Eat More, Poop More, Train More

While Cole was still clanging away at the iron pot, Tylen had already started renovating the kitchen.

First, he scrubbed the dust-caked old stove until it gleamed, then carefully lined up its exhaust pipe with the ventilation shaft the Morgue had originally used to vent the stench of corpses.

"Perfect."

Tylen dusted off his hands, admiring his handiwork with satisfaction.

Next, he dug an unused wooden tabletop out of a corner and set it on the counter to use as a cutting board.

Then he took out the Bone-Cleaving Knife he'd confiscated from the thugs yesterday and carefully sharpened it on a whetstone until its blade gleamed with a chilling light in the candlelight.

Everything was ready. Time to prep the ingredients.

Tylen thoroughly washed each of the ingredients he'd just bought.

He peeled the onions and sliced them into strips.

He cut the pork belly into strips two fingers wide.

He sliced the pork skin into large pieces to grease the wok.

Boosted by the thirtyfold efficiency of [Slacker Saint Body], the Bone-Cleaving Knife in Tylen's hand became a silver whirlwind.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

The dense chopping sounds echoed through the basement. As for the knife work, it might not have been especially precise, but in terms of speed alone, it rivaled a chef at a five-star hotel.

In less than three minutes, all the ingredients had been prepared and neatly arranged on the board.

Tylen was a pretty good cook.

In his previous life, his parents had been busy making a living, so he'd been a latchkey kid who cooked for himself from a young age.

In college, he often secretly used prohibited appliances to cook in his dorm, trying to get on the good side of his wealthy roommate. His cooking was so good that his roommates kept calling him "Daddy."

Later, in grad school, he'd used his excellent cooking to win his way into his advisor's family, becoming the "good kid" in his advisor's wife's eyes.

"Too bad I have so few ingredients, and salt's the only seasoning."

Looking over the ingredients, Tylen silently considered his options.

"Then I'll make the simplest dish—stir-fried pork with onions."

It was a home-style dish he'd learned from his mother.

First, boil the pork belly and tear it into strips. Then stir-fry it in lard and add plenty of onions at the end for flavor.

It was simple, but the combined aroma of the meat and onions was the perfect accompaniment to rice.

"The only downside is that I don't have any scallions, so I'll have to make do with onions."

After prepping the ingredients, Tylen casually picked up a carrot and crunched on it, replenishing his vitamins.

He didn't waste any time while he ate. With his left hand, he picked up the hefty Alchemy Basics and bent over it, continuing to study.

Time passed, minute by minute.

Ten in the morning.

Cole's booming voice came from outside the window.

All the laborers in the Menial Worker District were wary of going into the Morgue, afraid they'd catch bad luck.

"Little Ma! The pot's ready!"

Tylen put down his book and hurried out.

Cole was swinging a black iron contraption in his hand.

It was about thirty centimeters across and fifteen deep. Though the rim was uneven and it wasn't exactly round, it was still a usable wok.

A sturdy wooden handle, taken from an old, beat-up carriage, had been fixed in place with two hefty iron nails. It looked quite sturdy.

"Thanks, Cole!"

Tylen happily took the wok. It was far from smooth and even a little ugly, but having one of these in another world was already a rare luxury.

Back in the Morgue, Tylen quickly washed the new wok.

Then he grabbed some wood and coal from the kitchen and lit the stove.

Flames leaped up, and he set the iron wok on top.

Once the wok was hot, he pressed the pork skin, still bearing some fat, against the bottom and rubbed it back and forth, rendering out the grease.

Sizzle, sizzle...

As the temperature rose and the fat seeped out, a gleaming layer of grease gradually formed across the bottom of the once-black wok.

A few minutes later, Tylen tossed the useless pork skin into the drain.

By then, the iron wok had been thoroughly seasoned with lard and gleamed with oil.

Next, he added water and boiled the meat.

Twenty minutes later, the aroma of meat began to fill the air.

Tylen fished out the boiled pork belly and let it cool slightly, then deftly cut it into strips about the size of his index finger.

He poured out the cooking water and reheated the wok.

In went the lard. He heated it up.

Then the strips of meat went in.

Sizzle!!!

The explosive sound made Tylen, as he stirred the food, feel as if he'd been transported to another life.

Tylen's wrist flicked back and forth as he stir-fried with the Bone-Cleaving Knife, bent into a makeshift spatula.

Once the pork belly had turned golden and crisp, rendering out its excess fat, he grabbed a large handful of onion strips and tossed them in.

Then he sprinkled in a handful of coarse salt.

He stir-fried everything over high heat!

