Transaction

Unlike what he had imagined, the Mithril Body Tempering Method did not describe any method of tempering the physical body.

Compared to the body-tempering cultivation technique Roland had envisioned, it was more like a unique potion formula.

Its method of use was to grind various materials into powder, mix them evenly, and apply the mixture all over the body. Afterward,

"Afterward, it also needs to be combined with a Breathing Technique for auxiliary cultivation. Otherwise, the effects will be greatly reduced?"

Seeing the final sentence at the end of the parchment, Roland could not help frowning. After a moment, he sighed and consoled himself.

"Even if the effects are worse, they're still better than nothing. As for a Breathing Technique, how could I possibly come into contact with something like that with my current status?"

Muttering under his breath, he carefully copied each medicinal ingredient required by the potion formula onto a scrap of cloth.

"Silverleaf Grass, Nightshade Vine, and so on. But what exactly is this Silver Dust?"

He was familiar with the several ingredients listed earlier.

When the Original Body's father had fallen ill, the Original Body had often run errands to buy these medicinal ingredients. Although they were expensive, they were at least fairly common.

But he had never even heard of this Silver Dust.

Worse still, Silver Dust made up a huge proportion of the formula, practically serving as one of its main ingredients.

"Tsk."

Roland clicked his tongue softly and shook his head helplessly.

When he had first discovered this scroll containing the Mithril Body Tempering Method, he had been extremely excited.

According to the description on the parchment, cultivation would not only greatly increase his strength but also enhance his body's resistance to blows, perfectly making up for his current weakness.

Moreover, he was still short of a little Strength to change class and become a Blacksmith.

"Forget it."

Seeing the sky outside darkening, Roland rubbed his empty stomach.

"I'd better fill my stomach first before studying the Body Tempering Method."

With that thought, Roland pushed open the door and headed toward the dining hall.

Some time had already passed since the dinner bell.

Thus, when he arrived, the usually bustling dining hall was nearly deserted. Only a solitary figure sat on a bench, mechanically chewing food that had already gone cold.

"Mister Bronson?"

After recognizing the man, a flicker of delight appeared in Roland's eyes.

Although he had known this reserved teacher for only three days, Roland could tell from his words and mannerisms that he possessed extremely extensive knowledge.

Perhaps he'll know what Silver Dust is.

With that expectation, Roland filled a bowl with the little cold food that remained and sat down beside Bronson of his own accord.

"Mister Bronson, why are you eating so late today?"

"Hm?"

Bronson looked up at the sound. When he saw that it was Roland, he forced the corners of his mouth into a tired smile.

He slowly swallowed the food in his mouth before replying in a gentle yet weary voice.

"You're late too. Were you focused on studying?"

After dipping the hard black bread into the meat broth left over from noon, Roland answered,

"Yes, Mister Bronson. I spent the entire afternoon studying the novel you handed out."

"I see."

Bronson gazed at the knowledge-hungry youth before him, a trace of guilt flashing through his eyes.

"Because I received the notice unexpectedly, I wasn't able to prepare suitable textbooks for you all. I'm sorry for the trouble."

"It's all right, Mister Bronson."

Roland swallowed the food in his mouth. After hesitating for a moment, he asked,

"It's just that the novel mentioned something that made me curious. It was called 'Silver Dust.' Do you know what that is?"

"Silver Dust?"

At those words, Bronson's movements visibly paused.

He tilted his head slightly upward, his gaze becoming distant, as if he had fallen into some faraway memory.

The dim yellow light in the dining hall cast varying shades of shadow across his face.

Only after a moment did he slowly speak.

"It's a common material used in alchemy. However..."

He turned his head, raising his brows slightly as he revealed a meaningful smile.

"But specialized knowledge involving alchemical techniques shouldn't appear in a novel meant for entertainment, should it?"

"Uh, well..."

Facing Bronson's eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through everything, Roland's hand froze in midair around his wooden spoon.

He suddenly realized that this usually frail and reserved teacher did not seem as simple as he appeared.

After instinctively scratching his head, Roland's Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

"Don't be nervous."

Bronson withdrew his sharp gaze and picked up his wooden spoon again.

"Everyone has their own secrets. I don't like prying into them."

He stirred the thick soup in his bowl leisurely.

"So... you need Silver Dust?"

"Yes, I do."

Now that the other party had laid everything bare, Roland stopped hiding anything and nodded solemnly.

Seeing this, the corners of Bronson's mouth lifted slightly.

"I do have some on hand, but..."

"What do you need me to do?"

Roland asked directly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rough edge of the wooden table.

"Heh."

Bronson chuckled, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes smoothing out.

"Mister Hawk was right. You really are clever."

He set down his utensils and folded his hands on the table.

"I need a dagger made to order. I've heard that your smithing skills are quite outstanding."

"A dagger?"

Roland was slightly taken aback.

He had expected to face some harsh condition. He had not imagined that it would merely involve forging a dagger.

At his current level, that would be incredibly easy.

But then a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

Hawk's smithing skills were clearly far superior to his own, and the two of them seemed fairly familiar with each other. Why would Bronson take such a roundabout route?

As if he had seen through Roland's doubts, a bitter smile appeared at the corners of Bronson's mouth.

"I really can't afford Hawk's wages."

He explained softly, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Roland watched Bronson's slightly lowered eyelids. Although he still felt that this reason was somewhat unconvincing, he slowly nodded.

"Forging it won't be a problem, but Mister Hawk stipulated that until I pass the Knowledge Test, I'm not allowed to enter the Blacksmith shop or use any of its equipment."

"Then... are you confident that you can pass the test?"

Although he did not receive an immediate response, Bronson noticed that not the slightest trace of dejection appeared in Roland's eyes. He nodded meaningfully.

"Eat first. Come with me after you're done."

Seeing that Bronson had nothing more to say, Roland also fell silent and focused on finishing the food remaining on his plate.

The already-empty dining hall seemed even more desolate now. Only the occasional crisp clatter of utensils echoed through the room.

"Let's go."

A moment later, when Roland set down his utensils, Bronson calmly took a silk handkerchief from inside his clothes and elegantly wiped the corner of his lips. He then rose first and walked outside.

Roland hurried after him.

The two passed through winding corridors and eventually arrived at the most remote corner of the manor.

Under the moonlight, a dilapidated little cottage stood there all alone.

"Wait outside for me."

The instant Bronson pushed open the door, an indescribable odor rushed toward them.

Through the crack in the door, Roland caught a glimpse of the interior.

Books were scattered across the floor, leaving almost nowhere to step, while various oddly shaped tools were arranged on a mottled wooden table at the far end.

Just as Roland tried to make out more details, the door had already closed.

When Bronson appeared again, he held a cloth bag tied shut with a silver ribbon.

"This is the Silver Dust you wanted. As for this..."

He took another sheet of paper from inside his clothes. Its edges were already badly worn.

"This is the dagger's design. I hope to receive the finished product within three months."

The corners of Bronson's mouth curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

"I'm sure you won't disappoint me, will you?"

The moonlight cast a cold-toned shadow over his face.

Roland stared at him for a moment before finally nodding solemnly.