Muscles and a Thousand Gold
> [Body Modification and Readjustment Complete]
> [Imprint: Proficient Archery (D-) Reached Minimum Threshold]
> [Imprint Grade Change]
> [Imprint: Solid Muscles (E)]
> [Imprint: Solid Skeleton (E)]
> [Imprint: Solid Physique (E)]
It had been five straight days of hellish combat.
Jinhyuk stared blankly at his reflection in a brass bowl tucked in the corner of the barracks.
The hollows under his eyes were now filled with a sharp, piercing gaze, and the texture of his body beneath the ragged uniform felt utterly transformed.
He slyly lifted his shirt to gaze at his abdomen.
'Whoa... this is insane. Is this really my body?'
Back in modern Korea, during his days as a jobless slacker, he'd bounced between dead-end gigs after repeated job failures.
From unloading parcels to grunt work on construction sites, he'd done every grueling labor imaginable, proudly dubbing his scrawny frame "battle-hardened compressed muscle" to console himself.
But the mirror had always been merciless.
Irregular eating, delivery food, and zero exercise had left him with skinny limbs and a protruding gut—the classic "ET" build of a lanky young man.
'Why waste cash on a gym when that buys a whole chicken? Couldn't wrap my head around guys shelling out for weights and protein shakes.'
Yet now, he had metamorphosed into something entirely different.
The ridges of his abs felt like segmented leather straps under his fingertips, sharp and defined.
This Solid (E)-grade body wasn't just bulked up.
His bones were steel-hard, his muscles taut like drawn bowstrings.
No cosmetic fluff—this was a weapon optimized purely for slaughter and survival.
Jinhyuk clenched his fist.
The heavy grip strength surging through his palm brought a grin to his face.
"Man, I thought I was gonna croak from the pain... but this payoff? Solid. Beats a lifetime gym membership any day."
He wiped the dried blood from his mouth with his sleeve, muttering in Korean.
The transformation was miraculous; the stabbing chill of the northern wall's cold air no longer pierced his lungs with every breath.
Jinhyuk grabbed the wooden plank and charcoal lump he'd prepped in one corner of the barracks.
To face the inspection team as a mere "barbarian slave soldier" without uttering a word of imperial tongue, he needed rock-solid visual proof.
Then the barracks flap flew open roughly, and in strode a veteran soldier with a pipe clenched in his teeth.
It was Han Noya, the Left Great Wall Army's fixture—a grizzled vet whose decades of service cowed even the brass.
He'd ditched the inspection team's main column en route to the inner fortress and beelined straight for the Cheonrangdae zone.
Having survived for years trading contraband beyond the Great Wall under the Survival Demons' wing—like a modern master sergeant or warrant officer—no one dared stop his rogue moves.
"Look at you, kid? Face like a winner's. Hwang Yeong-gam wouldn't shut up praising you, and damn if you ain't risen from the dead a whole new man."
Han Noya's sharp eyes scanned Jinhyuk's shoulders and legs.
Thirty days ago, on first assignment to the Outpost, this scrawny wretch with death's-door pallor and hate-filled glare had been a joke.
Now? A properly framed warrior's build, exuding confidence.
Jinhyuk lit up with genuine pleasure.
"Hey, old-timer, you made it? Been thirty days. Thought I'd die waiting."
Beom Dal glanced nervously at Han Noya before booming his theatrical translation into Central Plains tongue.
"Milord, our captain says he's been eagerly awaiting your arrival after these thirty days!"
Han Noya scowled, tapping out his pipe.
"Still babbling barbarian nonsense, eh? Tough break for you, Beom Dal. After 120 days grinding at the Great Wall, you'd think he'd pick up one damn phrase. Tsk tsk."
Han Noya fiddled with a hefty leather pouch from his bosom.
He vividly recalled the nomadic strongbow a discharged squad leader had smuggled to Jinhyuk.
No seasoned soldier would ignore that handling such a beast required more than ordinary arrows.
He'd dipped into his own stash to score rare contraband and spoils from quartermasters who dealt with nomads.
But Han Noya was a hardcore pragmatist.
No handover till he'd eyed the goods himself.
Jinhyuk read the cold merchant steel in the old man's gaze.
'Old-timer, they say face-reading's a science... but your paranoia ain't changed.'
Grousing inwardly, he called out anyway.
"Beom Dal, fetch the stuff stashed deep in the warehouse."
Beom Dal and Doksa led troops dragging out a cart hidden deep in Cheonrangdae territory.
Piled high on it: commonplace snow wolf pelts.
