“You managed to endure that pain, truly impressive.”

Derek, who had handled the potion himself, knew firsthand just how potent and deadly the essence of the Demon King’s Heart was. It wasn’t just “poisonous.”

“If we’re talking poison, it’s more toxic than the venom of a zimcho.”

The legendary zimcho bird was said to carry an extreme, incurable poison, so strong and terrible that antidotes were nonexistent. In Ihan’s original world, it was merely a myth recorded in ancient history. Here, however, such a bird actually existed—and Derek even knew its habitat.

Still, knowing the habitat didn’t mean he’d dare to retrieve it.

Acquisition difficulty: Unknown.

Attempting to acquire it would likely end in death, so he never considered it a viable option.

And yet, the Demon King’s Heart was equally—if not more—dangerous than the zimcho’s poison. Consuming it directly was out of the question. Derek had planned to reduce the toxicity as much as possible before Ihan ingested it, but Ihan had consumed it immediately upon fainting, disregarding any caution Derek had advised.

Even though Derek had left explicit instructions to wait.

…But then again.

“Still, enduring it… that alone is significant….”

Derek understood. Simply surviving the undiluted essence of a potion with an “Unknown” level of toxicity could easily lead to the emergence of new traits.

“It’s like he fought against and conquered that vicious poison. Absorbing all of it within an hour or two proves it, so it’s clear.”

Originally, Derek intended for Ihan to consume the potion with anesthesia and a safer method, but Ihan had ended up battling the pain head-on, forcing his body to absorb the essence.

One might call it an achievement.

“[Endurer], [Madman], [Pain Enthusiast]—he must have developed one of these traits, at least.”

“And his [Poison Resistance] level would have gone up….”

“…There’s a chance other traits might have leveled up too!”

It sounded overly optimistic, but there was no exaggerating the feat.

Just surviving the “Potion’s Agony” was that impressive.

Imagining Ihan’s growth spiking steeply, Derek found himself trembling.

It was an exhilarating shiver of anticipation.

“Level 7 traits wouldn’t have leveled up; Level 8 traits are on an entirely different scale…. But even adding new traits or raising lower-level ones is an incredible accomplishment!”

The addition of a trait was far more than just gaining new skills. It symbolized a deepening potential, an endlessly broadening capacity for growth. In the Instructor’s own words, it was akin to being blessed by the Heavenly Virtues.

“…He might reach Level 8 before the year’s out….”

[Aura Users], Swordmasters, and Heirs of the Dark King—those at Levels 9 and 10 were transcendent beings, rarely moving as if they were gods, silent watchers from the mountains and skies, the immortals. In other words, living strategic weapons who only acted under extreme circumstances.

But starting from “Level 8 Warriors,” they roamed the mortal world as living symbols of terror and power, like Mountain Kings!

“Though they’re not unbeatably strong, they’re the kind who could take on a thousand knights alone.”

One against a thousand.

Heroes of the highest class, capable of altering the tides of a battlefield single-handedly, transforming defeat into victory….

No exaggeration.

And the “weakened Demon King” Ihan had faced the previous day had been Level 8.

“…At full power, it would have been Level 9, maybe even 9.5.”

Regardless, the Demon King was among the upper echelon of Level 8 monsters, no doubt.

So, Derek was hopeful.

A difference of just one level was absolute.

And yet, Ihan had somehow closed that gap and fought the top-ranking Level 8 boss monster head-to-head.

“If he’s already like this… what would happen if he actually reaches Level 8?”

If that happened…

“A Level 8 who could stand toe-to-toe with a Level 9… a true PvP threat?”

Derek looked at the Instructor, wondering just how far Ihan would grow.

 

“Feels… light?”

His body felt light—not just light, but like he’d gone back to his youth.

Who doesn’t remember those days?

When your body was so light you could run endlessly, your knees never ached, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, and you woke up completely fine the next day. That’s how his body felt now.

Whoosh!

Ihan leapt lightly into the air, surprised. He’d barely pushed off the ground but rose nearly half a meter. How high could he jump with full force?

Swish!

A casual kick sliced through the air—not just a saying, but a true, audible cut as his leg cleaved the air like a blade.

His kicks might actually be sharp enough to slice through paper now.

This level of finesse was new to him.

“I was never good at this kind of fine control….”

Whether due to lack of talent or inclination, Ihan had never been confident with intricate techniques. Relying heavily on intuition, he lacked theoretical understanding, leading to a straightforward style.

But now, his technical skill had risen, allowing him to perform precise, refined moves he could barely manage once in a hundred tries before.

