The mana glided through his entire body, spreading like silk.
It felt so effortless that his earlier resolve to endure pain seemed almost comical. There was no resistance whatsoever.
It was unheard of.
Even in a newborn infant, whose mana paths are at their widest, there is always some degree of resistance. Yet, in a sixteen-year-old body, there was none.
'Is there something wrong with this body?'
If this was a body that yielded no results even after completing a full circulation, or if he had taken the medicine incorrectly and rendered it useless, he was in trouble. All sorts of intrusive thoughts began to swarm his mind.
But as if mocking his worries, everything proceeded perfectly.
The flow was so smooth that, eventually, he didn't even need to exert effort. With just a tiny nudge, the mana spun on its own like a waterwheel. Because there were no blockages, the medicinal effects seeped into every nook and cranny of his being—an added bonus.
At this rate, the efficacy of the medicine would likely be doubled or even tripled.
"Well, I'll be."
It was absurd.
By now, it was impossible not to realize why the mana flowed without resistance and how the body accepted the circulation so effortlessly.
There was only one answer.
'This is a heaven-sent body.'
Ironically, unlike the pathetic mindset of the previous owner, the physical vessel was a lump of pure talent. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it was blessed by the gods. Even the most noble of knights would have sold their souls to obtain such a body. And yet, this vessel had been granted to a spoiled, whiny young master.
'Talk about pearls before swine.'
Lucian suppressed the urge to burst into laughter. He never expected to hit such a jackpot. This talent would no longer rot away in a corner of the Grand Ducal House. It was now in the hands of Lucian, someone who could explode its full potential.
*
From that day on, Lucian took the elixir and continued his mana circulation whenever he had a spare moment.
The heaven-sent body greedily devoured the elixir each time, spreading it throughout his frame. With every completed cycle, his bones and muscles strengthened to a degree incomparable to before. It made him wonder if this was what drinking real Nectar felt like, rather than just a diluted version.
In the meantime, he didn't forget to balance his training with walks and high-calorie meals.
'If possible, I'd like to spend the whole month just focusing on circulation for maximum efficiency, but I have to be mindful of the Grand Duke.'
His internal foundation was strengthening at a rapid pace, but his exterior was still gaunt. If he didn't show any visible change to others, the Grand Duke would likely be disappointed again, dismissing him as nothing more than a boy who was all talk. Staying cooped up in his room was also a recipe for misunderstanding.
'Besides, it's important to familiarize myself with every corner of the mansion.'
Having worked as a gate guard in his past life, he knew the general layout of the territory. However, that knowledge was limited to places a guard was permitted to go. If he didn't map out the areas he previously couldn't enter, it might lead to trouble later.
Fortunately, after three weeks, his health had returned to the point where he could walk without assistance. He still needed a cane for now, but even that seemed like it would be unnecessary within a week.
"Young Master, what on earth have you been eating? Did you manage to find a legendary phoenix egg or something?"
"Phoenix egg, my foot. It was just Moonlight Grass mixed with a few other herbs."
"Does it make sense to recover this fast just from drinking some boiled herbs?"
Lucian smirked at Hans, who was shaking his head in disbelief. He might tell him the truth eventually, but not now. For the moment, he was too busy looking after himself.
"Enough of that. Let's keep walking."
"I think it's about time we headed back in."
"My stamina has improved, so I'm fine. I've seen most of the grounds, so shall we head to the training grounds now?"
"Pardon? The training grounds are..."
Hans hesitated, looking uncomfortable.
"What is it? Do you have bad memories of the place?"
"If anything, it's you who has them, Young Master."
"Me?"
"You told me before that the other young masters used to scold you there. You said you were so sick of the training grounds you never wanted to set foot in them again."
In short, it was a place of trauma.
However, Lucian had no intention of avoiding the training grounds over the past. He wasn't the one who had experienced those things, and it was a place he would need to use personally in the near future. Rather than avoiding it because of old memories, it was better to face it head-on.
"It's fine, let's just go."
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"Do I look like I'm forcing myself?"
"Well, no, but..."
"I was planning on going eventually for swordsmanship training anyway. I haven't been there in a year, so I might as well take a look."
"Swordsmanship? You, Young Master?"
This brat.
When Lucian shot him a glare, Hans quickly looked away. It was clear that changing people's perceptions of him would be an uphill battle.
*
At the training grounds, the knights were in the middle of their drills.
Lucian's eyes sparkled as he took in the scene. Since he had never been allowed inside as a guard in his past life, everything was fascinating.
