Your Constitution Can Change (1)
Screeech...! Screeech...! The distant, eerie cry of a scaly thrush echoed through the night under a brilliantly bright moon. Atop a tree branch, the Vice-Commander of the Demonic Cult's Hidden Shadow Unit sat silently, his face concealed beneath a dark cowl.
"..." The object of his gaze from up in the branches was a heavily intoxicated man stumbling down the street.
"Ohhh, the looonely mother on the boooat, weeping in the night..." Mumbling an old, forgotten poem, the man snickered to himself. His entire body was flushed red, radiating heat from the alcohol, and he had rolled up both sleeves to cool off. On his right forearm, a tattoo of two crossed axes was clearly visible. Staggering along, the man slipped inside a dilapidated estate.
"I'm baaaack!" Standing near the entrance of the estate was another man with a deep scar running across his face. "Ugh, look at this bastard reeking of booze. Nice of you to drink all by yourself, huh?" "I only meant to have ooonee glass, but the tavern keeper kept giving me free refills... hic." As the drunken man staggered toward one of the inner buildings, the scarred man grabbed him by the shoulder.
"So, what about the guy the boss was looking for? Did you find him?" "That bastard wasn't there..." "Ah, damn it, you just went out and got wasted. Fine, whatever, just get inside."
The boss is looking for someone? It seemed the drunkard had infiltrated a tavern to search for someone, only to end up drinking himself into a stupor. The Vice-Commander shook his head and focused his gaze on the wooden plaque hanging at the estate's entrance.
There is no reason for a merchant guild—a place meant for trade—to be crawling with so many martial artists. The Vice-Commander could easily discern whether someone belonged to the Murim just by observing their posture and the aura they exuded. The drunkard was one thing, but the scarred man was undoubtedly a trained martial artist as well.
While the men inside the estate could theoretically be guards hired to protect the guild, it was highly unusual for guards to refer to their superior as "the boss." His suspicions thoroughly aroused, the Vice-Commander activated his Stealth/Hidden Concealment Technique to its absolute limit and slipped over the wall into the estate.
"..." "Yawwwwn." "When does this shift end?" The guards had no idea the Vice-Commander was standing right behind them. Moving without a whisper of sound, he glided past them. After about two hours of careful scouting, he had thoroughly investigated every building on the grounds.
Aside from a few women who appear to be maids, they are all men. He had spotted a few individuals who looked like genuine employees of the merchant guild, but their expressions were grim and strained. The Vice-Commander concluded that an unidentified faction bearing crossed-axe tattoos had forcibly occupied the Hyeondong Merchant Guild. Satisfied with his findings, he prepared to leap back over the estate wall.
"Who goes there?!" "...!" A powerful surge of inner qi vibrated through the voice. Realizing he couldn't simply ignore it and run, the Vice-Commander spun around. Standing there with their hands resting on their hips were a wild-looking, robust older man and a middle-aged man with a remarkably plain, forgettable face.
To think masters of this caliber would be hiding among third-class martial artists! The older man possessed a formidable aura, comparable to a senior instructor at the Academy—a rare and powerful expert. He had assumed the estate was populated only by second-class martial artists at best, but he had just run smack into an Absolute Master who had reached the Peak Realm.
"I haven't seen your face around these parts..." "..." "Do you not intend to answer?" the older man asked, but the Vice-Commander remained silent. I was careless. His fatal mistake had been assuming there would only be weaklings here because of the estate's proximity to the Academy. Knowing he could not allow his identity to be compromised, the Vice-Commander quietly drew his sword. Sring! "..." "So you're the type who only speaks once they bleed. Attack!" In an instant, men bearing the crossed-axe tattoos materialized from the shadows, surrounding the Vice-Commander. This is going to be a long night.
"Um, Chef Yoon. Are you going to keep watching me?" "Yes, I am." "Ah..." This was the second day of me trailing a thoroughly embarrassed Man Hanseok. Having observed his daily routine so far, it was virtually identical to any other student's. Wake up early, attend lectures, do some personal training, eat lunch, rest a bit, attend more lectures, do some evening training, eat dinner, and then sleep like a log. Honestly, this was probably the exact routine of ninety percent of the Academy's student body.
Was Man Hanseok slacking off on his training? Not at all. In fact, his regimen was so brutal that even I would have found it exhausting. Every single day, he did 100 push-ups, 100 squats, 100 sit-ups, and ran twenty li. Twenty li is roughly ten kilometers, which is easily enough training to make you lose weight—and maybe even all your hair. It was practically the training regimen of a certain bald hero from a Japanese manga.
