John

"Hmph! You sure are something, kid!"

The regular soldier let out a cold snort and nudged the youths sprawled on the ground, groaning, with his toe.

"Give it a little more force, and this bunch might end up meeting the Heavenly Father, huh? Aren't you afraid I'll lock you up in prison for a year or two?"

"Heh."

Roland ignored the threat and merely chuckled as he asked in return,

"When did you get back, Captain John?"

"Hahaha!"

Now that his identity had been exposed, John dropped his disguise and strode over, laughing loudly as he gave Roland's shoulder a heavy slap.

"I only got back the day before yesterday. But you—what's going on here?"

Roland lifted his chin toward Marco, who stood frozen nearby, and slowly explained his deductions.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

John turned his head to glance at Marco and clicked his tongue.

"That kid didn't even get involved personally? He's got a bit of sense, at least."

As he spoke, he suddenly leaned close to Roland's ear and asked in a lowered voice,

"Tell me, how do you want to deal with him?"

"Huh?"

Roland was slightly taken aback, then furrowed his brows and advised,

"Captain John, I appreciate your good intentions, but his father is Henry, the most famous Blacksmith in Blackwater Territory."

"Henry? Hmph! So what?"

John waved his hand dismissively.

"When all is said and done, he's nothing more than a commoner with somewhat better forging skills. His son caused trouble at a noble's estate. I'm dealing with him according to the law. Would he really dare object?"

"But it seems we're lacking conclusive evidence."

"Evidence? Ha!"

John hooked an arm around Roland's shoulder, his brows lifting slightly.

"Once we lock him in the dungeon, we'll have as much evidence as we need!"

"Won't this cause you trouble?"

"What? Looking down on me?"

A smile tugged at the corner of John's mouth.

"If it weren't for you, kid, those dog-headed men would have eaten me alive by now! What's a little matter like this?"

Hearing that, Roland smiled knowingly.

Marco had repeatedly caused him trouble, even going so far as to hire assassins to kill him.

He had memorized every one of these grudges, one by one, incident by incident.

If he hadn't been wary of Marco's father's influence in Blackwater Territory, he would have personally ground him to dust long ago!

Now that the opportunity had come knocking, how could he refuse?

"I'll leave everything to your arrangements, Captain John."

"That's more like it!"

John released Roland, turned around, and shouted at the two regular soldiers behind him,

"What are you waiting for?"

He pointed at Marco, who stood dumbfounded.

"Take this kid into custody!"

"What are you doing?"

Because they were too far away, Marco hadn't heard Roland and John's conversation clearly, and he was still utterly confused.

Only when he saw the soldiers reaching for his shoulders did he realize what was happening and struggle desperately.

Years of swinging a hammer to train his forging skills had given him strength far beyond that of his peers. Moreover, the two soldiers were holding back out of consideration for his identity and didn't dare use their full strength. For a moment, they were actually unable to subdue him.

"What?"

Seeing this, John strode forward, his voice low.

"You still want to resist?"

When Marco saw John's right hand rest on his sword hilt, his Adam's apple bobbed and his voice began to tremble.

"Sir, I—I just—I don't understand why you're arresting me?"

"Why?"

John let out a cold laugh and pointed at the youths still groaning in pain on the ground.

"Answer me. Were you, like them, once learning forging skills under Mister Hawk?"

"Y-yes."

"Then."

John suddenly bent down and moved closer, his sharp gaze stabbing straight into Marco's evasive eyes.

"Why did you stand by and watch when they were beaten?"

"Huh?"

Marco had never imagined that John would use this reason to arrest him.

He stood there blankly for a moment before stammering out an explanation.

"Um... Roland was too strong. If I'd gone up, I would only have gotten beaten too, and besides—"

"Coward!"

John shouted over him.

"The thing I hate most in this life is cowards!"

He turned toward the two soldiers and berated them.

"What are you waiting for? Didn't you eat your fill at breakfast? Do I have to do it myself?"

"Yes, sir!"

Seeing their captain lose his temper, the two soldiers no longer dared delay. Their iron-tongs-like hands clamped tightly around Marco's arms.

At that moment, the blacksmith's son, who had always looked down on everyone, finally understood.

He glared furiously at Roland and John, poisonous hatred burning in his eyes.

"How dare you treat me like this? My father is—"

"Bang!"

Marco's shouting came to an abrupt halt.

John's sword hilt slammed into his abdomen, smashing the rest of his sentence into a pained groan.

"Take him to the dungeon and interrogate him properly! If I find out you went easy on him—"

"Yes, Captain!"

The two soldiers caught sight of the savage scars on John's face and shuddered involuntarily. Supporting Marco between them, they hurried toward the prison.

"As for you lot."

John turned around and shouted harshly at the battered youths on the ground.

"What are you waiting for? Get lost! Do I have to send someone to carry you home?"

The youths helped one another up and limped away, unwillingness written all over their faces.

But when they passed by Roland, all their resentment instantly froze.

Their bodies suddenly stiffened. Their necks instinctively recoiled, and primal fear surfaced in their eyes.

In the blink of an eye, the once-noisy clearing was left with only Roland and John.

"I heard today is the selection for Blacksmith Apprentices."

After confirming that no one was nearby, John dropped his stern facade and smiled as he patted Roland's shoulder.

"Looks like you've already passed the examination?"

"Yes."

Roland nodded in acknowledgment.

"Hahaha, I really didn't expect it..."

