The Butcher

On the bumpy village path, two children, one large and one small, walked towards the house of Fletcher the butcher to the north.

Roy recalled that Uncle Butcher seemed to be a distant relative of Susie, and their families occasionally visited. His own idea might actually have a chance.

"Hmph! Rooster Killer, look at your skinny arms and legs, thin as a stick. You want to become my father's apprentice? Just stay home and daydream!" Brandon snorted, wiping a translucent snot from his upper lip, and said with extreme disdain.

Roy followed behind the boy. The latter was less than 4 feet tall (about 1.2 meters), while he was about 5 feet 4 inches (around 1.6 meters). He looked down at the boy's watermelon-shaped hair and couldn't help but reach out and flatten a mischievous lock of hair that was sticking up on top of Brandon's head. Before Brandon could turn around alertly, he casually withdrew his hand.

"Ah, that feels better."

He had lived eighteen years in his previous life and didn't need to stoop to the level of a brat. He shrugged indifferently and said, "I'm already a thirteen-year-old adult. What's so difficult about killing a chicken? Only ignorant brats make a fuss. Rooster Killer? What an ugly name, how could you even think of that?"

"A fool who can't even plow the land has the courage to kill a chicken with his own hands. All signs point to you being possessed by a devil. I'll need to judge this slowly. But, you say I'm ignorant?" Brandon wiped the snot from his mouth with his dirty little chubby hand, then skillfully wiped it clean with his pristine shirt.

As the butcher's child, his family's economic situation was much better than most households in the village. They didn't lack meat, and their clothes were brighter and cleaner. Although young, he was flattered by several children his age and had a sense of superiority since childhood. How could he tolerate being mocked?

"You country bumpkin! My father once saw Queen Mivi of Leria and Livia at the Winter Solstice festival celebration. He tells me about the grand occasion every night. You, a country bumpkin who has never left Kaye, dare to say I'm ignorant?"

"Oh, so Uncle Fletcher brags to you every night. Did he ever tell you about magic tricks?" Roy subtly observed the other's expression. As expected, upon hearing the word "magic tricks," Brandon's eyes immediately lit up, and he started talking animatedly, his words filled with envy and longing.

Seeing this, Roy's heart settled slightly. He suddenly stopped, stood tall, and struck a pose. "If you can help persuade Uncle Fletcher to take me as an apprentice, then the great Roy will show Brandon a miracle of magic."

"Rooster Killer, save your lies for tricking Uncle Don Quixote's little ones. I won't be... fooled?" Brandon suddenly choked. He widened his eyes, his mouth agape enough to swallow an egg. A caterpillar-like snot uncontrollably slid down from his nostrils.

"Hiss... How did you do that?" Right before his eyes, under the bright sunlight, a small stone in Roy's right palm disappeared without warning, as if it had been moved to an unseen place out of thin air.

His palm closed, then opened, and the stone reappeared.

"This is the magic trick I was talking about." Roy was satisfied with the brat's reaction. In reality, the stone was quietly lying in the one-cubic-meter space that came with the template, and he could retrieve it at will with a thought.

"I don't believe it. Show me again!"

"Let's use a different prop this time. Do you have any money on you?"

"Yes." Brandon occasionally stole some change from his butcher father to buy dried fruits with his close friends in the village and taste the sweet and sour fruit wine.

"Give it to me, one Crown will do!"

Whether Brandon was truly foolish or just curious, he took out a golden Crown from his pocket and threw it to Roy. Then, he stretched his neck, watching as Roy held the Crown, flipped his hand downwards, and when his fist turned and opened again, the Crown had vanished without a trace.

"I always stay at home, shut in, just to study magic tricks. Now that I've succeeded, it's time to show you all."

Brandon, disbelieving, searched Roy's body. Roy was completely clean, with no place to hide anything. At this point, he had nothing more to say and agreed to Roy's request.

"You teach me magic tricks, and I'll ask my dad to take you as an apprentice. This is a fair trade."

"One more thing, I solemnly warn you!" Roy, seeing that Brandon hadn't brought it up, happily accepted the Crown and emphasized, "Absolutely do not call me Rooster Killer again, and do not mention it in front of anyone."

