Brawling

After an unknown amount of time, as the assessment deadline approached, the other apprentice youths began to finish the works in their hands.

Similar-looking greatswords were neatly arranged on the anvils before each of them, glinting sharply under the sunlight.

"Cough, cough, cough."

Mister Hawk cleared his throat a few times and stepped forward, inspecting the greatswords the youths had forged one by one.

However, it wasn't long before the old blacksmith's brow furrowed tighter and tighter, his face visibly flushing.

Perhaps out of consideration for Baron Foslin's presence, he didn't shout in anger as he usually would, but merely announced the results in a low voice, over and over again.

"The ore smelting temperature was too high, unqualified."

"The forging force was insufficient, unqualified."

"This sword of yours doesn't match the blueprint requirements, unqualified!"

Mister Hawk's breathing grew heavier, and his footsteps became more deliberate.

Before long, he arrived in front of Marco.

This blacksmith's disciple was not affected by Roland's smooth and flowing forging technique from earlier; instead, he straightened his back, meeting Mister Hawk's scrutiny with a determined gaze.

"Hmm."

Mister Hawk picked up the greatsword Marco had forged with one hand, brought it close to his eyes to examine it carefully, and remained silent for a long time.

Seeing this, a wave of confidence surged within Marco.

He knew that when Mister Hawk inspected the works of the previous apprentice youths, he often reached a conclusion after only two or three glances.

After a while, the old blacksmith slowly put down the greatsword in his hand and nodded slightly.

"Not bad. The forging force, rhythm, and impact points are all well-controlled. Only the ore's smelting temperature was slightly lacking, but..."

He paused.

"You pass."

"Thank you, Mister Hawk!"

Marco bowed gratefully and, as he straightened up, his gaze involuntarily flickered towards Roland beside him, his eyes filled with disdain and provocation.

In his opinion, over the past month, Roland had spent his days holding a strange dagger, carving inexplicable patterns on it with a file, and hadn't practiced his forging skills properly at all.

What good was talent if it wasn't tempered through constant practice?

Without accumulated effort, skills would only regress.

How could Roland possibly be better than him now?

As for Roland's astonishing forging speed just now, he dismissed it as a showmanship tactic.

After all, forging implements often required slow and meticulous work; excessive speed could actually affect the quality of the finished product.

With this thought, Marco turned and glanced at the group of youths who had failed the assessment, a cold snort escaping his nostrils.

His already straight back tensed a few more inches, and his chin lifted high, like a Mighty Lion showing off its victory.

However, in the very next moment, the pride in Marco's eyes suddenly froze, replaced by disbelief and astonishment.

Master Hawk slowly walked to Roland's anvil, tapped the sword body twice with his finger, then suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with surprise, and shouted loudly.

"Perfect! Qualified!"

"I declare Roland the winner of this assessment!"

As the words fell, a rare hint of a smile appeared on Hawk's usually stern face.

He reached out and patted Roland's shoulder, saying in a tone that was both gentle and authoritative, "Kid, now that you're under me, don't even think about slacking off. Work hard, understand?"

"Yes!"

Although Roland had anticipated this outcome after becoming a blacksmith, he couldn't help but feel excited.

Becoming a blacksmith apprentice directly under a noble meant not only receiving a stable monthly salary but also a significant improvement in his social status.

More importantly, it provided him with the opportunity to further hone his forging skills and continuously level up his Basic Forging Technique.

It was a win-win-win situation!

But just then, a voice twisted with anger suddenly rang out.

"Mister Hawk, this..."

Marco clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force, his entire body trembling with agitation.

He didn't even care about Baron Foslin's presence and directly shouted at Hawk.

"This is unfair!"

"How can his forging skills be better than mine? He's just a nobody! And my father is..."

Looking at the almost hysterical Marco before him, Hawk didn't get angry; instead, a hint of pity appeared in his eyes.

Truth be told, Marco's forging skills were indeed excellent.

If not for the genius Roland appearing out of nowhere, this apprentice spot would have been his.

But Hawk wouldn't go soft because of that.

Even though he had a good relationship with Marco's father, he could still distinguish between public and private matters.

"Shut up! You idiot!"

After Hawk roared, he immediately turned and bowed apologetically to Baron Foslin.

