Night Raid

Duke returned home and used the flour he had bought to make some rough bread. It did not look like much, but it tasted pretty good.

There was also a whole strip of cured meat. He cut off a third of it and steamed it, and its fragrance soon spread through the room, making his mouth water.

The cured meat already contained all sorts of seasonings, so there was no need to add anything else.

Ignoring the heat, Duke tore off a long strip of meat and stuffed it into his mouth. A deep sense of satisfaction welled up within him.

He had already forgotten how long it had been since he had last eaten meat. The sensation of meat and fat bursting across his tongue filled him with happiness.

"Cured meat really is delicious!" Duke continued wolfing it down, quickly finishing all the steamed cured meat.

He also swept up every last piece of bread. This was the most satisfying meal he had eaten since coming to this world.

Three bags of flour and three strips of cured meat had cost him more than fifty silver coins in total.

Duke's appetite was growing larger and larger. Eating like this still would not let him have meat every day; he could only indulge once in a while.

Uncle John's family would certainly never eat as lavishly as Duke did. At most, they would slice off a piece of cured meat and put it into the pot on ordinary days. How could they bear to cut off a third and eat it all at once?

After eating his fill, Duke continued grinding proficiency in the courtyard with his iron sword.

[Basic Swordsmanship: LV3 (67/700)]

He found that after that night's battle, his Basic Swordsmanship proficiency had increased quite a bit. It seemed that fighting also earned proficiency.

Actual combat provided more proficiency than ordinary practice. Perhaps it was related to the opponent's strength.

Holding his iron sword, Duke practiced Basic Swordsmanship over and over again. Only when the sky was filled with twinkling stars did he stop to rest and prepare for sleep.

Nearly half a month passed, and everything remained peaceful during that time.

Duke simply repeated his routine of grinding proficiency and standing patrol duty. Life was peaceful, and he enjoyed such days, steadily building up his strength.

On the skill tree, a small bluish-green fruit grew from the branch representing Basic Swordsmanship, and a message followed.

[Basic Swordsmanship: LV4 (0/1000)]

[Basic Swordsmanship level increased. Constitution +0.5, Strength +0.3, Agility +0.4]

[Constitution: 6.2]

[Strength: 7.2]

[Agility: 6.5]

[Spirit: 8.1]

[Free Attribute Points: 0]

Looking at the skill tree, Duke found it somewhat strange. This time, after raising Basic Swordsmanship to level four, the attribute points he gained were actually fewer than when he raised his sickle to level four.

He remembered that when he had grinded his sickle to level four, Constitution, Strength, and Agility had all increased by 0.5. But now, Strength and Agility had increased by less.

After thinking it over, Duke could only guess that his physical attributes were already relatively high, making the increase in numerical values appear smaller.

But in reality, the improvement might have been the same. It only looked smaller because it was being added to a higher base value.

"Does diminishing marginal utility apply here too?" Duke pondered.

This made him think of a problem: if this continued, then grinding experience for other skills in the future might barely improve his attributes at all.

Realizing this, Duke could not help but feel worried.

Since the current method of improvement had its limits, he needed to find other ways to increase his strength as soon as possible.

At that moment, Duke also understood the importance of free attribute points. No matter how high his physical attributes were, they could directly add one point.

He recalled the Southern Mine some time ago, where that one point of Strength had far surpassed any previous increase.

Now it seemed that one point of Strength might be equivalent to 1.5, or even 2, points of his former Strength.

That night, as usual, Duke patrolled inside and outside Enderland Town with the other militia members.

Holding up a torch, he glanced at the night sky. The moon was dark, and the wind was high.

Within Enderland Town, aside from the tavern, which remained fairly lively and noisy, the residents elsewhere had long since gone to sleep.

After the battle at the Southern Mine, Duke had gained some standing within the militia.

In order to grind proficiency, he would occasionally spar with the militia's veterans. Eventually, no one was willing to spar with him anymore. No one wanted to be beaten one-sidedly.

More importantly, Duke seemed tireless and could keep fighting indefinitely. How could those veterans outlast such a young man? Later on, they all avoided him.

By now, Duke could no longer find an opponent in the militia. No one was willing to practice with him.

Walking at the front of his five-man squad, Duke saw a group gathered near the town entrance, doing who knew what. He immediately became alert.

Enderland Town had no curfew, but it was rare for people to gather outside so late at night.

In the past, Duke would only encounter one or two drunkards who could not find their way home, and he would casually stuff them into his own house. He was familiar with nearly everyone in town.

"Who are you people?" Duke demanded directly.

One of the group's leaders, wearing a cloak, slowly approached and said with an ingratiating smile, "Officer, we're merchants passing through and want to spend the night in town. You know how unsafe it is outside..."

As he spoke, he silently drew closer, and before they knew it, he was very near Duke and the others.

Duke immediately drew his iron sword and shouted, "Come any closer, and don't blame me for being rude!"

His extensive combat experience told him that another step closer would put them within the other side's attack range. He was highly sensitive to such distances.

To his surprise, the man's expression changed, and a fierce look instantly appeared on his face. "Attack! Kill these few first!"

Hearing this, Duke immediately drew in a deep breath, then shouted, "Enemy attack!"

His mind was clear. Since the other side was prepared to attack, this was obviously premeditated.

In that case, their five-man squad would likely be unable to stop them. What he needed to do was raise the alarm first, then hold these people back while waiting for reinforcements.

Duke put all his strength into that roar. His breath was long and powerful, and the entire Enderland Town heard it, waking many people from their sleep.

"Damn brat!" The leader was a minor commander of the Wild Wolf Bandit Group named Cole.

Cole and these eight men were the advance unit. Their goal had been to silently eliminate the militia patrolling and guarding the town, then let the bandits enter to burn, kill, and plunder.

They had not expected this brat to be so alert that he gave them no opportunity at all.

And his reaction had been incredibly fast. He had decisively raised the alarm, causing them considerable trouble.

Cole stared at Duke, drew his longsword, and said, "In that case, go die!"

Duke noticed that beneath the man's cloak was a suit of silver-white full plate armor.

He immediately realized that this man was probably a troublesome opponent. He actually had the means to equip himself with full plate armor.