"So why on earth are you gaining weight?" "I wish I knew..." Man Hanseok muttered helplessly. Granted, he ate a lot of food, but it wasn't much different from the other students who focused on external martial arts. To build muscle and raw physical power, eating that much was practically a requirement.
"Still, I feel like I haven't been gaining as much weight lately..." "Well, obviously. Do you have any idea how much I racked my brain to design your meal plan?" "Wait, you didn't just pick things that tasted good?" "I make sure to include at least two types of wild greens or vegetables. If I can't fit vegetables in, I minimize the greasy meats as much as possible... That's my standard approach."
"Ah, that explains it! Sometimes after training, I'd get a stomachache after eating, but I guess it was because the food was too greasy?" Of course it was. Anyone who exerts their body is going to feel sick if they stuff themselves with heavy, greasy food. You need to balance it out with light, clean side dishes. In any case, even after employing my estate's servants to monitor Man Hanseok's every move, we found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn't binge-eating snacks, nor was he sneaking out of the Academy behind my back. He was literally just eating his three daily meals at the Outer Dining Hall and training.
But that only made me want to dig deeper. Unless he was somehow bypassing both my eyes and my servants' eyes to secretly gorge himself, this made absolutely no sense. It was around the time I took over the tailing duty from my servant, quietly keeping a distance behind him.
"Hey, you off to clean out the Outer Dining Hall again?" "I heard you crushed someone last time and sent them straight to the infirmary. Is that true?" "Look out, the Mount Tai Press is passing through!" "How can a human body look like a Mount Tai Press?" "..." A group of students from the Eastern Pavilion, seemingly in the same year as him, were jeering at Man Hanseok. I suppose no matter how many geniuses you gather from across the Central Plains, there will always be a few rotten apples. Honestly, I found it quite admirable that Man Hanseok didn't do anything to these scrawny punks, whom he could have easily sent flying with a single punch.
Even though I was just a chef, I was still technically a member of the Academy staff. I couldn't exactly step in, hold up a hand, and yell, "Stop verbal violence!" but I couldn't just stand by and watch either. I decided to dish out some silent punishment. Picking up a few pebble-sized stones from the ground, I prepared to use Yakseon's martial arts. Since old man Yakseon was a physician, this was originally a needle-throwing technique used for acupuncture and hidden weapons, but I couldn't exactly throw real needles at kids. Alright, here goes!Peeing, peeing!
Infused with the profound principles of Yakseon's secret technique, the Sacred Hand Flower Needle, the pebbles shot forward in a straight line. Swish! The stones vanished into air for a brief moment, only to reappear the exact second they reached the backs of the bullies' heads. And then— "Aaargh!" "Ow, that hurts!" "W-Who did that?!" Clutched by sudden pain, the students grabbed the backs of their heads and shrieked. Man Hanseok looked around with a thoroughly bewildered expression. Hey, what are you standing around for? Run! Man Hanseok glanced at the squirming bullies, scratched the back of his head, and then bolted at a speed that completely defied his massive frame. Good. That's more like it.
I continued my surveillance, occasionally treating any other bullies to the grace of my Sacred Hand Flower Needle, but nothing out of the ordinary happened until late in the evening. "Yawwwwn." Since watching him for days hadn't yielded any answers, I decided to check out his night training before heading to bed. I made my way to the Small Martial Arts Ground, where he usually trained, and watched him from a distance. "..." The dim lanterns barely illuminated even half of his massive frame. During the day, he seemed like a gentle, simple-minded giant, but seeing him in the dark, his sheer size was actually a bit intimidating.
"Huuu..." A deep sigh escaped his lips. In his hands, Man Hanseok held a long spear that was roughly the same height as him. Considering he stood at six and a half feet—about 190 centimeters—it was an exceptionally long weapon. "Haap!" With a spirited shout, Man Hanseok threw his entire body into practicing his spear techniques. He hailed from a minor sect in Guangdong called the Donhwa Sect. Though small in scale, I had heard that their spear techniques were formidable enough to rival those of any prestigious clan or major sect.
"Oh..." He wasn't just running through forms; he was sparring against an imaginary opponent. If I were the one standing in front of him... well, I might actually have a bit of trouble. The tip of his spear was sharp and fierce, while the shaft was heavy yet incredibly flexible. Even for someone like me, who had reached the Peak Realm, predicting the trajectory of his strikes was no easy task.
Swish! Swooosh! Man Hanseok thrust and slashed at the empty air as if it were his sworn, mortal enemy. His strikes were honest and straightforward to the point of stubbornness, yet they possessed a force that would make them nearly impossible to evade. Was this really the same Man Hanseok I had been watching for the past two days? The bear-like youth who would just chuckle sheepishly when poked was gone; in his place stood a mighty general, exuding a mountain-moving aura.
