In the early dawn, before the sun had even risen, the late-night taverns had yet to close their doors. It was the hour when only the farmers began to stir, trudging sluggishly toward the fields.
*Hah, hah!*
*Thud, thud.*
Yet, rough panting out of place for this hour accompanied the dull sound of tearing through the air, echoing down the street. One might have even mistaken it for a galloping horse. Such was the extraordinary momentum of the runner.
However—
"Sir Knight, running again today?"
"You're truly dedicated, sir."
"Keep it up!"
For the farmers, rising early was a daily routine. They sent words of encouragement toward the man, whose fierce exertion blew away their lingering drowsiness and lethargy.
No matter how hardworking one was, repeating the same day over and over easily led to mental exhaustion. The sight of this man, shaking off such spiritual fatigue and tedium, was a great source of joy and stimulation for the farmers.
Especially since—
"Oh my, how scandalous."
"Cover your eyes before you speak, would you?"
"I wish my husband was like that, hehe."
"...Is that a man or a beast?"
The women feigned covering their eyes, yet took in every inch of the half-naked man through their peripheral vision, truly absorbing the vitality of life.
Conversely, the men would sometimes gaze enviously at the man's physique, drawing great inspiration from it. In a way, it seemed like a mutually beneficial phenomenon.
"Hah, hah...!"
The man merely offered a brief glance of acknowledgment to the greeting farmers, far from being warm and friendly. It wasn't that he was unkind, but rather that he was so deeply focused on his exercise that he had no leisure to respond to them.
Knowing this, the farmers didn't mind at all. In fact—
"Have this later, sir!"
*Whoosh!* An apple was thrown. Without even looking back, the man caught it effortlessly and waved his hand. A sign of gratitude. The farmer who threw the apple smiled proudly.
"He's a genuinely amusing fellow."
"It's quite rare for a knight to live outside the fortress walls, too."
"That's true, hehe."
For three whole years, rain or shine, not a single day missed—who wouldn't want to cheer for a man running like that? They didn't know what his goal was, but...
"He's bound to make something of himself."
The farmers firmly believed so.
"—For real. This year, I'm definitely turning in my resignation!"
*Crunch!* The man—no, Lee Han—took a massive bite out of the apple, hyping himself up for the day as well.
His goal: retirement. He was itching to retire.
* * *
Lee Han ran today as well.
But he wasn't just running. His goal was to complete a 20km run, and the objective was to finish it within one hour.
That didn't mean he was sprinting recklessly, though. The benchmark was to run stably for an hour while maintaining a consistent pace, and strapped to his wrists and ankles were sandbags.
Exactly 10 kilograms each. This was to increase the burden on his body, and sometimes, he even ran while wearing armor.
*Thud, thud.*
Perhaps because of this, every time he moved, a heavy booming sound echoed from the ground. The burden had doubled, yet instead of fretting over the weight, he pushed his body to move once more.
The run was merely over; there was still much left to do.
"Hah."
A pull-up bar stood in one corner of the vacant lot. Lee Han grabbed the bar and immediately—
"Heup!"
Pull-ups. He repeated the motion of ascending and descending without rest, maintaining perfect form. Biceps, latissimus dorsi, erector spinae—along with countless other muscles, they were stimulated and twitched. He heightened his concentration to feel the movement of his muscles down to the micro-unit.
This is the body I use, and these are the muscles within my body. How the muscles are engaged, when they receive stronger stimulation, and how to utilize them—he had to contemplate and contemplate again. Merely building strength mindlessly was out of the question.
'I might not be able to move in millimeter increments like that monster, but as long as I forge a body strong enough to withstand that bastard's blow, that's enough!'
As long as he had a goal, he couldn't afford to stop deliberating. At some point, he clamped a 20kg sandbag between his legs and strapped another 30kg onto his back. Pulling himself up once more, the intensified stimulation and muscular trembling felt exceedingly dramatic.
*Creak, creak.*
It was an iron bar unlikely to scream, but faced with an hour of non-stop, high-intensity pull-ups, even the bar seemed to waver.
...Or was it? Was it trying to bend because he was pulling too hard?
"...I should apply my strength moderately, honestly."
Even he thought he might be gripping a bit too brutishly. Lee Han slowly relaxed his grip and descended to the ground. Upon concluding the grueling 90-minute pull-up session, sweat evaporated from his body like steam, and heat radiated off him. The sweat had formed puddles, and the muscles all over his body, squeezed to their absolute limits, trembled violently.
Running without rest, tensing the body without rest. This entire sequence placed an enormous burden on him. Even for a knight, such extreme exercise could inflict a massive toll on the body.
"Grrrrgh!"
Yet, Lee Han only loosened up with a few stretches, showing no intention of actually resting his body. Without hesitation, he hoisted a log lying in the yard onto his shoulders, treating it like a barbell.