'The facilities are excellent.'
From weights for training to floors specifically designed with varying levels of firmness to help with balance—everything was there. There were even drinks to prevent dehydration and topical medicines for minor injuries. Everything needed for combat training was systematically prepared.
'If my men had trained in a place like this, their combat power would have doubled.'
Lucian smacked his lips as he watched the knights. Most were too focused on their training to notice him, but a few flinched upon spotting him. However, after a brief moment of surprise, they quickly resumed their drills, feigning ignorance.
'Good attitude.'
A knight who gets distracted by anyone other than their lord isn't much of a knight at all. In his past life, it was always this type of knight who fought well—not the fools who spent their time sucking up to their masters or their children to gain favor.
Just then, Hans whispered anxiously by his side.
"Young Master... is it really okay for me to be here?"
"What now?"
"I heard this is where the knights train, and that we aren't supposed to watch them."
"Ah, that?"
A bitter smile touched Lucian's lips.
The Swordsmanship Styles—specifically, the secret techniques of knights known as ancient styles. They were the essence of ancient wisdom, capable of granting enlightenment and evolving the physical body just by mimicking the movements. It was said that in the distant past, swordsmen mastered these styles to reach the realm of superhumans, supposedly splitting mountains and parting seas with a single blade.
'To be honest, I think that's a bit of an exaggeration.'
Still, it couldn't be entirely false. Even now, there were marks left by a swordsman from a century ago who had sliced a castle in half. In the ancient days, when such styles were abundant and elixirs were mass-produced, it might have been entirely possible.
However, even if these techniques were common in antiquity, reproducing them today was nearly impossible. Therefore, watching another's training was forbidden to all but a select few. To watch and steal someone's style without being their disciple was considered an act of ultimate enmity.
"It might be fine for you, Young Master, but not for me. They might cut off my head for the crime of a mere servant daring to look at their style."
"That won't happen, so don't worry."
"How can I not worry? What if they stab me in the back when you aren't looking!"
"A Swordsmanship Style isn't something you can copy just by looking at it. If it were that easy, would they even use it in actual combat? People would just follow them around and steal it bit by bit."
"Huh?"
In truth, a style wasn't just about the movements; mana had to move in sync with those motions inside the body. Naturally, no one could see and mimic the mana moving within someone else. A rival knight might be able to deduce a technique from the movements, so one had to be careful around them. But for a commoner who knew nothing about swordsmanship, watching made no difference.
"Then... why are the knights so sensitive about it? They get so angry if anyone even comes close while they're training."
"That's because the knights want to keep the commoners intimidated. If the truth got out, people would relax around them. Do you think they want to see that?"
Knights already enjoyed having commoners grovel before them. There was no reason for them to clear up the misunderstanding and lose that leverage.
Upon hearing the hidden truth, Hans stared blankly at the sky with a hollow expression. He must have felt cheated, thinking of all the times he'd been barked at by knights for that very reason.
But in reality, there was an even more sinister reason hidden beneath the surface.
'If people believe that stealing a look at training is a grave sin, it makes it very easy for knights to find excuses to harass them.'
The worst kinds of knights used this misunderstanding quite craftily. They would perform their styles in areas with frequent foot traffic, and when someone passed by, they would frame them for spying on their training. Since the "spy" would have no defense for such a crime, they would offer up whatever they could to appease the knight's wrath. The knight would then throw a tantrum until they were satisfied before pretending to be magnanimous and forgiving them.
Of course, such knights were treated as scum by their peers, but that only happened if they were caught. It was a common sight to see a knight stationed in the countryside performing such a drama to vent their frustration or earn some extra pocket money from the local villagers.
'I should probably wait a bit longer before telling him that part.'
While it wasn't good to have excessive fantasies about knights, it wasn't great to harbor deep-seated prejudice either. It would be better to tell him when he was calmer and could view things more objectively.
As Lucian turned his gaze back to the knights' training, a voice laced with amusement drifted from behind him.
"What brings the Third Young Master here? It's only been a year since you left as if you'd never return."
Lucian turned his head to see a young knight who hadn't broken a single drop of sweat. He had small, slitted eyes and a smile that bordered on a sneer. It was clear at a glance that he hadn't approached with good intentions.
"It has been a while. Do you remember me?"
The knight bowed half-heartedly, meeting Lucian's eyes. His attitude was incredibly insolent for someone addressing his master's son.
Lucian narrowed his eyes and replied sharply.
"Who were you again?"