Chapter 5

Chapter 5
## Chapter 5

The energy of the mana flowed through his physical form, as smooth and seamless as fine silk.

The sensation was so fluid that his previous mental preparation for agonizing pain felt almost silly. He encountered no friction or blockage whatsoever.

It was a phenomenon that defied logic.

Typically, even in the body of a newborn where the pathways are at their most expansive, there is some inherent resistance. Yet, in the frame of a sixteen-year-old, the mana moved with total freedom.

‘Is there a defect in this vessel?’

He worried for a moment. If this was a body that simply couldn’t retain energy after a full cycle, or if he had somehow botched the consumption of the medicine, he was in a dire situation. A wave of anxious doubts began to cloud his thoughts.

However, as if to dismiss his fears, the process continued flawlessly.

The rhythm was so natural that, eventually, his conscious effort became unnecessary. With the slightest mental push, the mana rotated on its own like a tireless waterwheel. Since there were no obstructions, the healing properties of the elixir saturated every fiber of his being—an unexpected windfall.

At this pace, the potency of the treatment would likely be doubled or even tripled in its effect.

“Good grief.”

The situation was borderline ridiculous.

By this point, it was impossible to ignore the reality of why the mana circulated without hindrance and why his body integrated the energy so greedily.

There could only be one explanation.

‘This is a body touched by the heavens.’

Ironically, despite the cowardly soul of the original occupant, the physical shell was a concentrated mass of genius. To call it a divine blessing wouldn’t be hyperbolic. Even the most prestigious knights would have traded their very souls for such a gift. And yet, this incredible vessel had been wasted on a spoiled, complaining nobleman.

‘Truly casting pearls before swine.’

Lucian bit back a sudden urge to laugh out loud. He had never anticipated inheriting such a goldmine. This raw talent would no longer wither away in a forgotten wing of the Grand Ducal House. It was now under the command of Lucian, a man who knew exactly how to ignite its dormant power.

From that day forward, Lucian consumed the elixir and dedicated every free moment to mana circulation.

The heaven-sent body was insatiable, devouring the medicine and weaving it into his anatomy. With every rotation he finished, his skeletal structure and musculature grew sturdier, reaching a level of strength that felt alien compared to his previous state. He found himself wondering if this was the sensation of drinking pure Nectar, rather than a mere imitation.

Throughout this process, he made sure to supplement his internal work with light exercise and calorie-dense meals.

‘If I had my way, I’d spend the entire month doing nothing but mana cycles for peak results, but I have to consider the Grand Duke.’

His internal core was fortifying at a blistering speed, but his outer appearance remained frail. If he failed to display any tangible physical progress, the Grand Duke would surely be let down again, labeling him a boy who was nothing but empty promises. Furthermore, staying locked in his quarters was a surefire way to invite unwanted rumors.

‘Besides, I need to master the layout of this estate.’

In his previous life as a gate guard, he had a functional understanding of the territory. However, that map was limited to the areas a low-ranking sentry was allowed to see. If he didn’t scout the zones he had once been forbidden from entering, he might find himself in a bind later on.

Luckily, after three weeks of recovery, his vitality had improved to the point where he could move under his own power. He still relied on a walking stick for the moment, but it felt as though he would be able to discard it within another week.

“Young Master, what have you been eating? Did you manage to track down a mythical phoenix egg or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hans. It was just Moonlight Grass blended with a few common botanicals.”

“How can a person mend this quickly just from drinking some herbal tea?”

Lucian gave a knowing smile to Hans, who was shaking his head in sheer confusion. He might eventually reveal the full truth, but the time wasn’t right. For now, he was focused entirely on his own progression.

“Enough of that. Let’s keep moving.”

“I think we should probably head back inside now.”

“My endurance has spiked, so I’m fine. I’ve toured most of the gardens, so let’s head toward the training grounds.”

“Excuse me? The training grounds are…”

Hans stopped in his tracks, looking visibly distressed.

“What’s the matter? Do you have some haunting memories of that place?”

“If anyone does, it’s you, Young Master.”

“Me?”

“You told me once that the other young masters used to berate you there. You said you loathed the training grounds so much you never wanted to lay eyes on them again.”

To put it plainly, it was a site of deep psychological scarring.

Yet, Lucian had no intention of avoiding the area because of the past. He wasn’t the person who had suffered those indignities, and it was a facility he intended to utilize for himself very soon. Rather than fleeing from old ghosts, it was far better to confront the location directly.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

“Are you absolutely certain you’re up for this?”

“Do I look like I’m struggling?”

“Well, not exactly, but…”

“I intended to go there for my own sword practice eventually anyway. It’s been a year since I’ve seen it, so I might as well survey the area.”

“Sword practice? You, Young Master?”

This kid.

When Lucian cast a sharp look his way, Hans immediately averted his gaze. It was becoming clear that overturning people’s low expectations of him was going to be a steep climb.

At the training grounds, the order’s knights were deep in the middle of their daily drills.