Just bearing the 100kg log on his shoulders was a massive burden, but Lee Han took it a step further and lowered his stance.
Squats. There was no better exercise for training lower body strength, but neither was there one as agonizing as this. He repeated the motion: holding the seated position, then rising.
At some point, a searing pain surged through his thighs as if they were on fire, but he did not stop.
Just as with the pull-ups, Lee Han performed his strength training like cardio, and his cardio like strength training. It was outright barbaric—an expert would have deemed it a reckless method undertaken with the intent to destroy one's own body.
*Thud!*
The 70-minute long, hellish torture of squats finally ended, and Lee Han carefully set the log down. He would have loved to just toss it, but if it broke, he'd have to scour the area for a replacement. Thus, he had to regain his senses rather than succumb to the momentary impulse.
"Cough!"
A sudden cough left a metallic taste in his mouth. He had sustained internal injuries. Given the insane, over-the-top nature of the training, it would have been stranger if he hadn't gotten hurt.
Even prestigious knight households didn't train this brutishly. They always kept professional healers or priests on standby, or used their family's secret medicinal herbs to recover from injuries and restore stamina during training.
In truth, Lee Han's workout was nothing short of self-torture masquerading as training. A self-harming activity that ravaged the body. Barbaric? No, it was just plain crazy.
However, it wasn't because Lee Han was actually insane or thoughtless that he undertook such training. Rather—
"His regenerative ability is seriously like a troll's."
He committed such madness because he had something to rely on. Lee Han abruptly began to consume the food from his backpack. He had no intention of seeking out a priest; he was just blindly stuffing food into his mouth.
*Chew, chew.* He chewed with all his might. Rather than swallowing the food whole, he chewed it as if pulverizing it, determined to absorb every ounce of nutrients within the food.
The food he consumed consisted of: 1kg of chicken (boiled in water with all the skin removed, of course), broccoli and nuts, boiled and steamed potatoes and cabbage, and so on. The epitome of health food.
Naturally, it was tasteless. He only added the bare minimum of salt or seasoning. He was eating purely for the health benefits, certainly not for the flavor.
Yet, the food restored Lee Han's body as if the rarest of recovery potions had been sprinkled over it instead of seasoning.
*Creak, creak.*
At some point, the trembling of his muscles vanished, and color returned to his pale face. Though not visible on the outside, the throbbing in his knees and the explosive internal injuries were healed in an instant.
That regenerative ability was reminiscent of a terrifying magical beast's recovery. A magical beast also known as the terror of the forest, the maneater. A troll. It matched that monster's regenerative ability.
And this was entirely accurate. In the past, after being captured by a sorcerer, he underwent countless experiments. One of the magical beast factors he acquired through these experiments was none other than that of a troll.
Of course, it wasn't to the extent of a true troll, which could reattach or regenerate a severed head or arm. At most, his abilities consisted of rapid healing and recovery through nutrient absorption, and an exceptionally sturdy constitution.
Well, if any fitness fanatic had been present, they would have envied his ability to the point of jealousy. It meant that the moment he consumed nutrients, they were rapidly absorbed into his body. The absorption of nutrients occurred instantly, turning directly into blood and flesh. Even if he sustained external or internal injuries, he could recover from them right away, making it undeniably the ultimate ability for bodybuilding.
"Haaaaah...!"
Confirming that his stamina and all his pain had been restored and healed, Lee Han rose from his spot.
There were still three hours left before he had to report to work. In the meantime—
*Shring.*
*Swoosh! Whirr!*
He swung his sword. The Kingdom's basic swordsmanship. It was a fundamental style that involved slashing through the eight directions in sequence, a technique simple enough for a child to learn.
Lee Han could now perform it with his eyes closed, and likely execute it freely just by visualizing it. Yet, Lee Han did not blink even once, missing neither the trajectory of his sword nor the tip of his blade for even a fraction of a second.
How he wielded his sword, how the body wielding the sword exerted force, what he needed to do to exhibit greater strength, destructive power, agility, and so on—accompanied by endless contemplation, he executed the sword forms in sequence, seeking ways to further improve.
And at some point, his sword—a mere standard longsword—grew incredibly fast and sharp, reaching a point where it seemed to tear through the wind. Eventually, his swings became so swift that they didn't even produce a sound of parting the air; only the silver gleam reflecting off the blade barely indicated that the sword was moving at all.
*Swish, slice!*
Every time he swung his sword, clouds of dust billowed, and gashes were carved into the earth.
And finally—
*Kwaaang!*
When he stomped the ground fiercely and swung his sword with every ounce of strength in his body, the earthen floor exploded, forming a small crater shaped like a hollow.
*Patter.*
Clods of earth and stone fragments launched into the sky by the shockwave rained down, covering him in dirt. Yet, despite it all—
"...Can't I swing it even stronger than this?"
He merely frowned, seemingly still unsatisfied.
The path to retirement was proving to be long and arduous.