[Repeated newspaper coverage earned you considerable local fame; XP+30]
When Arthur saw the notifications clearly, delight spread across his face, impossible to suppress. He had expected far more XP than before, but never this much!
Thirty points!
Chief Lark, your true identity really was worth a fortune!
And thank you, Miss Caesar, for fanning the flames!
Fontel and Wiggins, too, of course!
Faced with a haul beyond his expectations, Arthur offered his heartfelt thanks.
He knew perfectly well that, aside from his identity as a "Medium" and all that "help," the real reason he had gained so much XP was the Axe Murderer's true identity.
Chief Lark's true identity had simply been too shocking.
Whenever Arthur thought of the chief, he couldn't help thinking of the victim with the most unusual status.
I wonder whether that murdered police officer had any connections.
If so, the Shire District will be in turmoil for a while longer!
Arthur laughed aloud with malicious glee.
With the implementation of the new law three years ago, constables had officially passed into history. But just as Lark had still worn his Sheriff's Badge, many lingering issues remained unresolved.
For example: the identities of the police officers.
Under the new law, police officers had to undergo selection and training, prove their loyalty, and so on.
But in practice?
Most police officers were still the same people as before, drawn from the streets, gangs, nobles' private troops, and the like. Although the remainder were recruited from the public, the additional equipment and uniform costs of 200 Sol effectively ruled out ordinary people joining their ranks.
Those recruits could only have come from the middle class, impoverished nobility, and similar backgrounds.
Of course, the likeliest candidates were relatives of existing officers-nobody wanted outsiders joining their ranks, especially in tradition-bound South Los.
But whichever background they came from, they all had their own "backing."
With that sort of "backing," certain matters became interesting when one of their own had been "attacked and killed" by a fellow officer.
At the very least, some people who shouldn't have entertained ambitions would start doing so.
After all, the position at stake was chief of the Shire District police.
None of that had anything to do with Arthur, though.
He simply hoped they would fight as fiercely and as long as possible over the position, ideally until he had fully built up his strength.
By then... heh, heh, heh.
At that thought, Arthur began spending points again without hesitation.
At any time, every plan needed strength to support it-
[Consumed 10 XP, Basic Swordsmanship Lv3 → Lv4] [Basic Swordsmanship Lv4: A solid foundation and several life-or-death battles have made your swordsmanship stand out among ordinary people. You can deliver a lethal strike against your opponent at any moment.]
His body and knowledge began synchronizing again.
This time, with no one to keep under surveillance, Arthur drew his longsword with a metallic ring once the process was complete and thrust straight at an imaginary enemy before him.
Whoosh!
It cut through the air like a crossbow bolt.
This thrust was faster and more vicious than Chief Lark's had been.
Arthur was confident that, if they attacked simultaneously, he could pierce Lark's throat first, then withdraw his sword and retreat without getting a drop of blood on himself-not only because his swordsmanship level now exceeded Lark's, but because his [Physique] was far beyond anything Lark could match.
Yet neither [Physique] nor [Spirituality] showed any change.
Arthur frowned.
Was my hunch wrong?
No!
It's just harder to improve [Physique] and [Spirituality] than I expected. But that isn't bad news for me.
At least, that kind of difficulty doesn't exist for me right now-
Spend more points!
Arthur still had plenty of XP. He merely glanced at the XP requirement for [Basic Swordsmanship Lv4 (0/20)] before spending more points.
His XP bottomed out again.
Arthur remained utterly unmoved.
To him, XP was a consumable in the first place. Exchanging it for greater strength was perfectly natural.
As for saving it?
Arthur didn't believe he had the luxury.
Unless XP could breed if he left it sitting there!
[Consumed 20 XP, Basic Swordsmanship Lv4 → Lv5] [Basic Swordsmanship Lv5: Through decent talent, relentless training, and dozens of life-or-death battles, you have reached your current level. With your current physique, you can easily slash two incoming arrows out of the air with a longsword. When you thrust, you can cut an ordinary person's throat before they have time to react.] (Note: This skill has reached its maximum level.)