“Wow, what’s happening?”

His body had undergone two major changes.

First, it felt as light as if he’d reverted to his youth—but with ten times the vitality. This was beyond any state he’d reached before his injuries.

And second, his newfound precision. While he’d previously used his body haphazardly, now it moved with exacting precision. He suspected that his increased potential had somehow resolved his lack of finesse.

“When your body becomes this healthy, you stop overthinking things?”

Whereas he would have needed countless attempts and sweat-drenched training sessions to achieve this level of control, now he could wield delicate techniques without the usual mental strain.

It was a stroke of luck, though a bit strange.

“Ah, this could be a problem.”

He feared he might grow even more “brute-like.”

“…This is a bit awkward.”

Just as he’d nearly ended up in danger over the potion, Ihan wanted to avoid more experiences like that. He’d prefer to use his brain more, yet the stronger his body became, the less he’d need to.

“Maybe I should study from now on?”

He wondered if reading books might raise his intelligence.

Ihan didn’t want to be seen as ignorant or unrefined.

“Oh, what a life.”

With a resigned sigh, Ihan lamented that even having a strong body came with its problems.

“And besides…”

…He still couldn’t use it freely.

Glancing at his unresponsive clone, he let out a melancholic smile. Not even the Demon King’s power seemed able to cure the curse’s affliction.

“Even a monk wouldn’t be this silent.”

His gaze held a touch of sadness.

 

“…Instructor, do you feel different?”

The boy, who’d waited patiently as Ihan examined his body, asked.

Ihan nodded.

“Couldn’t feel better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, to be specific—no, let me show you.”

Swish.

“I mean I can do things like this now.”

“…?”

Perhaps out of alchemist’s curiosity, So-Shim was eager to see what changes Ihan’s body had undergone, and Ihan indulged him with a demonstration.

Taking a piece of leftover wood from setting up his workshop, he sliced through it effortlessly. So-Shim’s eyes went wide.

Splitting wood itself wasn’t exactly difficult, but…

“Did you just cut that with your hand?”

“Technically, just my thumb and index finger. And instead of cutting, I’d say I scooped it out. Like how you’d carve wood with a chisel. That’s the concept.”

“How does that even…?”

“Just well?”

“…”

It might’ve sounded like he was teasing, but it was the only explanation. He couldn’t describe it except to say that he was now five times more sensitive in fine movements and control than before.

“And I can do this too.”

Unable to explain further, Ihan casually punched the air. But despite the casual nature of the punch—

Boom!

“…??”

So-Shim was stunned once again.

Right now…

“You hit something thirty steps away? …With just your fist power?!”

“Right. I could previously reach ten steps, but now thirty seems achievable.”

“How is that possible?”

“Good question.”

Hundred-Step Divine Fist.

When he’d first showcased it in Vulcan, it could only strike targets within ten steps, but now things were different.

Thirty steps.

Now, he could reach objects thirty steps away and even destroy them. With this precision, he could even strike down assassins from afar.

Not only that, but countless other techniques had surely leveled up too.

“Now, I could probably perform three consecutive Spear of Heaven strikes, and my Plum Blossom Swordsmanship could be unleashed twice in a row.”

Precision works like that. You use strength efficiently, harnessing it with finesse and cunning.

And he realized.

In his current state, he could fight the Demon King one-on-one.

Without needing others’ help, unlike the day before.

“It’s ironic.”

To consume the Demon King’s heart, only to become as powerful as the Demon King himself….

It was irony, yet perhaps this was the rule of the strong.

The winner takes all.

If you’re alive, you’re the victor.

“The strong don’t always win. The one who laughs last is the true winner.”

And now, Ihan felt he could shake off the helplessness he’d felt in the monster-slaying mission the previous day.

The creature was gone, devoured to become his strength.

Satisfied, Ihan smiled.

“Watch closely. I don’t know if this will work, but I’ll try it out.”

“Huh?”

“…Let’s see.”

He attempted a joyful performance.

Tap.

“Oh, it works.”

“…”

“What do you think? Impressive, isn’t it?”

“…”

So-Shim could only stare in stunned silence at the cheerful question.

Did he just see what he thought he did?

Skywalking?!

Watching Ihan walk as if ascending invisible stairs, So-Shim was utterly speechless.

What kind of…

“Maybe he’s not from my hometown. Perhaps… a true martial artist reincarnated?”

Maybe he was the former head of the Shaolin Temple.

It seemed far more reasonable, and So-Shim found himself lost in thought.