Joo-won's eyes darted from scroll to scroll. His head spinned at the sheer number of martial arts scriptures lining the shelves.

Each page promised incredible power, but where to even start?

He turned to Hanjjokkom. The ethereal being hovered nearby. "Hey, um... can I take some of these home to study?"

Hanjjokkom's expression softened. "I'm afraid not, young one. These scriptures are far too precious – and dangerous – to leave the tower's protection. Besides," it added with a hint of amusement, "you haven't exactly proven yourself capable of guarding cosmic secrets just yet."

Joo-won's shoulders slumped.

"Fair enough. So how does this work? Do I just... hang out here forever?"

"Not quite. You see, time flows differently here. There’s only a limited time you can spend here. You've already spent ten years training last time, though it likely felt like mere days to you."

Joo-won's jaw dropped.

The guardian nodded. "Which means you have about twenty more before you need to leave. We can't risk drawing unwanted attention from those who'd love to get their hands on the tower's treasures."

"And then what?" Joo-won asked, his mind reeling. "I just get kicked out?"

"More or less," Hanjjokkom confirmed. "But don't worry – thirty years here is only about three hours in the outside world. You can come back after a few months have passed out there. The interval is necessary to prevent the primordial energy from the cube leaking and being noticed by the Gods"

"Wait, how come I don't look like an old man? I’ve been here last time for 10 years, I should at least look older…"

Hanjjokkom's form shimmered with silent laughter. "The energy here is... special. It nourishes your body, keeps you young. Even the gods envy this place."

Joo-won fell silent, weighing his options. Stay and train in this incredible place, or head back to face the challenges waiting in the real world? After a moment, determination glinted in his eyes.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's make these next twenty years count. Where do we start?"

Joo-won threw himself into training with a passion that surprised even Hanjjokkom. Fifteen years flew by in a blur of sweat, aching muscles, and countless scrolls. Under the guardian's watchful eye, Joo-won tackled three distinct martial arts techniques, each more challenging than the last.

First came the Divine Blossom.

Joo-won spent months just learning how to move like water, his body flowing from stance to stance with increasing grace. The technique demanded precision, adaptability, and lightning-fast reflexes.

Joo-won dreamed of emulating the legendary swordsman Zhiyang, known for felling opponents with a single, perfect strike. While mastery remained frustratingly out of reach, Joo-won could feel the power building within him, waiting to be unleashed.

Next, the Frostfire Aura.

This technique was a delicate dance of opposites – ice and fire intertwining to create something greater than the sum of its parts. Joo-won's concoctions grew more potent, his elixirs more refined. He even managed to channel the Frostfire Aura in combat, his strikes alternating between searing heat and bone-chilling cold. It wasn't quite "defeat your enemies with a snap of your fingers" level, but it was progress.

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Finally, there was the Thunderous Roar.

This one was... different. Joo-won spent weeks just learning how to channel his qi into his voice without sounding like a cat being strangled. When he finally managed to produce a sound wave strong enough to shatter a nearby vase, his triumphant yell nearly deafened poor Hanjjokkom. The technique promised devastating offensive power and an impenetrable defense, if he could just master it.

But as the years wore on, a harsh truth began to dawn on Joo-won.

His body, for all its training, simply wasn't cut out for these high-level techniques. His qi reserves remained stubbornly low, and his physique seemed to actively resist the demands of true martial mastery.

Frustration gnawed at him.

He'd push himself to exhaustion. Some nights, he'd curl up in his quarters, wondering if he should just give up.

But every morning, he'd drag himself back to the training grounds.

"I'll find my path. Even if I have to invent a whole new martial art to do it."

Joo-won's life in the tower fell into a rhythm as predictable as the tides, yet each day brought new challenges and discoveries. He'd drag himself out of bed before the first hint of dawn touched the sky.

First came cultivation. He'd sit cross-legged, breathing deeply, coaxing the tower's dense energy into his stubborn body. Some days it felt like trying to fill a sieve, but he persevered, grasping at every wisp of power he could.

The alchemy lab became his second home.

Surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and shelves crammed with mysterious ingredients, Joo-won found his element. Where martial arts had frustrated him, alchemy sang to his soul. His mind devoured recipes, memorizing complex formulas after just a few tries. Soon, the lab was filled with vials of shimmering potions.

But Joo-won couldn't let go of his martial dreams entirely.

The Hollylock Blade Technique called to him, its graceful movements reminding him of the flowers that once bloomed in his clan's lands. He'd spend hours in the practice yard, his blade tracing arcs through the air, trying to capture the essence of a hollylock swaying in the breeze.

Progress was slow, maddeningly so at times.

But as the years passed, Joo-won felt something shift. His movements became more fluid, his strikes more precise. The blade began to feel like an extension of his arm, responding to his thoughts as much as his muscles.

The day he entered the Major Accomplishment of the Hollylock Blade Technique, Joo-won couldn't stop grinning.

It wasn't mastery, not by a long shot, but it was progress. Real, tangible progress.

That night, as he collapsed into bed, exhausted but exhilarated, Joo-won's thoughts drifted to his clan. To the poisoned land waiting for him back home.

"I'm getting stronger," he whispered to the darkness. "I'll find a way to save you all. I promise."

…

As Joo-won stepped out of the tower, a mixture of emotions swirled in his chest. Pride in how far he'd come warred with a gnawing disappointment.

Eight stages of the Human Class... not bad, but not great either.

He couldn't help but think of the prodigies who'd rocketed to Expert level, or even the average cultivator who'd at least made it to Soldier Class with the time given to them.

"Some cultivator I turned out to be," he muttered.

Hanjjokkom's voice echoed. "Your path is different, Joo-won. Martial arts may not be your forte, but your alchemy skills? Those are something special. Even a self-proclaimed 'dunce' like you can shine like a genius in your world with what you've learned here."

Joo-won managed a small smile. At least he had that going for him.

The tower's magic thrummed, assessing his achievements.

Suddenly, objects materialized before him: a gleaming cauldron, a chunk of metal that seemed to hum with power, and enough of another strange material to forge a full set of armor and a blade.

"The Cheonryong Jeongryeok cauldron," Hanjjokkom explained. "It'll supercharge any potion you brew. And that Eternal Winter metal? Sharper than a dragon's tooth and twice as durable."

Joo-won's eyes widened. These weren't consolation prizes – they were tools that could change everything.

As he exited the tower, It will take three months until he could return inside. He couldn't waste a single day. He pulled out the seeds he'd been gifted, and laid them on his desk: the sun-powered Essence Seed, the purifying Moonlight Flower, and the protective Copperleaf.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what this alchemist can really do."