His body and knowledge synchronized once more.
But this time was different.
A distinct warmth flowed through his body, and Arthur heard something slicing through the air.
The instant he heard it, the thought That's an arrow fired from a shortbow surfaced in his mind. The arrow's trajectory and angle appeared in his head, and then his body moved involuntarily, slashing straight out with the longsword in his hand.
Crack!
The blade intercepted the arrow precisely and split it in two.
Arthur held his slashing stance as text flashed before his eyes.
[Physique +0.1]
Whew!
Arthur exhaled deeply, recalling the sensation of that slash while carefully examining the changes in his body.
When he had previously received the talent [Remnant Dark Serpent] through the exchange, Arthur hadn't had time to feel much of anything. It had all happened too quickly, and hurt too much.
Now he could finally savor it.
It didn't hurt.
It even felt a little like soaking in a hot spring.
Then he clenched his fist, and a sense of power spread through his entire body.
An increase in [Physique] has a more tangible effect on my strength!
Throwing punch after punch and listening to his fists whistle through the air, Arthur smiled again.
Who could resist the feeling of growing stronger?
For Arthur in particular, nothing brought him greater joy than an increase in strength.
The only blemish was that [Basic Swordsmanship] had already reached its limit.
At this stage, I can only slash down two arrows?
If my [Physique] is strong enough, could I cut through a ball fired from a flintlock?
As Arthur imagined himself cleaving bullets with his sword one day, his smile grew brighter. After all, if anyone witnessed that scene, he would surely earn even more XP...
Wait!
Once I reach that point, will I still need to rack my brains devising schemes for XP?
Will I?
Won't I?
Sitting in the Medium's Hall, Arthur pondered the question for a full minute before shaking his head and sighing-
"Human desire really is endless."
"So, to reach the point where I can cut through bullets sooner, I need to learn more advanced swordsmanship. I wonder how good those swordsmanship clubs on West Merck Avenue are."
Because of the Swordsmanship Tournament held every three years, every district in South Los had swordsmanship clubs. Those on West Merck Avenue were particularly well known. One in particular, the Jorjok Swordsmanship Club, had even taken third place in the previous Swordsmanship Tournament.
Maybe I should give it a try!
With that thought, Arthur headed into the kitchen.
Breakfast had been decent enough.
Lunch had truly been a makeshift affair because of his surveillance.
For dinner, Arthur felt he ought to reward himself.
He had no intention of eating out, though.
He was afraid certain people wouldn't be able to find him.
That would delay his XP earnings!
With two flintlocks beside the stove, his longsword slung diagonally at his waist, and the Medium's Case right by his feet, Arthur melted a pat of butter in a frying pan and laid the boneless chicken thigh meat flat inside. As it sizzled, the distinctive aroma of meat wafted from the fat.
Pork chops, beef steaks, or lamb chops would have tasted better, but the butcher had delivered those cuts to everyone's kitchens that morning. By the time Arthur arrived at noon, he could only choose between scraps and chicken.
Arthur felt his cooking skills weren't up to handling those scraps, so he had settled for chicken thighs. But after the owner promised he would also receive a pound of beef steak, or an equivalent weight of pork or lamb chops, the next morning, Arthur had picked up half a pound of meat scraps as well. They were now soaking in cold water to draw out the blood.
He poured boiling water over the Sichuan peppercorns and star anise, then set it aside.
Arthur took out the meat scraps and chopped them finer.
He wanted fried meatballs.
As the kitchen knife struck the chopping board in a steady rhythm, the scraps rapidly became mince. Meanwhile, as though they knew what would happen in advance, two dark figures easily evaded the patrolling police officers and crept up to the door of 2 Kirk Street.
Arthur saw it all through the Periscope.
He wiped his hands, picked up the two flintlocks, and walked toward the front door.
Before you continue