In the butcher's yard, a burly, middle-aged man was stroking a yellow ox, its limbs tied and hanging upside down from a wooden frame. Just as he was about to bring down his knife, he caught sight of Roy and the other boy. He ignored Roy, his face stern as he roared at the chubby kid, "You little brat, where have you been wandering off to again? Tell me, how many times this month have you failed to report to the village chief? Wasting the money I worked so hard to earn! You can barely read a few characters, what kind of Bard do you think you'll be in the future? You'd better learn my trade honestly!"

Brandon's "dream" was exposed right in front of him, and his chubby face flushed red as he lowered his head. The son of a butcher, he dreamed of becoming a dashing and suave Bard. If anyone else in the village found out, they'd laugh their heads off.

In fact, in the entire Kaye Village, the number of people who could read and write, including the village chief, didn't exceed three. Ninety percent of the villagers had to pay someone to help them write a letter to relatives far away. Although the butcher Fletcher was rough and tough, he didn't want his son to continue being illiterate.

"Brandon, if you can get the village chief's praise, I'll have Uncle Tom drive you to Fangerburg to broaden your horizons. If you learn well enough, then even if I have to sell everything I own, I'll send you to Oxenfurt University for further studies! Your mother thought the same way before she passed away, don't disappoint her!"

Roy initially didn't think much of Brandon's dream of becoming a Bard. But after hearing what his father had planned, he was slightly surprised. Did this guy have such foresight?

The butcher's job could provide a comfortable living, but in terms of respect and status, it couldn't compare to that of educated people. Never mind going to university, as long as one could read and write the Common Script of the Northern Kingdoms, they wouldn't have to worry about food and drink in the countryside. If they were lucky enough to get a job as a scribe in a big city, they would be even more respected.

As for Oxenfurt University, which the butcher mentioned, it was one of the world's finest universities, on par with the Nilfgaardian Imperial Academy. Geralt's close friend Dandelion and his confidante Shani were both graduates of Oxenfurt.

"Can't underestimate the country folk," Roy's gaze flickered between the butcher and his son.

Fletcher was still focused on scolding his son and ignored Roy. "You little brat, aren't you going back inside yet!" Brandon shot Roy a pleading look. Roy immediately stepped forward and said, "Uncle Fletcher, I came today..."

The butcher waved his hand impatiently, interrupting him directly, "Little Roy, are you healed? Buy some fresh meat later to recuperate! Susie has been worried sick these past few days, spend more time with her when you have the chance!"

At this moment, Brandon, thinking about learning the trade, braced himself and continued, "Fletcher, he wants to be your apprentice."

"Him?" Fletcher glanced at Roy from head to toe, unceremoniously saying, "Uncle is planning to take on an apprentice, but you've never even tilled the soil. Would Susie agree to you becoming my apprentice? Besides, you're too thin and weak, you probably can't even handle a single animal for half a day. Don't come here to cause trouble, go wherever it's cool!"

The job of slaughtering pigs and sheep, though dirty and tiring, was a sought-after one. If one was skilled with a knife, there would be plenty of oil and Crown. Fletcher had previously wanted to pass this business down to his son, ensuring he would have a comfortable life. But now, this kid had a better path – learning the Common Script, so he no longer insisted.

The weak Roy had already decided to find a stable source of experience and wouldn't be scared off by such a small difficulty. He counted on his fingers and said earnestly, "Uncle Fletcher, give me a chance, can I explain?"

The butcher nodded.

"Actually, I've already discussed it with Old Mol and Susie, and I'll be the one to decide. " Roy paused. "You mentioned needing a strong body to be a butcher, and that's true. But this craft values skill and experience more, and these can be accumulated over time. Just like I know that with your experience and skill, you could butcher livestock neatly even with your eyes closed."

"Don't mind that I'm thin now, but I'm young, energetic, my strength grows quickly, and I learn fast. As long as you're willing to teach me hand-in-hand, I guarantee I won't disappoint you!" Roy gritted his teeth and added fuel to the fire, "If I'm not efficient during the apprenticeship, I won't ask for wages! Just give me a piece of meat occasionally."

