The mana spread through his entire body as smoothly as flowing water.
There was no resistance at all—so little that his preparation for pain felt ridiculous.
It made no sense.
Even newborn babies, whose pathways were at their widest, still experienced some resistance.
But this body, already sixteen years old, had none.
Is something wrong with my body?
What if, even after completing circulation, this body showed no benefit at all?
What if he had taken the elixir only for it to be completely wasted due to a flawed pathway?
All sorts of anxious thoughts began piling up one after another.
But as if mocking his worries, everything continued smoothly.
So smoothly, in fact, that he hardly needed to apply any force by the end.
With only the slightest push, the mana rotated like a waterwheel.
The lack of blockages allowed the medicine's effects to seep into every corner of his body as a bonus.
At this rate, the effect would be doubled—no, tripled.
"…Well, I'll be damned."
It was absurd.
At this point, there was no way not to understand.
Why mana flowed through his body without the slightest resistance.
And why his body accepted circulation so effortlessly.
There was only one answer.
"A body blessed by the heavens."
Ironically, despite the pathetic mindset of the body's previous owner, the body itself was a mass of pure talent.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it divine blessing.
Even a noble, chivalrous knight would have sold his very soul if it meant obtaining a body like this.
Yet such a body had been wasted on a spoiled young master.
A pearl necklace on a pig, indeed.
Lucian suppressed the laughter threatening to burst out.
He had never expected to hit the jackpot like this.
This talent would no longer rot unnoticed in a corner of the ducal estate.
Now it belonged to someone who could fully unleash every ounce of its potential.
From that day forward, Lucian drank elixirs whenever he found the chance and continued his circulations.
His heaven-blessed body devoured the elixirs greedily each time, spreading their effects throughout his entire form.
With every completed circulation, his bones and muscles strengthened to a degree incomparable to before.
One would wonder if even real Nektar could produce results this dramatic.
Meanwhile, he didn't forget to take occasional walks and eat high-calorie meals to support the process.
If possible, I'd like to spend the whole month doing nothing but circulation for maximum efficiency… but with the duke watching, I don't have much choice.
***
His interior was strengthening at a rapid pace, but outwardly he still looked thin and frail.
If others couldn't see the difference, the duke would be disappointed again.
He would be dismissed as someone whose actions never matched his words.
Staying shut in his room all day would only invite more misunderstanding.
More importantly, I need to learn every corner of the estate.
In his previous life, he had worked as a gate guard, so he knew most of the layout of the territory.
But that was limited to places a guard was allowed to go.
If he didn't familiarize himself with the areas he had never been able to enter before, it could cause trouble later.
Fortunately, after three weeks, his body had recovered enough that he could walk without being supported.
He still needed a cane, but even that looked like it would become unnecessary in another week.
"Young master, what on earth did you drink? Did you perhaps obtain a phoenix egg from legend?"
"Phoenix, my ass. I just mixed Moonlight Herb with a few other herbs and drank it."
"And that alone explains this recovery speed?"
Lucian let out a small, amused laugh at Hans, who was practically sticking out his tongue in disbelief.
He might reveal the real secret someday, but not now.
Right now, he had enough to focus on just taking care of his body.
"Enough. Let's continue our walk."
"It seems about time we head back, though."
"My stamina's fine. I've explored most of the usual places—so how about we visit the training grounds now?"
"Eh? The training grounds…?"
Hans hesitated with a reluctant expression.
"Why? Do you have bad memories of the training grounds?"
"If we're being precise, it's not me—it's you, young master."
"Me?"
"You once told me you were scolded there by the other young masters. You said you hated even setting foot in the training grounds because of it."
So it was a place tied to unpleasant memories.
But Lucian had no intention of avoiding the training grounds over something from the past.
Not only was it not his doing—he wasn't the same person anymore—but it was a place he would need to use himself soon.
Avoiding it because of old memories would be pointless. Facing it head-on was better.
"It's fine. Let's just go."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Do I look like someone forcing myself to go?"
"Well, no, but…"
"I was planning to start sword training sooner or later anyway. I haven't visited in a year, so I should at least take a look."
"Sword training? You, young master?"
…This brat.
Lucian shot him a sideways glare, and Hans immediately turned his head away.
He really had a long road ahead if he wanted to fix everyone's perception of him.
At the training grounds, the knights were in the middle of their sword drills.
Lucian's eyes sparkled as he looked around.
In his previous life, he'd never been allowed to enter this place as a mere guard, so everything felt new and fascinating.
"Nice facilities."
From weighted equipment for strength training, to floors engineered to be selectively firm or soft for balance drills—
From drinks prepared to prevent dehydration, to basic ointments for treating minor injuries—
Everything necessary for combat training was systematically arranged.