The onions quickly lost their moisture in the heat, releasing a rich sweetness that blended perfectly with the savory aroma of the crisped meat.

The overpowering fragrance instantly filled the entire basement, completely smothering the usual smells of chemical reagents and decaying corpses.

"Time to plate!"

Tylen scooped the stir-fry onto a plate.

He couldn't wait. Pinching up a strip of golden, crispy pork belly with his fingers, with a tender, flavorful piece of onion clinging to it, he popped it into his mouth.

Crunch.

The fat burst across his palate. The onions' sweetness balanced the meat's richness, while the salt brought out the ingredients' natural flavor.

In that instant, Tylen felt as though he'd traveled through time.

He was back on Earth, where there was takeout, night markets, and the warmth of everyday life... and, most importantly, where he'd already beaten the game of life.

"Phew..."

Tylen closed his eyes, his face brimming with satisfaction.

It felt as though every pore on his body had opened up, and all his mental fatigue had vanished.

"Now this is a proper meal!"

He ate half a pound of meat before finally stopping, still wanting more.

He finished stir-frying the remaining meat and onions, covered them with a clean cloth, and put them away with the wok in the cold storage room, where the temperature was magically maintained.

Nutrients replenished.

Tylen wiped his mouth, his gaze sharpening once more.

"Now that I'm full, it's time to get down to business."

He picked up the Purple Diamond Carving Knife and continued practicing carving runes into bone.

Two hours later, it was noon.

After the equivalent of sixty hours of intense practice, Tylen had grown completely accustomed to carving runes into bone, and his speed had increased more than tenfold compared to last night.

Tylen put down the carving knife and flexed his stiff wrist.

"Let's begin. My first physical enhancement workout."

He took off his shirt, revealing a body as skinny as a skeleton.

Squats.

"One, two, three..."

By the sixth squat, Tylen's legs were already trembling, and his lungs wheezed like bellows.

This body was just too weak.

He rested for a dozen seconds, then continued.

Push-ups.

He'd barely done two, and before he could push himself up from the third, both arms started shaking like a butterfly's wings.

"Up... Get up, damn it!"

Tylen gritted his teeth, his face red with effort, and forced himself back up.

When his arms gave out, he switched to his legs.

Squats, push-ups, squats, push-ups...

Over and over.

Just ten minutes later,

Tylen was sprawled on the floor like a dead dog. Every muscle in his body was screaming, and the pain was so intense that moving even a finger took everything he had.

But he didn't dare rest.

"Don't stop! If I stop now, all my effort will have been for nothing!"

"I have to stretch! I need to prevent muscle knots and cramps!"

Tylen struggled to his feet and started stretching.

He grabbed his ankle and pulled it back hard.

"F-fuck!!"

In that instant, the fascia along the front of his thigh stretched taut, and the searing pain brought tears springing from the corners of his eyes.

It hurt so much!

It felt as though someone were ripping his muscle fibers apart.

"God, that hurts! Just a little break! Just one second..."

His natural laziness whispered in his ear like a devil.

But the next moment, Tylen's deeply ingrained workaholic instincts mercilessly crushed the thought.

"Rest my ass! If you can't handle this much pain, how do you expect to become a Wizard? Do you even want to survive?!"

He gritted his teeth and held the twisted pose.

However,

Just as he was still struggling against the pain, he suddenly froze.

"Hm?"

"Why... doesn't it hurt anymore?"

He clearly remembered that he'd been holding the stretch for less than twenty seconds.

Normally, the pain from a stretch like this should last at least a minute before easing.

"Wait!"

Tylen's eyes flew open as a flash of insight crossed his mind.

"Could stretching be thirty times more efficient, too?!"

If that was the case...

Twenty seconds would be equivalent to ten minutes for an ordinary person!

At the thought, Tylen's despair and pain gave way to a sudden burst of energy.

He immediately switched legs and began stretching his right leg.

This time, instead of resisting, he focused on how it felt.

The first few seconds were indeed extremely painful. Sweat poured off him as his muscles tensed.

But as the seconds passed, the sharp pain quickly faded, replaced by a warm, loosening sensation.

It was like a tightly stretched rubber band slowly softening and relaxing in hot water.

Once he'd finished stretching both legs,

Tylen stood up and tentatively kicked his legs.

Light!

Incredibly light!

The previous stiff, heavy feeling had completely disappeared. His legs seemed to have been infused with new energy and were even more flexible than before the workout.

"Awesome!"

Tylen couldn't help punching the air.

"The instant feedback of growing stronger right after going through that much pain is so damn satisfying!"

It was like playing a game: beat a monster, level up, and refill your health bar.

That positive feedback loop was downright addictive!