The butcher grinned widely after hearing this, "Little Roy, you're different from before. You used to struggle to get a word out, but now your tongue is so nimble? It's as if not taking you on would be a crime. For Susie's sake, I'll give you a chance. Do you dare to do it?" As he spoke, he moved aside, revealing the Big Yellow Ox behind him.

"If you dare to personally dispatch this big fellow and can stomach it without throwing up, then I, Fletcher, will take you as an apprentice."

He was certain that Roy, a half-grown boy who had never seen blood, would absolutely not dare to act.

Little did he know that the body of the young man before him was forcefully inhabited by the soul of a young man from Earth in the age of information explosion. What kind of bloody scenes hadn't he witnessed on screen?

Roy, his expression unchanged, took the Dagger from the butcher's hand and walked straight to the Big Yellow Ox hanging upside down. He turned around and said sincerely, "Uncle Fletcher, to be honest, after being kicked by that horse a few days ago, I had a very long dream. After waking up, I decided to make some changes. I'm a country person, I can't farm, but I still need to learn a trade to support myself and help the family... Old Mol and Susie have taken care of me for over ten years, it's time I repaid them."

The entire yard instantly fell silent. Brandon's face turned pale, and he held his breath. Although he was the butcher's son, he had never personally done the deed. Every time his father slaughtered an animal, he would hide far away and cover his ears. The thin figure before him, holding a menacing cold blade, suddenly gave him a sense of unfamiliarity.

Roy seemed to no longer be the gentle, timid Roy of the past.

Mister Butcher's face, slick with oily flesh, flickered with surprise. Has he grown? He's already thinking about his family. Fletcher couldn't help but glance at the snot-nosed troublemaker beside him.

Does getting hit by a horse suddenly make a person grow up and mature?

"Roy, near the ox's neck, you should see a bulge. That's what I just found. Aim your knife at that lump. If you stab accurately, the ox won't suffer too much pain."

As soon as the former finished speaking, Roy's eyes narrowed.

He grasped the feeling from when he killed chickens.

His hand swung steadily, a clean, sharp, fierce, and decisive cut. His wrist pushed forward, striking and retracting. The Big Yellow Ox stared at him with its huge black eyes, two wet streaks flowing from its tear ducts. It let out a weak moo, and without much struggle, its breath ceased.

Simultaneously, Roy's template showed his Experience Points increasing to 7. Killing a Big Yellow Ox had given him a full 5 Experience Points.

The second drop of blood, the legendary vomiting, and the emotional turmoil had not yet appeared.

But killing chickens and killing an ox were ultimately different. Roy didn't feel much joy from gaining Experience Points; instead, he felt a faint sadness and a trace of fear.

Killing a life grants Experience Points. What is the principle behind this?

If I were to kill a person, how much experience would that yield?

For the Personal Template, is the only meaning of life Experience Points?

How does the template determine the Experience Points for each life? Is it based on size? Or the strength of vitality, the quality of the soul? Other reasons? Roy needed to kill more to determine this.

Countless questions surfaced in his mind. He stood there, lost in thought, gripping the blood-dripping Dagger.

At this moment, the butcher let out a hearty laugh and slapped him hard on the shoulder. The immense force jolted Roy back to awareness.

"Good kid, you actually dared to do it! Did getting hit by a horse make you braver?! You've passed this time. If you don't mind the dirt and hard work, come to me before sunrise tomorrow. If you can stick it out, we'll talk about wages later, but you won't be shortchanged on the good stuff."

Fletcher was also getting on in years. His son was determined to study Common Script and didn't want to take over his business, so he needed a helper. Although Roy was thin, Fletcher had watched him grow up. He was simple and honest, knew how to repay his parents, and was even distantly related through Susie. Cultivating him slowly seemed like a good idea.

"Uncle Fletcher, I'll definitely be there on time!" Roy instantly snapped out of his melancholy, his eyes becoming resolute. He inwardly mocked himself, I can't even get enough to eat, and there are still unknown threats. Why should I hypocritically pity a beef ox? Roy wiped away his crocodile tears and tightened his grip on the Dagger.