Translator: CinderTL
"Uncle Peyton, you're practically robbing me!"
"Hey, kid! Watch your tone with your uncle!"
Roland sighed helplessly as he watched the arguing uncle and nephew.
He had always held a cynical view of mercenaries, believing they only acted for profit. But he never imagined Peyton would even charge his own nephew.
Good thing I came prepared, Roland thought, secretly relieved. He pulled the red-faced Sean aside and whispered a few words in his ear.
After a moment of hesitation, Sean reluctantly went inside and retrieved the iron sword he had hidden earlier.
Roland took the sword and stepped forward with a warm smile.
"Uncle Peyton, Sean has been worried about your urgent need for a weapon. He specially purchased this iron sword from Mr. Hawk at a discounted price."
With a respectful bow, he presented the sword with both hands.
"Oh?"
Peyton's eyes were instantly drawn to the sword. Hearing Hawk's name, he eagerly snatched it.
But after only a brief examination, the excitement in his eyes faded. He curled his lip and looked up.
"Is this low-quality iron sword really handcrafted by Hawk himself?"
"Of course not," Roland replied, shaking his head.
"It was forged by his apprentice. Otherwise, Sean could never afford it."
"Alright, I'll give him credit for trying."
Peyton's gaze swept past Roland and landed on Sean, who still wore a defiant expression behind him. He raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You two," he said, shaking the iron sword in his hand, "follow me to the training yard."
With that, he turned and strode away, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden floor.
"That guy!" Sean grumbled, his resentment toward his uncle burning fiercely. "Roland, the iron sword you forged would sell for at least several silver coins! And he just—"
"Forget it, Sean," Roland cut in. Unlike Sean, who was fixated on the lost silver coins, Roland had already calculated his next move.
If he could pass the assessment in two months and become a blacksmith apprentice, his Job Panel would give him an edge, allowing him to become a master blacksmith sooner or later. By then, forging iron swords of this quality would be trivial.
Besides, a barely passable iron sword was insignificant to him now. What truly mattered was awakening new skills and activating a new class, thereby boosting his attributes and self-defense capabilities.
He had clearly overheard that learning swordsmanship at the training yard cost ten silver coins per month!
Though he hadn't verified it yet, Roland trusted that Peyton wouldn't lie about something like this.
Compared to paying ten silver coins a month to learn swordsmanship at the training grounds, practicing with a barely serviceable iron sword was an absolute bargain.
After offering a few words of comfort, Roland led Sean to the open space in the backyard.
Peyton had already procured two wooden swords and tossed them to the pair.
"Since neither of you has any experience with weapons, we'll start with the basics of swordsmanship."
With that, he stepped to the center of the clearing, his iron sword flashing in sharp arcs under the sunlight.
The techniques of basic swordsmanship weren't complex—the core movements were simply slashing, chopping, and thrusting, supplemented by blocking and parrying techniques.
The real challenge lay in mastering the proper application of force and coordinating footwork transitions.
To Roland's surprise, though Peyton was notoriously stingy with money, he proved remarkably patient as an instructor.
"Lower your wrist a bit more." Peyton gently nudged Roland's trembling elbow with his wooden sword.
"Yes, exactly like that. Maintain your balance."
Roland held his breath, the wooden sword tracing a slightly awkward arc through the air.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, but his grip on the sword was now far more refined than when he'd started.
"Don't rush to apply force."
Peyton circled behind Roland and suddenly tapped his knee with the flat of his sword.
"Lower your center of gravity! Do you think you're chopping firewood?"
Sean, standing nearby, snorted with laughter, immediately earning a sharp glare.
"What's so funny?" Peyton snapped without turning around. "Your thrusts are as limp as noodles. Fifty more repetitions!"
Roland adjusted his breathing and reset his stance. This time, he deliberately slowed his movements, focusing on the strength rising from his heels, flowing through his waist and back, and channeling into his arm.
"Good!" Peyton suddenly raised his voice, startling Roland so badly he nearly dropped his sword. "That's the feeling! Remember how you're generating power now."
"Uncle Peyton," Roland said hesitantly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Why do I always feel off-balance when I retract my sword?"
Peyton snorted and suddenly lunged forward. Roland scrambled to block, but Peyton merely used the tip of his sword to draw a circle in the sand around Roland's feet.
"Look at your stance! Your feet are practically touching, like a single wooden stake!"
With that, Peyton demonstrated a perfect retraction, his boot leaving a clear semicircle in the sand.
"You need to be rooted like a tree, not drifting like a leaf."
Roland nodded thoughtfully.
"And..."
Under Peyton's patient guidance, Roland gradually grasped the fundamentals of basic swordsmanship.
Before he knew it, the sun had set, and twilight gradually enveloped the courtyard.
Sean had already slipped away to prepare dinner, while Peyton had found a shady spot under a tree and dozed off.
In the empty courtyard, only Roland remained, tirelessly swinging his wooden sword as if determined to exhaust every last ounce of strength.
"Chop! Slash! Thrust!"
He muttered the names of the techniques under his breath, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his back.
The sound of the wooden sword slicing through the air echoed sharply in the silent courtyard.
Just as he completed the final move and sheathed his sword, a line of dazzling golden text suddenly appeared before his eyes.
Basic Swordsmanship Learned. Current Level: Lv. 1
Detected: Eligible to assume the basic class Recruit
Requirements: Strength 2, Agility 1, any Lv. 1 combat-related skill
Assume Class?
"Just as I predicted."
Roland gazed at the flickering golden text, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
As the thought flashed through his mind, his body, which had been pushing itself to its limit, finally gave way. His legs buckled, and he collapsed heavily into the dusty courtyard.
"Awakened Combat Skill... So it really does unlock related classes," he thought, sweat dripping slowly from his chin.
Though his entire body ached, the light in his eyes burned brighter than ever.
Hearing the commotion, Peyton, who had been half-reclining nearby, cracked open his eyes and muttered, "Finally giving up? The kid's got some real tenacity."
He had never been optimistic about Roland's sword practice.
It wasn't for lack of effort, but rather because of Roland's inherent physical limitations. Compared to Peyton's burly nephew, Roland looked like a reed that could be snapped by the wind at any moment.
Years as a mercenary had taught him this lesson countless times: no matter how refined one's swordsmanship, it was useless against overwhelming physical strength.
With a physique like Roland's, he'd be better off...
"If swinging a wooden sword for a day leaves him this exhausted, wielding a blacksmith's hammer would surely break him," Peyton grumbled inwardly.
"His chances of passing the blacksmith apprentice assessment are slim to none. Tomorrow, I'll ask that old drunk Lauren if his shop needs any hands."
Though he maintained a calm facade, Peyton knew better.
The idea of giving him the iron sword could never have come from his foolish nephew, who only knew brute force.
Greedy and stingy as he was, Peyton still had his principles.
He wouldn't inquire about the sword's origins.
But since he had accepted the gift, he naturally had to reciprocate.
He had always disliked owing favors to others.
Meanwhile, Roland in the courtyard remained completely unaware of Peyton's thoughts.
He was leaning on his knees, gasping for breath. As his breathing gradually calmed, he silently recited in his mind:
"Become a recruit!"
(End of the Chapter)
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