Translator: CinderTL
Contrary to his expectations, the Mithril Body Tempering Technique didn't describe any physical training methods.
Instead of the body-forging techniques Roland had imagined, it resembled a unique medicinal formula.
The method involved grinding various ingredients into powder, mixing them thoroughly, and applying the mixture to the entire body. Then...
"Then you must also practice a specific breathing technique to enhance the cultivation, otherwise the effects will be greatly diminished?"
Reading the final sentence at the end of the parchment, Roland frowned. After a moment, he sighed, consoling himself.
"Even if the effects are weaker, it's still better than nothing. With my current status, how could I ever access such a breathing technique?"
As he muttered to himself, he carefully copied the medicinal ingredients required for the formula onto a piece of cloth.
"Silverleaf Grass, Nightshade Vine... but what exactly is Silver Dust?"
He recognized the earlier ingredients.
When his predecessor's father had fallen ill, Roland had often been sent to purchase these herbs. Though expensive, they were at least relatively common.
But Silver Dust was completely unfamiliar to him.
Worse, the formula called for a substantial amount of Silver Dust, making it one of the primary ingredients.
"Tsk."
Roland clicked his tongue softly and shook his head in resignation.
When he had first discovered the Mithril Body Tempering Technique, he had been filled with excitement.
According to the parchment, practicing the Mithril Body Tempering Technique would not only drastically increase his strength but also enhance his physical resilience, perfectly addressing his current weakness.
Moreover, he was just a bit short of the strength attribute required to advance to the blacksmith class.
"Never mind."
As twilight deepened outside the window, Roland rubbed his rumbling stomach.
"I should probably eat first before studying the tempering technique."
With that thought, Roland pushed open the door and headed toward the dining hall.
The dinner bell had rung some time ago.
When he arrived, the usually bustling dining hall was now eerily deserted, save for a solitary figure sitting on a bench, mechanically chewing on his cold meal.
"Mr. Bronson?"
A flicker of surprise lit Roland's eyes as he recognized the man.
Though he had only known the reserved teacher for three days, Roland could already sense his vast knowledge from his words and demeanor.
Perhaps he knows what Silver Dust is.
Clutching this hope, Roland scooped up the last portion of cold rice and deliberately sat beside Bronson.
"Mr. Bronson, why are you eating so late today?"
"Hmm?"
Bronson looked up at the sound of Roland's voice, forcing a weary smile as he recognized him.
He slowly swallowed the food in his mouth, responding with a gentle yet weary voice.
"You're late too, Roland. Were you engrossed in your studies?"
Roland soaked a piece of dry, hard black bread in the leftover meat broth from lunch before answering.
"Yes, Mr. Bronson. I spent the entire afternoon studying the novel you distributed."
"I see."
Bronson gazed at the knowledge-hungry young man before him, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes.
"I received the notice at the last minute, so I couldn't prepare proper teaching materials for you all. I apologize."
"It's quite alright, Mr. Bronson."
Roland swallowed his mouthful, hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "There's just one thing in the novel that piqued my curiosity. It's called 'Silver Dust.' Do you know what that is?"
"Silver Dust?"
Bronson's movements visibly paused at the mention of the term. He tilted his head slightly upward, his gaze drifting as if lost in some distant memory. The dim yellow light of the dining hall cast shifting shadows across his face.
After a moment, he spoke slowly.
"It's a common material used in Alchemy. However..."
He turned his head, raising an eyebrow and offering a knowing smile.
"However, such specialized knowledge of Alchemy techniques shouldn't appear in a novel meant for leisure reading, should it?"
"Uh... well..."
Under Bronson's piercing gaze, which seemed to see through everything, Roland's hand froze mid-air, clutching the wooden spoon.
He suddenly realized that this usually mild-mannered and reserved teacher might not be as simple as he appeared.
Roland unconsciously scratched his head, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.
"Don't be nervous," Bronson said, withdrawing his sharp gaze and picking up his own wooden spoon. "Everyone has their secrets. I don't like to pry."
He stirred the thick soup in his bowl with deliberate slowness.
"So... you need Silver Dust?"
"Yes, I do," Roland replied, abandoning any pretense now that the matter was out in the open. He nodded solemnly.
A faint smile curved Bronson's lips.
"I do have some on hand, but..."
"What do you need me to do?" Roland asked directly, his fingers unconsciously tracing the rough edge of the wooden table.
"Heh heh..." Bronson chuckled softly, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Mr. Hawk was right. You are indeed quite clever."
He set down his utensils and clasped his hands on the table.
"I need a custom-made dagger. I've heard your forging skills are exceptional."
"A dagger?" Roland asked, slightly taken aback.
He had expected some harsh conditions, but forging a dagger seemed almost trivial given his current skill level.
Then a thought struck him. Hawk's forging skills were clearly far superior to his own, and the two seemed to be on good terms. Why would Bronson go through such a roundabout approach?
As if sensing Roland's doubts, Bronson's lips curled into a wry smile. "I simply can't afford Hawk's fees," he explained softly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Roland watched Bronson's slightly lowered gaze. Though the explanation felt somewhat strained, he nodded slowly.
"Forging the dagger is no problem, but Mr. Hawk has stipulated that I can't enter the blacksmith shop or use any of its tools until I pass the knowledge test."
"Then... are you confident you can pass the test?"
Though Roland didn't answer immediately, Bronson nodded meaningfully when he saw no trace of discouragement in the young man's eyes.
"Let's eat first. Come with me when you're finished."
Seeing Bronson offer no further explanation, Roland fell silent, focusing on finishing the remaining food on his plate.
The already spacious dining hall now felt even more desolate, with only the occasional clinking of silverware echoing through the room.
"Let's go," Bronson said.
A moment later, seeing Roland put down his utensils, Bronson calmly retrieved a silk handkerchief from his pocket, elegantly wiped the corners of his mouth, and rose to lead the way out.
Roland quickly followed.
The pair traversed winding corridors, eventually arriving at the manor's most remote corner.
Under the moonlight, a dilapidated cottage stood alone.
"Wait for me outside," Bronson instructed as he pushed open the door.
An indescribable odor wafted out the moment the door opened.
Through the crack, Roland glimpsed the interior.
Books lay scattered across the floor, leaving barely any room to step. At the far end, a weathered wooden table displayed an array of bizarre instruments.
Just as Roland tried to discern more details, the door slammed shut.
When Bronson reappeared, he held a cloth pouch tied with a silver ribbon.
"This is the Silver Dust you requested. As for this..."
He produced a tattered blueprint from his pocket.
"It's the design for the dagger. I expect the finished product within three months."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Bronson's lips.
"You won't disappoint me, will you?"
The moonlight cast a cold, shadowy pallor across his face.
After a moment of intense contemplation, Roland finally nodded solemnly.
(End of the Chapter)
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