Early the next morning, before dawn had fully broken, Yuhran was already up.
He didn't quite know why he'd woken so early—maybe it was habit, or maybe some supernatural force was pushing him to work harder.
Stepping out of the house, the sky was still dim, the streetlights flickering with weak light.
Dressed in brand-new sportswear, Yuhran stood at his doorstep and yawned.
Before long, he saw Mikami Natsu running toward him out of the distant morning mist.
She was breathing lightly, wearing a loose T-shirt, looking plain enough at first glance.
But with every step she took, her chest bounced slightly.
Youthful. Energetic.
"Sorry, Unc—no, Mr. Yuhran. You're my employer now."
"Before we officially start training, please warm up with me first."
Mikami Natsu stopped in front of him, hands braced on her knees as she steadied her breathing, speaking in a tone of professional advice.
Though stopping like this disrupted her own rhythm, it was absolutely necessary.
If Yuhran strained a muscle through recklessness, all her future pay would go straight down the drain.
Yuhran nodded in agreement.
Five minutes later, the warm-up ended, and the two of them officially set off.
...
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye.
Yuhran sat on a park bench, gasping for breath.
Only after downing several bottles of electrolyte water did he finally feel a little better.
Just as he was about to rest a bit longer, Mikami Natsu wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked over, gesturing that he couldn't sit for too long.
While the muscles were still tense and lactic acid was building up, he needed to stretch again—otherwise he wouldn't be able to get out of bed the next day.
"..."
Yuhran glanced at her helplessly, stood up, took a few steps, and then didn't feel like moving anymore.
Lowering his head, he silently used the warrior's breathing technique, trying to bring his ragged breathing back under control.
His lungs still felt like they were on fire.
However, in Mikami Natsu's eyes, this looked like slacking off.
She sighed, set her water bottle aside, and asked with concern:
"Mr. Yuhran, how long has it been since you last did any long-distance running?"
She really wanted to complain that Yuhran had terrible endurance.
But then she remembered the gap between professionals and amateurs, so she quickly changed her tone.
"Well, you are a foreigner, so that's understandable. I've heard that in your country, schools don't really emphasize extracurricular sports."
"Even so, lasting two hours on your first try is already very impressive. Keep it up."
"I'll help you stretch this time."
As she spoke, she took Yuhran by the hand and led him behind a large tree.
Seeing no one around, she half-crouched and began massaging his calves, loosening the muscles.
By now, Yuhran had already managed to steady his breathing.
Leaning against the tree, feeling the soft yet firm touch on his legs, he was momentarily stunned.
So considerate?
Yuhran looked down at Mikami Natsu, who was focused on the massage, and asked:
"Is this included in the 5,000 yen?"
"Of course not. This is a special exception. Huh—wait, you recovered that fast?"
Mikami Natsu looked up, clearly surprised.
Just moments ago he'd been panting, lips pale, looking like he might collapse at any second. And now…
Was this a difference in constitution?
She couldn't quite figure it out—but at least it made things easier.
After finishing the left leg, Mikami Natsu tried to stand up, seeing that Yuhran had recovered his strength.
But then she reconsidered. Stopping halfway through didn't seem very professional—and he had paid.
So she quietly crouched down again and continued massaging his right leg.
Yuhran, seeing this, happily enjoyed the rest, his thoughts drifting. That cultivation method really was something.
With every breath, whenever his body reached its limit, a warm current would surge through his limbs.
And with each surge, his physical ability would improve a little more.
Over time, it formed a virtuous, self-reinforcing cycle.
The only downside was—
The process was incredibly painful.
"Mr. Yuhran? Mr. Yuhran…"
Just as he was pondering whether there was only this one way to improve—
Mikami Natsu's gentle call snapped him back to reality.
"Are you listening to me?"
Yuhran lowered his head. "I am."
Mikami Natsu let out a sigh of relief. She'd glanced unintentionally at what was right at eye level and thought he'd gotten distracted by something else.
If that were the case, she'd have to negotiate a pay raise.
She stood up, shook her slightly sore arms, and said slowly:
"Since your stamina has mostly recovered, let's continue with the rest of today's training."
"From this run, I've more or less figured out your endurance limit."
Not the limit, Yuhran silently corrected her.
He curled his fingers into a fist, then relaxed them, feeling the power surging inside his body. He had a hunch—
If he could last two hours this time, then next time he might last two hours and ten minutes.
Supernatural power really was unfair like that.
Of course, he didn't point this out to Mikami Natsu.
It was better to keep this kind of advantage to himself. He was actually looking forward to seeing the shock on her face later.
All those "masaka" and "nani" reactions—the more, the better.
Other people's astonishment was the best positive feedback to push him to keep going.
—At this moment, blazing determination ignited in Yuhran's heart.
...
Twenty days later, Yuhran's pace had reached twelve kilometers per hour, and he could sustain it for three hours straight.
This was already top-tier amateur level.
Yuhran couldn't help but marvel—if you didn't push yourself, you'd never know where your limits really were.
Sure enough, just as he'd expected, Mikami Natsu was genuinely shocked.
She even suspected Yuhran had been deliberately hiding his abilities, because she'd never seen anyone improve this fast—
Had he been taking drugs?
Her own previous limit was only sixteen kilometers per hour for one hour.
That was competitive at the international level.
Letting out a breath, she felt the pressure.
Fortunately, in the days that followed, Yuhran's speed stabilized at twelve kilometers per hour.
That allowed her to relax a little.
"Maybe he's just exceptionally talented… that's fine, that's fine. Otherwise, my years of hard work would look like a joke."
"So casually…"
She shook her head. To avoid being overtaken and taking a hit to her pride—and for balanced development—
She began shifting more focus to other areas.
Upper body. Core strength. Flexibility…
Day by day, time passed, and Yuhran's strength and endurance continued to grow steadily and noticeably.
Until one day, when Yuhran casually picked up an apple to quench his thirst.
When he subconsciously squeezed—
The apple was crushed with ease.
Staring at his palm, he went online to check, and then realized—
His grip strength had reached more than double that of an ordinary person.
"Ninety kilograms of grip strength with one hand… what kind of level is that?"
He muttered to himself, thinking—
Finally, he could try using some heavy weapons.
With grip strength like this, what equipment was there that he couldn't use anymore?