Tylen was completely fired up now.

Gritting his teeth, he started stretching muscles all over his body.

His arms, shoulders, lower back, lats...

Every muscle, every stretch, was another journey from hell to heaven.

Ten minutes later,

After the last muscle had been thoroughly stretched with thirtyfold efficiency,

An unprecedented feeling of lightness and comfort spread throughout Tylen's body.

He felt like a snake that had just shed its skin, reborn.

What surprised him even more was that,

In the brief ten minutes he'd spent stretching, the stamina he'd exhausted with his intense workout had already recovered almost completely.

"Just as I thought!"

Tylen clenched his fist, feeling his strength fill his body once more.

"Just like when I sleep, my body's recovery rate is thirty times faster!"

"Does that mean that if I get injured, my wounds will heal thirty times faster, too?"

"This is basically a low-budget, bargain-bin Wolverine!"

At the thought, Tylen's eyes shone with excitement.

Grrr...

Just then, a thunderous rumble from his stomach shattered his daydreams.

He was hungry.

Very, very hungry.

The hunger felt so intense it was as if his stomach lining itself was being digested.

The intense workout and hyper-speed recovery had burned through a huge amount of energy.

Without a word, Tylen grabbed two apples from the table and gobbled them down in a few crunching bites.

He was still hungry.

He hurried to the cafeteria and got two big pieces of black bread and a large bowl of thick bean soup.

Back in the morgue, he took out the onions and meat he'd fried.

He dipped the black bread in the meat broth, taking a bite of meat, a bite of onion, and a bite of bread.

Carbohydrates, protein, and fat.

The three macronutrients mingled with the familiar, delicious taste in his memories, slid down his esophagus into his stomach, and turned into waves of warmth that nourished his depleted body.

An indescribable sense of satisfaction and happiness welled up inside him.

After lunch.

Tylen didn't feel the usual post-meal drowsiness, that sluggish urge to lie around and do nothing.

On the contrary, he felt invigorated and sharply focused, and his body was so light it seemed ready to float.

"Looks like with this thirtyfold efficiency, my workout has boosted my metabolism and bodily functions."

Tylen thought it over:

"With my recovery rate thirty times faster, I could even do three high-intensity workouts a day!"

"One in the morning, one at noon, and one in the evening. Each workout, including stretching, would only take about twenty minutes!"

"At this rate, my physical fitness will make a qualitative leap in less than half a month!"

At the thought, Tylen was raring to go.

But it was already noon, and time to get to work.

He picked up the prepared runic paper, went to the toilet, and took a long, satisfying dump, emptying his body of waste.

Eat more, poop more, work out more.

That was the secret to getting stronger.

After changing into the linen robe stained with the stench of corpses, Tylen climbed into his carriage and left the Wizard Tower.

Twenty minutes later.

At the Fine Wine Gang's warehouse.

Ars accepted the oil-paper package with a smile and pulled out several sheets of runic paper for a careful inspection.

The lines were smooth, the mana circuits clear, and the work was so neat it looked printed.

"Beautiful!"

Ars praised it, then happily handed over a Purple Gold Coin worth fifty:

"Here's your payment, brother Magnus. Your craftsmanship is impeccable."

Tylen took the money but didn't hurry off. Instead, he asked with a smile:

"Do you need any more?"

"Making these hundred is no trouble for us."

"If you need them, I can probably supply you with five hundred a day."

At the word "us," Ars's eyes flickered slightly.

He thought to himself:

"Looks like this kid's one of the leaders among the apprentices. He must have a bunch of underlings drawing Runic Frames for him."

"Makes sense. How could one person draw so many so quickly and so well?"

If he was a supplier with an organization behind him, he was an even better prospect to work with.

Ars immediately replied, "Sure thing!"

"Student Magnus, you should've said you had this kind of production capacity earlier!"

"We're short on Runic Frames right now. My young master has been practicing Runic Studies lately, and he's going through them like crazy."

"Wait here a moment."

Ars turned and walked deeper into the warehouse.

Ten minutes later.

A hulking man came out carrying a huge package on his back. He set it down with a heavy thump, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Ars patted the package and said:

"There are five hundred sheets of Blank Runic Paper in here."

"I want two hundred Karl Rune Frames and three hundred Ian Rune Frames."

"If you can keep up this quality, the price stays the same: fifty Purple Gold Coins per hundred."

Tylen looked at the huge package, his eyes curving into crescents as he smiled:

"No problem! I'll deliver them right on time tomorrow at noon!"

This order alone would bring in two hundred and fifty Purple Gold Coins!

With the five hundred Makley had given me, I finally have a little savings of my own.