He then picked up two two-handed swords and put all his strength into his arms.

"Clang!"

With a crisp sound of metal striking metal, the two heavy blades slammed fiercely against each other.

In the sunlight, fine iron filings rained down.

Everyone looked closely.

The two-handed sword forged by Roland was still cold and sharp, with only a few shallow scratches on the edge.

Marco's sword, however, had a shocking chip on its blade.

Facts spoke louder than words; the superiority was self-evident.

"This... this is impossible..."

Marco stumbled back two steps, the color draining from his face, leaving it deathly pale.

During the forging just now, he had clearly performed beyond his usual level.

That should have been his most perfect masterpiece to date.

Yet, the result before him was like a heavy hammer, shattering his proud self-esteem.

He subconsciously looked at Roland. Although the other party wasn't looking at him at all, he felt as if he saw silent mockery.

The poisonous fire of jealousy churned in the sixteen-year-old boy's chest, almost burning away his reason.

His fingers clenched spasmodically around the hammer next to the anvil, but he suddenly sobered up when he caught sight of the fully armed guards beside Baron Foslin.

Marco took a deep breath and finally just lowered his head gloomily, suppressing the surging anger deep beneath his silence.

"Then..."

Seeing Marco remain silent, Hawk lightly patted his shoulder in comfort, then turned to the other aspiring apprentices and announced.

"Those who did not pass the assessment will pack their belongings and leave the estate before dark, understand?"

"Yes."

The youths responded dejectedly and one by one lowered their heads and left the blacksmith shop.

At this moment, Baron Foslin also rose from his high-backed chair and slowly walked to Hawk's side.

"Mister Hawk, since the assessment is over, I will take my leave first."

"Your Lordship is too kind."

As Hawk was about to bow, the Baron gently supported his arm.

The nobleman then turned to Roland and nodded approvingly.

"Well done, young man."

"Thank you for your praise, Your Lordship."

As Roland bowed, the Baron had already turned to leave.

Seeing this, Darko smiled and waved at Roland, then quickly followed his father's footsteps.

Why is this guy being so friendly to me?

As Roland pondered this, Hawk walked up to him.

The old blacksmith was clearly in a good mood, his gray beard twitching upwards with the corners of his mouth.

"Good lad! I knew I wasn't mistaken about you! Pack your things back at the dormitory later, then report to the blacksmith shop on the east side of the estate, understand?"

"Yes, Mister Hawk!"

"Hahaha."

Hawk lightly punched Roland's chest with his fist, then put his hands behind his back and hummed a tune as he leisurely walked away.

In the blink of an eye, only Roland was left in the originally bustling assessment area, and the surroundings suddenly became quiet.

At this moment, Roland could no longer suppress the excitement in his heart and clenched his fist tightly.

For a normal person to learn forging skills, it takes at least a year just to become a blacksmith apprentice. But with the help of my Profession Panel, I achieved this goal in just three months, and my forging skills are even more refined than those of ordinary apprentices!

Give me some more time, and my skills will reach the level of a formal blacksmith. As long as I join the Blacksmith Guild and obtain formal blacksmith qualifications, I will have at least managed to establish a foothold in this other world. However...

Roland let out a long sigh, calming his turbulent emotions.

Recalling his conversation with Bronson yesterday, he couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

Even though I've become a blacksmith apprentice, I absolutely cannot slack off.

"While continuing to hone my forging skills, I also need to find ways to learn new combat skills. If I get the chance, I should try other things too, see if I can awaken new skills and professions."

With that thought, Roland felt his future was bright.

He then quickened his pace and left the assessment grounds.

Upon arriving at the dormitory, Roland quickly packed his belongings. Turning, he pushed open his dorm room door.

Looking up, he saw over a dozen tall youths standing in the open space outside the door.

"Are these people from the assessment just now? Are they looking for trouble? The blacksmith apprentices shouldn't be this stupid, right?"

He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining their faces. He realized they were all commoner youths like himself, who had failed the Knowledge Test the first time and only barely met the deadline before it closed.

"It seems someone instigated this."

Roland instantly understood the whole situation.

