By now, Murphy had begun to understand the pattern behind the Immortal Cultivation System's options.
Option one was always something he couldn't complete—something utterly impossible, an option he could only covet from afar.
Option two, however, was achievable, but only with hard work. Getting something for nothing was out of the question.
While this might seem a bit underwhelming, Murphy was keenly aware that in this world, there were far too many instances where effort yielded no reward.
The fact that the Immortal Cultivation System guaranteed a reward for his efforts—and a rather high rate of return at that—was already a massive win.
'I'll just lay low for now,' Murphy thought. 'I definitely can't pick option one. Who knows what kind of severe consequences would follow if I did.'
'I'll stick with option two. Cultivation is a long journey toward immortality, so I'm in no rush. A year or two is nothing.'
...
And just like that, almost a year passed. He was now only fifteen days away from receiving the reward for option two.
Murphy had also become very familiar with Hank, the Groom dedicated to caring for Yor's horse.
Hank was quite surprised by how quickly Murphy learned the ropes. He had expected that training a newcomer would be a huge hassle and that he would be in for a rough time.
As it turned out, Hank only needed to demonstrate most techniques once for Murphy to replicate them competently. Within half a month, the boy could already handle most of the daily chores independently.
This made the old, white-haired Groom very glad to have Murphy around.
After all, a follower's warhorse typically required two people to look after it. Lord Yor's other Groom had retired due to old age, and with no suitable child to take his place, the position had been empty.
The temporary Groom brought in from the public stables had spent too long caring for draft horses and didn't appreciate the delicate nature of a follower's steed. He wasn't nearly as good as Murphy, which had made Hank's work much more tiring.
Now that Murphy was there to share the load, he was naturally relieved.
This was no exaggeration. In the inner courtyard, each of the seven Knights' warhorses was tended to by a full team of five people.
One person was dedicated to brushing, one to feeding, one to mucking out the stall, one to mixing fodder, and one more was always on standby for any emergencies.
Two people caring for a follower's horse was already a small crew by comparison.
Every day, a small portion of the fine feed—high-quality oats, plump soybeans, dried minnows, and the like, all of which should have been poured into the trough—was quietly held back.
This protein-rich surplus ultimately found its way into Murphy's and Hank's stomachs.
Whenever this happened, the two would exchange a knowing smile.
To be more precise, it wasn't really a "Deduction." After all, the warhorses were all fed until they were strong and sleek. The so-called "Deduction" was merely a matter of reporting slightly higher spoilage in the ledgers.
They both understood the unwritten rule: you could never under-report, and you certainly couldn't be perfectly accurate. Especially after the border war, under-reporting would only mean that the next year's allocation of feed would be even smaller.
If an emergency occurred, there would be no reserves to fall back on.
It was like managing the barony's finances—you always had to pad the budget.
Thanks to this extra protein, Murphy, who was in the middle of a growth spurt, grew stronger by the day. His height shot up to over five feet three inches.
His increasingly robust physique allowed him to better apply the Horse Trainer knowledge in his mind, making him more and more adept at his work.
He had peeked into the public stables before and saw that the draft horses, and even the common warhorses, received none of the special treatment afforded to a follower's steed.
This made him feel a certain gratitude toward Yor.
During this time, Murphy never saw the man who was supposed to be his eldest uncle—the one said to have inherited Grandfather George's position in the castle. Upon asking around, he learned his uncle had died of a sudden, virulent illness.
This wasn't surprising. That was just how this world was. An illness that would have been minor in his previous life could easily be fatal here if one wasn't careful.
Occasionally, Murphy would run into Tom, who was now a servant in the laundry.
This was the same neighbor who, once half a head taller and from a slightly better-off family, had often bullied him. Now, he was stuck with the backbreaking labor of the laundry.
The women there washed regular clothing, while the men were tasked with cleaning items like the Plate Armor of followers and Knights, as well as heavy canvas sheets.
These items weren't just incredibly heavy; cleaning them was a complex and physically draining process, making it one of the most grueling jobs in the castle.
Despite this arduous labor, Tom's physique had barely changed compared to six months ago.
The same went for Jack and Will, whom he sometimes saw in the distance; their growth seemed to have stagnated as well.
One day, as Murphy was carrying a bundle of hay past the laundry, Tom immediately dropped the heavy clothes in his hands and scurried over. "Murphy," he said, "uh... need a hand?"
Murphy shot him a look. "You weren't this polite back when you were stealing the firewood I'd gathered."