As I watched in admiration, something began to shimmer along the shaft of his spear. It looked like a firefly, but there was no way fireflies were emanating from a weapon. It was a 'glowing white substance' floating gently in the air. That was the only way to describe it. What's more, Man Hanseok seemed completely oblivious to the glowing particles drifting around him, performing his forms with practiced ease. Wait, hold on. The moment those white, glowing particles appeared, the sweat on Man Hanseok's body began to vanish. The sweat clinging to his face, which had been glinting faintly in the lantern light, was rapidly evaporating. What on earth is that white stuff? Without a moment's hesitation, I leaped into the Small Martial Arts Ground.
"Man Hanseok!" "Huaaaah!" Whoooosh! Hey, is this kid crazy? I had called out his name assuming he would stop, but his spear came slicing right toward my upper body. Clang! Deflecting the spear shaft with my Hundred Medicine Fist Secrets while twisting my body to dodge, I finally forced him to a halt. Only then did Man Hanseok realize I was there, his face instantly turning pale with shock.
"O-Oh! I-I'm so sorry!" "You're training so hard you can't even hear a human voice." Well, his focus was certainly commendable. But that wasn't the point right now. "U-Um, but why did you suddenly...?" "Because of this stuff floating around you." "Huh? Wh-What is this?!" He really hadn't known. Man Hanseok jumped back in surprise as he finally noticed the white, shimmering particles drifting off his spear. While the white glow was certainly bizarre, there was something else that caught my attention.
"Aren't you freezing right now?" "Huh? No, it's not really that cold..." Did he lose his sense of touch from training too hard? Just to be sure, I reached out and gave his love handles a sharp pinch. "Aaaaargh!" "Strange. Your senses seem perfectly fine." "W-Why did you pinch me all of a sudden?!" "Because you said you weren't cold when it's freezing out here." It was cold enough that our breath should have been turning to white mist, yet Man Hanseok was completely oblivious.
"Exactly when did you start practicing this spear technique?" "I've been studying it since before I entered the Academy, but back then, I only memorized the mnemonic formulas." "And when did you start actually swinging the spear like this?" "Probably... around the time I entered the Academy?" Oh... no way, right? "...What's the name of this spear technique, by any chance?" "The Ice Limit Spear... Aaaaargh! Why do you keep pinching me?!" I was so dumbfounded that I gritted my teeth and gave his side another vicious pinch, prompting him to scream at the top of his lungs. The name of the technique literally screamed what the problem was, and yet he hadn't put two and two together. Truly a legendary level of dense.
"You idiot! The name of the technique is literally telling you what the problem is!" I was so exasperated I dropped all honorifics. "W-What's the problem?! My father practices this exact technique, and he's perfectly fine!" "Even if two brothers learn the exact same martial art, their achievements can be completely different. Why do you think that is?" "Well, even if they're born from the same womb, their talents can differ..." "And why do their talents differ?" "Because depending on whether they take after their father's side or their mother's side, they might have a natural affinity for martial arts, or they might not...?"
Even among siblings, a martial art might suit one perfectly while being completely incompatible with another. Since martial arts are ultimately expressed through the physical body, one's success depends heavily on whether their constitution aligns with the technique. "If you know that much, how could you not realize this? You must have felt something strange when practicing the Ice Limit Spear." "Well, after training, my body always felt nice and cool, so I just thought, Ah, I had a good workout today, and kept going..." "Ugh. I thought you were only built like a bear, but you actually think like one too."
With a sigh, I grabbed his arm and checked his pulse. Even his wrist was incredibly cold to the touch; his entire body was practically radiating frost. This went far beyond just having a low body temperature. It seemed he had never even realized how cold his own body was, likely because he didn't have many friends to point it out. Extreme cold and yin energy were circulating through his entire body, swirling violently within his dantian.
"Did your father eat anything specific or keep anything special near him when he practiced the Ice Limit Spear?" "Uh... not that I know of." "So it's not just a problem with the technique itself, but a conflict with your constitution? Were there any warnings or precautions listed in the manual for the Ice Limit Spear?" "There was a brief mention... it said not to practice it in frozen lands like the North Sea." "That's it!" The name of the technique, the Ice Limit Spear, and the warning not to practice it in frozen lands where cold winds raged. Why would the creator of the Ice Limit Spear write such a warning? The reason Man Hanseok's body grew more bloated the more he trained was precisely because of this. "The answer is the cold qi."