He clearly remembered that when he first arrived at the manor, Hawk had set many prohibitions, the most serious of which was:

Anyone caught fighting privately would be immediately expelled from the manor.

"Someone set a trap, waiting for me to fall into it."

Thinking of this, Marco's face, contorted with jealousy, immediately appeared in Roland's mind.

"How childish."

If it were in the past, Roland would indeed have been helpless in this situation.

Back then, he had neither the strength to resist nor the ability to defy the prohibition.

Even if he won, expulsion would be his only fate.

And these youths surrounding him?

Since they would be leaving the manor after failing the assessment anyway, whether they fought or not was of no consequence to them.

But things were different now.

He had officially become a blacksmith apprentice under the witness of Baron Foslin.

This meant that as long as he didn't commit any major offense, Hawk would never expel him from the manor.

In other words, he and these youths were no longer under the same system of judgment.

Moreover, he clearly remembered...

Some of them had bullied him quite a bit when he first arrived here after transmigrating.

With this thought, a cold smile curled Roland's lips. He calmly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the group.

"Everyone. Are you here for me?"

Before Roland could finish speaking, the burly youth at the front stepped forward with a sinister grin.

"Do you think you're so great just because you won the assessment with a trick?"

He cracked his thick knuckles, which made a popping sound.

"Today, we'll teach you some manners."

The atmosphere in the open space instantly tensed.

Roland noticed that the youths' positions were quite strategic, clearly indicating they had planned this.

Three blocked the escape route, five sealed off the sides, and the remaining seven or eight advanced directly.

After exchanging glances, the foremost youth suddenly threw a punch. The wind it generated stirred the stray hairs on Roland's forehead.

"Bang!"

After a dull impact, everyone was shocked to find that Roland had caught the heavy punch with one hand.

His fingers clamped onto the other's wrist like iron pliers, and with a slight twist, the burly youth's eyes widened in terror.

"Crack!"

A crisp sound of dislocated joints, accompanied by a scream, rang out.

Roland followed up by raising his leg, his knee slamming into the opponent's abdomen. He kicked the body, weighing at least eighty kilograms, away like a sack of rags, knocking over three or four people behind him.

"How is this possible?"

Seeing this, disbelief flashed in the eyes of the other youths.

They clearly remembered how weak Roland had been.

If it weren't for the protection of that big傻大个 named Sean, Roland would have likely left the manor on his own due to their bullying long before the assessment ended.

Listening to the pained groans of their companions, fear appeared on the faces of the youths.

But remembering the coins Marco had promised, they ultimately stopped themselves from retreating.

"All at once!"

Someone shouted from the crowd.

More than ten youths charged forward simultaneously.

Roland's eyes flared with sharp light, his Strength attribute, a formidable 6.5, fully displayed at that moment.

He stepped back half a pace, dodging the first incoming fist, and his right palm struck like a blade at the neck of the nearest person.

The youth collapsed without a sound, soft as mud.

A gust of wind attacked from his left. Roland ducked, evading a sweeping wooden stick, and countered with an elbow strike that landed squarely on the ribs of the sneak attacker.

Amidst the clear sound of cracking bone, the man spat blood and fell.

Roland seized the dropped wooden stick and spun around, sweeping it horizontally and sending three lunging figures flying simultaneously.

In less than a minute, the open space was littered with groaning figures.

The only youth still standing had trembling legs and a visibly wet crotch.

As Roland slowly approached, the terrified youth's eyes rolled back, and he fainted dead away.

"Damn it! This useless bunch of peasants!"

Marco clenched the meager coin purse in his hand and cursed under his breath from the shadows.

"And those damn guards too. They're usually patrolling around here at this time, so why today..."

Just then, a dull sound of footsteps suddenly reached his ears.

Marco looked in the direction of the sound and saw several fully armed regular soldiers approaching.

"What are you doing here!"

Marco's eyes lit up. He quickly emerged from the dense woods, waving his arms and shouting.

"Sir! Sir! They're here fighting!"

"What?"

Marco's heart leaped with joy as he saw the leading regular soldier frown and walk towards Roland.

But the next second, the smile froze on his face.

This was because he saw that Roland was not only not flustered in the slightest, but after clearly seeing the soldier's face, the corner of his mouth curved upward.

He was clearly in a good mood.

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