If my troops in my previous life had trained in a place like this, their combat power would've doubled.
Lucian clicked his tongue in admiration as he observed the knights in the middle of their drills.
Most were too focused on training to notice him, though a few flinched when they spotted him.
But their surprise lasted only a moment; they quickly pretended not to see him and resumed their practice.
A good attitude.
Unless it was their lord himself, knights shouldn't be watching every little mood shift of some noble heir.
And in truth, the ones who fought best in his previous life were knights like these.
Not those fools who tried to curry favor with their lord or his children every chance they got.
Just then, Hans whispered anxiously at his side.
"Young master… am I even allowed to be here?"
"Why not? What now?"
"I heard this is a place where knights train, so outsiders shouldn't be watching carelessly."
"Ah, that?"
A bitter smile formed on Lucian's lips.
Sword Forms—more precisely, the Ancient Sword Forms, the secret art of knights.
It was said that merely imitating their movements could grant enlightenment and evolve the body, a distilled legacy of ancient wisdom.
In ages long past, swordsmen mastered these forms and ascended to the level of superhumans.
They claimed such men could split mountains and part seas with a single swing.
Honestly, I always thought those stories were a bit exaggerated…
Still, they couldn't be entirely false.
After all, the mark left by a swordsman who supposedly split a castle in half just a century ago still remained.
If such things were possible in an age overflowing with Sword Forms and mass-produced elixirs, then perhaps the legends weren't too far-fetched.
But even if such techniques were once common, Sword Forms were now impossible to reproduce.
Therefore, except for a select few granted permission, even watching someone else's training was forbidden.
For someone who wasn't even an apprentice to observe and steal Sword Forms would make them a sworn enemy for life.
"Young master might be fine, but I'm not," Hans whispered. "A mere servant watching Sword Forms? I could get my head cut off."
"That won't happen. Don't worry."
"How can I not worry? What if they stab me from behind the moment you're not looking!?"
"You can't learn Sword Forms just by watching. If it were that easy, wouldn't everyone just follow knights around and copy their swordsmanship little by little?"
"…What?"
The truth was that Sword Forms required mana to move along with each motion.
Naturally, no ordinary person could see mana moving inside someone's body to imitate it.
Of course, if it were an enemy knight, they could infer techniques from movement alone—so knights needed to be careful of them.
But for an ordinary person who knew nothing of swordsmanship, watching or not watching made no difference.
"Then… then why are the knights so sensitive about it? They get furious if I so much as step too close while they're training."
"Because from the knights' perspective, commoners bow and scrape on their own. If a misunderstanding keeps them nervous and submissive, why correct it? If people learned the truth, they'd relax—and would knights want that?"
Knights already enjoyed seeing commoners tremble before them.
Why would they reveal something that would make people stand straighter instead of bowing deeper?
Learning the hidden truth, Hans stared blankly up at the sky, utterly defeated.
He must have felt wronged after being yelled at by knights all this time for such a trivial reason.
But in reality, there was an even darker motive behind it.
If people believe that watching training is a grave sin, then knights can use that misunderstanding as an excuse to pick fights and abuse others.
Among knights, the truly rotten ones exploited this misconception with disturbing finesse.
They would "train" in places where foot traffic was common and, the moment someone passed by, accuse them of spying on their Sword Forms.
At that point, the accused—believing themselves guilty of a capital offense—had no choice but to desperately offer gifts or money to appease the knight's anger.
The knight would then make a show of rampaging until satisfied, only to "forgive" the victim once enough tribute had been offered.
Of course, such knights were despised even by other knights… but only when their behavior was publicly exposed.
Out in remote villages, where they had been sent on assignment, it wasn't uncommon for knights to pull this little performance to vent frustration or earn pocket money.
It seems I'll have to explain this properly to Hans later.
Having unrealistic admiration for knights was dangerous, but gaining a fixed prejudice was just as bad.
It would be best to tell him once his emotions settled and he could view things clearly.
Lucian turned his eyes from Hans back toward the knights' Sword Forms—
When suddenly, a voice with a hint of laughter came from behind him.
"What brings the Third Young Master here? You left as if you'd never return, and now it's only been a year."
Lucian turned, finding a young knight with not a single bead of sweat on him.
Nearly closed, narrow eyes, and a smile bordering on mockery.
It was obvious he hadn't approached with good intentions.
"It's been a while. I wonder if you still remember me?"
The knight gave a shallow, half-hearted bow while meeting Lucian's gaze.
Even though he was addressing his lord's son, his attitude was unbelievably insolent.
Lucian narrowed his eyes sharply and replied.
"Who were you again?"