Tom's tanned face flushed red. "I was wrong back then. It's tiring here in the castle, but at least I get one full meal a day. But... just one isn't..."
Murphy shifted the hay to his other arm. "Good. You should be grateful you get even one full meal."
Tom nodded eagerly, trying to curry favor. "Let me carry that for you?" he offered, reaching for the hay.
Murphy sidestepped him. "No need. Just take care of yourself."
With that, he walked on.
Tom stood frozen, watching Murphy's upright figure walk away. He lowered his head in silence and returned to the pile of heavy, cold-water-soaked laundry, resuming his forceful scrubbing.
Of course, the ones who had changed the most were the boys selected to become followers.
Walter, the blacksmith's son; Jimmy, a follower's son; Leo, the Mill Master's son; and the others had already been stronger and taller than Murphy to begin with.
Now, they were shooting up like bamboo after a spring rain. Every one of them was over five-foot-eleven, with tall, sturdy frames.
They could lift a training stone lock with one hand that a Groom would need two hands to move. They could effortlessly swing a twenty-pound, two-handed training sword, striking over a hundred times in a row.
And that wasn't even the most incredible part.
The Plate Armor Knight, Glen, who had overseen the recruitment tests, wore his suit of armor—weighing at least seventy or eighty pounds—at nearly all times, yet his movements were completely unhindered. He was practically inhuman.
When Murphy occasionally overheard the followers talking, he would catch terms like "Life Energy" and "Life Seed," proving that Extraordinary Power truly existed in this world.
'It makes sense,' he thought. 'After all, the system calls this place Lingyun Pavilion, which is equivalent to a Mortal Martial World, a realm just below a full-fledged Cultivation World. It's not surprising that it has some unique aspects.'
This made Murphy all the more eager to see what changes the [Slightly Accomplished] level in Horse Trainer would bring.
The last time, [Initial Glimpse] had enhanced his strength and reflexes, enabling him to pass the taming test. This time, there would surely be another boost.
It probably wouldn't be like the [Building Strength and Endurance (Slightly Accomplished)] from option one, which sounded like it was specifically for Body Refining and would grant a massive boost.
'But it has to be better than normal physical development, right?'
He vaguely understood that the system's [Initial Glimpse] and [Slightly Accomplished] levels represented the minimum physical attributes needed to utilize the skills of that realm, not the maximum potential.
As long as you could perform the skill, the system didn't care if you could perform it to its fullest extent.
Therefore, as his physique had improved over the past year, so had his skill in caring for the horses.
Still, he returned to the same thought: '[Slightly Accomplished] can't possibly be worse than normal physical development, can it?'
However, a worry lingered in Murphy's mind: everything was going too smoothly. He recalled the first choice, which he had only completed by exhausting every ounce of his strength.
If he had slacked off for even a moment back then, he would have collapsed in the mud, never to get back up, and would have failed to complete that option.
But this current task, while difficult, hadn't pushed him to the point of utter exhaustion.
'Could it be that there's some kind of twist waiting at the end?'
'Maybe I'm overthinking it,' Murphy thought. 'There might not be any twist at all.'
'After all, I've only been through one complete cycle. The sample size is too small. How can I be so certain?'
「Two days later.」
All the servants in Baron Duval's Castle received an urgent directive.
An important dignitary was about to arrive, and the entire castle, inside and out, had to be thoroughly cleaned in preparation.
Even the stables had to be spotless. Every stall was to be rinsed with fresh water three times, all fodder replaced with the freshest available, every piece of tack polished to a brilliant shine, and even the horses' hooves meticulously cleaned.
Murphy frowned inwardly upon hearing these demands.
He knew from the knowledge granted by his system that drastic changes in humidity were the worst thing for a stable environment. Repeatedly washing down the stalls like this was terrible for the warhorses' hooves and respiratory systems.
It was just like how a person would get sick from living in a damp place for too long.
But he was well aware of his lowly status. His concerns would be ignored even if he voiced them. All he could do was quietly consider how he could provide extra-meticulous care afterward to mitigate the negative effects on the warhorses.
This wasn't just for Yor or Baron Duval's sake; it was to ensure his own "perks" weren't jeopardized by any mishaps.
More importantly, Murphy keenly realized that this sudden event was most likely the true challenge hidden within the system's option.
His peaceful life as a Groom, which had gone so smoothly for nearly a year, was finally coming to an end.