Han Noya snorted.
"Hmph, just snow wolf skins? Those are trash beyond the wall—worthless."
"Your crew's skill caps at this?"
Before he finished, Beom Dal swept the snow wolf pile aside.
Beneath gleamed dozens of white wolf pelts, radiating soft silvery light.
Han Noya's pipe froze mid-puff.
Then chill-aura blue wolf skins tumbled out below, and the vet's eyes narrowed in shock.
"White wolves... and blue wolves too? You bastards massacred the forest."
But Jinhyuk wasn't done.
He personally unlatched the double-sealed wooden crate at the cart's base.
Krunch—fwoosh!
The training ground's temperature plummeted; an eerie, icy blue glow swept everywhere, raising gooseflesh.
Moonlit, shimmering azure fur.
No mere beast—this was the true pelt of the Blue Ice Wolf, Black Forest apex predator embodying northern yokai chill.
Clunk.
Han Noya's pipe hit the dirt.
Decades guarding the Great Wall, he'd seen monsters and corpses galore, heard tales of Blue Ice Wolves—but this was his first real encounter.
He bent low, inspecting the pelt minutely.
'Loaned him fire oil expecting singed fur at best—maybe salvage hundred-gold value. What a haul...'
The vet's eyes widened in awe.
A few arrow holes scarred the hide from brutal combat, but flame damage? Minimal.
Those holes proved authenticity, like badges of honor.
The frost-veined blue fur gleamed alive; the texture still hummed with supernatural chill.
This condition? Beyond platinum—a palace treasure.
"...Insane. A Blue Ice Wolf? Used fire oil and still preserved it like this? You really took it down?"
Han Noya's voice quavered faintly.
This barbarian wasn't some slave grunt.
Prime trading partner upending Great Wall underbelly norms.
Snapping to, Han Noya summoned his crew.
Mingled in the inspection team: elite guards and officers bankrolled by his black-market cuts, out-earning their pay.
Word was a squad captain inside the wall assisted him, impressed by his savvy.
He called them; they swiftly packed the pelts as he quoted Jinhyuk.
"Deal. Prime snow wolf: 1 gold each. White and blue wolves: 50 gold apiece. This Blue Ice Wolf... factoring risk, I'll take it for 500 gold. Smuggling past brass undetected? My burden. Gripes?"
Other Great Wall fences haggled low or hit-and-ran.
Han Noya? Transparent risks, fair value—honest(?) trader.
For lifelong slaves, steady supplies trumped cash; his trust cemented his spot with Survival Demons and wall troops.
Jinhyuk nodded.
Fencing themselves? Greedy officials would lop heads.
Seizing the chance, he relayed extras via Beom Dal.
"Old-timer, gold's nice, but we need grub and meds for the lads, stat. Ointments, herbs, grain, proper gear to swap rusty junk. Deduct from the cart price."
Han Noya barked a laugh, nodding.
"Hah, crew's welfare over his cut? No wonder Hwang calls him prime stock. Don't sweat—my boys'll hijack top-shelf from the depot via next inspection wave. Han Noya's name ain't fluff at the wall."
He tossed Jinhyuk the leather pouch he'd toyed with.
"Advance and bonus. Arrowheads infused with anti-demon energy—fit for nomad master archers. Best for beasts short of legends."
Jinhyuk opened it: heavy, violet-glowing tips.
'Wasn't greedy with my Heavenly Wolf Bow, but... freebies welcome.'
He pocketed them with a satisfied smirk.
Han Noya ordered his men to haul the cart fast, then melted into shadows.
Now So Jinpyeong the inspector and main column approached the training ground center, torches blazing.
Han Noya muttered low as he withdrew.
"Let's see... how this monster barbarian handles that greedy So Jinpyeong. Gotta watch close-up."
Jinhyuk double-checked the [貢] character on his plank.
[貢 (TRIBUTE)]
His hanja stopped at Thousand Character Classic; mouth spat only Korean.
Yet he'd forged ironclad trade with a Great Wall kingpin.
"Alright, time to butter up these imperial bureaucrats."
Jinhyuk stepped forward.
Behind him, 800 Cheonrangdae stamped in unison, snapping to attention.
BOOM!
The ground shook; a gale sharper than wind swept the yard.
So Jinpyeong's horses reared in fright; tension etched the inspectors' faces.
Unbelievable discipline from barbarian-led slaves.
Jinhyuk locked eyes with Inspector So Jinpyeong from the center, hoisting the plank.
Now, not words—but profits—would squeeze the empire.