Lucian’s eyes gleamed as he took in the sight. Since he had been barred from entering as a mere guard in his former life, the scene was captivating.

‘The equipment here is top-tier.’

From heavy weights for conditioning to specialized flooring with different textures to improve footwork and balance—it was all provided. There were even stations with hydration to prevent exhaustion and ointments for minor scrapes. Every necessity for high-level combat training was meticulously organized.

‘If my previous squad had access to a facility like this, their efficiency would have doubled.’

Lucian clicked his tongue as he observed the warriors. Most were too immersed in their routines to notice his arrival, though a few did jump slightly when they caught sight of him. However, after a momentary lapse in focus, they went right back to their exercises, acting as if they hadn’t seen him.

‘That’s the right mindset.’

A warrior who gets distracted by anyone other than their commander isn’t worth much. In his past life, these were the types who actually survived a real fight—not the sycophants who spent their time flattering their superiors or their children to get ahead.

Just then, Hans leaned in and whispered with a nervous tone.

“Young Master… is it really permitted for me to be standing here?”

“What are you on about now?”

“I’ve heard that this is the knights’ private domain, and that commoners aren’t allowed to watch them train.”

“Oh, that old rule?”

A cynical grin touched Lucian’s mouth.

The Swordsmanship Styles—specifically, the guarded techniques of knights known as ancient styles. They were the distilled essence of old-world knowledge, said to grant sudden enlightenment and physical evolution just by mimicking the forms. Legend had it that in the ancient era, masters of these styles reached superhuman heights, supposedly cleaving peaks and parting oceans with a single swing.

‘Personally, I think that’s a bit of tall tale.’

Even so, there was a grain of truth in it. Even in the current age, there were scars on the landscape left by a master a century ago who had literally sliced a fortress in two. In the ancient days, when these styles were plentiful and power-boosting elixirs were common, such feats might have been feasible.

However, even if these methods were widespread in the past, recreating them today was nearly impossible. As a result, observing another person’s training was strictly forbidden to everyone except a few. To watch and steal a style without being an official student was viewed as a declaration of war.

“It might be okay for you, Young Master, but for someone like me? They might take my head off for the crime of a servant spying on their techniques.”

“That isn’t going to happen, so calm down.”

“How can I not be terrified? What if they put a blade through me when your back is turned!”

“A Swordsmanship Style isn’t something you can just replicate by watching. If it were that simple, would they even use it in a real fight? People would just trail them and pick up the moves one by one.”

“Wait, really?”

The reality was that a style wasn’t merely about physical movement; internal mana had to flow in a specific harmony with those actions. Obviously, no one could see the internal mana pathways of another person. A rival knight might be able to piece together a technique based on the external motions, so one had to be cautious around peers. But for a commoner who didn’t know the first thing about the blade, watching changed nothing.

“Then… why are the knights so aggressive about it? They act like they’ll kill anyone who gets close while they’re working out.”

“That’s because they want to keep the common folk scared. If the secret got out, people wouldn’t be as intimidated by them. Do you think they want to lose that prestige?”

Knights already took pleasure in having the lower classes grovel. They had no incentive to clear up the confusion and lose their social dominance.

Hearing the cold truth, Hans stared up at the clouds with a stunned, empty look. He clearly felt cheated, remembering all the times he’d been chased away or yelled at by knights for that exact reason.

But in truth, there was an even more malicious motive lurking under the surface.

‘If the public believes that witnessing a training session is a capital offense, it makes it incredibly easy for corrupt knights to find reasons to bully people.’

The worst types of knights utilized this myth quite effectively. They would practice their styles in areas where people frequently walked, and when a civilian passed by, they would accuse them of espionage. Since the “spy” would have no way to defend themselves against such a serious charge, they would offer up anything they had to avoid punishment. The knight would then make a massive scene until they were satisfied, before acting like they were being merciful by letting the person go.

Of course, such knights were viewed as trash by their more honorable colleagues, but that only mattered if they were caught. It was a common occurrence to see a knight stationed in a remote village performing such a charade to blow off steam or extort some coins from the locals.

‘I’ll wait a while before I dump that part on him.’

While it wasn’t healthy to have delusions about the nobility of knights, it also wasn’t good to carry a deep-seated hatred. It would be better to explain it when he was in a more balanced state of mind.

As Lucian turned his attention back to the practice field, a voice dripping with mock politeness came from behind him.

“What brings the Third Young Master here? It’s been a full year since you left as if you were never coming back.”

Lucian shifted his gaze to see a young knight who hadn’t broken a sweat. He had narrow, cat-like eyes and a smirk that was essentially a sneer. It was obvious from his body language that he hadn’t come over to be friendly.

“It has been a long time. Do you recognize me?”

The knight offered a lazy, half-hearted bow, staring directly into Lucian’s eyes. His demeanor was incredibly disrespectful for someone speaking to the son of his lord.

Lucian narrowed his eyes and fired back a sharp response.

“Remind me, who are you again?”