John bent down, picked up the pack Roland had dropped during the fight, and casually handed it over.

"Not only are you skilled in combat, kid, but your forging skills are impressive too."

"You flatter me, Captain John. I just—"

"Enough with the polite talk!"

John waved his hand heartily to cut him off, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and only then said,

"Since there's nothing else, I'll be off first—"

Seeing John about to leave, Roland suddenly remembered something and hurriedly spoke up.

"Oh, right, Captain John. There's something else I'd like to ask of you."

"Hmm?"

John stopped and looked at the soldiers approaching in the distance. After grunting, he said,

"Kid, I still have to patrol right now. How about this?"

"You're heading to the Blacksmith shop in the east to report, right? Once I'm off duty tonight, I'll come find you for a drink!"

"This..."

Faced with John's enthusiastic invitation, Roland awkwardly scratched his head.

"I'm afraid Mister Hawk won't allow me to drink."

"Uh..."

At the mention of Hawk, John's imposing air weakened somewhat.

"If that's Mister Hawk's rule... then how about this? You can just watch me drink! Don't worry, I'll bring some good snacks to go with it!"

"Okay!"

Roland smiled faintly.

"Then I won't eat dinner. I'll wait to sample Captain John's delicacies."

"That's more like it!"

Seeing that Roland finally stopped insisting on unnecessary formalities, John nodded in satisfaction and strode away.

Roland let out a long breath. Thinking of Marco's miserable appearance earlier, he couldn't help raising the corners of his mouth.

He then picked up his pack and soon arrived in front of the Blacksmith shop in the east.

"Good heavens..."

Standing at the entrance, Roland couldn't help holding his breath at the sight before him.

The spacious, brightly lit forging hall was three times larger than his former workplace. Several fine-iron forging stations stood in neat rows, each equipped with a complete set of brand-new tools.

Compared with this place, where he had once learned forging, his old workplace was nothing more than a shabby little workshop.

"You're Roland, right?"

Just then, a tall young man hurried over, a friendly smile on his face.

"My name is George. I'm an apprentice of Master Hawk. Master already told me about you. Come with me..."

As he led the way, George introduced the Blacksmith shop's various facilities and rules in detail.

Before long, the two of them arrived at a forging station.

"This will be your workplace from now on. If there's anything you don't understand, you can always ask me. As for those regulations..."

At this point, George seemed to remember something, and he forced an awkward smile.

"You'd better follow them strictly. I'm sure you've already experienced Master Hawk's temper."

"I understand. Thank you, Mister George."

Roland thanked him sincerely.

"Don't mention it."

George smiled, waved his hand, and left.

Looking around the spacious, brightly lit forging hall, Roland unconsciously smiled.

Unlike the tense atmosphere when he had first studied the craft, the apprentices here seemed especially friendly because they weren't competing with one another.

After several conversations, Roland grew increasingly eager for his life as an apprentice.

From the other apprentices, he learned about the work system here.

Every month, aside from the basic forging assignments, Hawk would also assign some additional work.

If they did poorly, they would at most receive a scolding, while their pay would remain unaffected.

If they performed exceptionally, they would receive extra coins as a reward. However, after deducting costs and the portion that had to be handed over, barely anything remained.

Thus, most apprentices simply chose to complete their basic assignments step by step.

"This is practically paradise for slacking off."

After hearing all this, Roland couldn't help murmuring.

The setting sun sank toward the horizon, and dusk deepened.

When Roland walked out of the Blacksmith shop, he immediately ran into John, who was carrying several large and small bags.

"Well, you timed it perfectly!"

John's hearty laughter came rushing over along with the aromas of liquor and roast meat.

He threw an arm around Roland's shoulder.

"Come on, let's go sit in your dormitory. I heard that all the apprentices under Mister Hawk get private rooms? Tsk, tsk, that treatment is enough to make anyone envious..."

Amid their laughter and conversation, the two arrived before a row of detached cottages.

Following George's earlier directions, Roland quickly found his residence.

He pushed open the door and looked inside. Although the furnishings were simple, the clean, bright room was worlds apart from the communal bunk where more than a dozen people had once crowded together.

"Whoa! This place is really spacious!"

John clicked his tongue in amazement, then casually carried a wooden table over from the corner and laid out the food and wine one by one.

After biting open the wine stopper and taking a swig, he asked him bluntly.

"Speak up, kid. What do you want with me?"

"I want to learn archery from you."

Roland accepted the roasted chicken leg, his eyes burning with anticipation.

Even now, he still remembered John's astonishing archery skills.

If the Blood Scale Kobold hadn't been covered in tough scales, John alone, together with those two regular soldiers, would probably have been enough to kill it.

"Archery? Leave it to me!"

John slapped his chest and agreed readily.

"But it's too late today. We'll start tomorrow afternoon. I can explain the basics to you first, though."

As John went into a clear and thorough explanation, Roland finally realized that archery was far more than simply drawing a bow and firing an arrow.

From stance to breathing, from finger placement to exerting force, every aspect was a subject of its own.

Before they knew it, the night had deepened.

After stuffing the last piece of chicken, together with some black bread, into his mouth, Roland asked as casually as he could.

"By the way, Captain John, what's the situation with that group of kobolds that poured in from the Dawn Territory earlier?"

Before the words had even left his mouth, John's smile suddenly froze.

The usually hearty old soldier knitted his brows tightly and let out a heavy sigh.