment threw at you.

Curious, I dragged the barricade a few more inches, then crouched down, gripped the thick bottom beam, and lifted.

The entire barricade rose off the ground like a bundle of kindling.

...Damn. This is awesome.

For the first time in my life, I could fully understand why professional athletes risked everything to get on gear.