On the edge of the Shadow Forest lay Stone Mill Village.
Inside the village's only mill, Matthew was carrying a heavy sack of wheat from a cart to the grain pile next to the millstone.
He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his forehead as his breathing grew heavy.
The burlap sack was rough, and the wheat grains inside probably weighed nearly a hundred pounds.
For a slightly frail youth who had just turned fifteen, this work was far from easy.
However, Matthew had no intention of slacking off. First of all, this job was hard to come by. The village had only arranged this work for him to make a living because both of his parents had died tragically at the hands of monsters.
Second, although the work in the mill was grueling, the two daily meals of black bread were served in ample portions.
When he had first transmigrated, his body was practically skin and bones. Over the past month, he had been slowly nursing himself back to health.
Though the black bread tasted terrible, its nutritional value was decent.
While it wasn't high-quality health food, it was more than enough to make up for his physical deficiencies.
Yes, he was a transmigrator.
In his past life, he had graduated from a top university and worked hard in Shanghai for several years. Just as his life was finally getting on track, he opened his eyes to find himself transmigrated into this world.
Over the course of a month, Matthew had gained a general understanding of this world.
This was a fantasy world where extraordinary power existed.
Not long after he transmigrated, he had witnessed a man dressed as a knight slice a massive tree—one that would take two people to hug—cleanly in half with a single swing of his sword!
If it were just that, Matthew might have simply attributed it to the knight's immense physical strength, but the faint glow radiating from the blade was impossible to fake.
But none of that had anything to do with the current Matthew. Right now, he was just a peasant who had only recently managed to secure two meals a day.
Yet, despite the poor start, Matthew had no intention of giving up.
He might be a peasant now, but he refused to remain one for the rest of his life.
Having gone through the rare experience of transmigration, he also wanted to master extraordinary power and perhaps even become a Class holder.
Most importantly, monsters would occasionally emerge from the forest beside the village to raid Stone Mill Village.
Though they were called monsters, the only ones Matthew had actually seen with his own eyes were goblins.
The resident instructor would occasionally drag back one or two dead ones and dump them at the village entrance as a warning, which also served to slightly boost the morale of the villagers who were suffocated by fear.
They had green, wrinkled skin, short and hunched bodies, and wore only tattered rags around their waists. Their weapons were crudely made, not even as sturdy as a pitchfork in the mill.
A normal adult would have an absolute advantage in a one-on-one fight against one.
However, if goblins banded together in packs, their destructive capability and threat level would rise to a completely different tier. Even the entire village would have to take them seriously.
The reason was simple: those little creatures were incredibly brutal!
In short, if Matthew wanted to live a safe and happy life in this world, he needed sufficient strength!
“Matthew! Go clear the weeds in the empty lot next to the barn. Use the pitchfork over there and make it quick! It's getting late!”
The voice of John, the mill owner, echoed from the inner room of the mill, carrying a hint of urgency.
“Coming!” Matthew called back loudly. He walked over to the side of the barn and reached out to pick up a pitchfork. Right at that moment, a line of semi-transparent, small text appeared before his eyes.
【Poor-quality equipment [Pitchfork] detected. Equip?】
【Yes/No?】
Long accustomed to this, Matthew silently thought, Yes. Immediately, a fresh understanding of how to handle the weeds welled up within him, and he set to work.
At the same time, an attribute panel appeared before him.
【Name: Matthew
Age: 15
Strength: 3, Agility: 4, Constitution: 3, Perception: 5, Spirit: 6
Equipment Slot: Pitchfork
Skills: None】
Note: The constitution of an average adult is 5.
...
【Equipment: Poor-Quality Pig Iron Pitchfork (Bound)
Quality: Grey
Equipment Requirements: Strength 2, Constitution 2
Description: A common agricultural tool that has been simply polished. It can barely be considered sharp. While it might be more than enough for clearing weeds, using it to fight monsters is pure fantasy.
Effect: Slightly increases weed-clearing efficiency.】
This was his cheat, and the foundation of his confidence to change his life.
His gaze fell first on the attribute section.
Strength: 3, Agility: 4, Constitution: 3, Perception: 5, Spirit: 6.
The small note below, "Note: The constitution of an average adult is 5," stood out prominently.
“My Strength and Constitution are only 3, quite a bit lower than an ordinary adult's,” Matthew realized.
This perfectly matched the current state of his body—fifteen years old, chronically malnourished, and only recently having escaped being "skin and bones."
After all, a month ago, his constitution was barely enough to handle this pitchfork. After a month of nourishment, he was already quite satisfied with this level of progress.
As for his Spirit, which was higher than that of an average adult, Matthew could only attribute it to the fusion of two souls from two lifetimes.
He reined in his thoughts and focused back on the task at hand.
With the pitchfork bound, that sense of "instinctive understanding" surfaced once more.
He no longer needed to consciously calculate angles and force; he simply knew the most energy-efficient way to clear the weeds.
【Effect: Slightly increases weed-clearing efficiency.】
The panel's description was very realistic. The increase in efficiency was indeed real, but it wasn't revolutionary.
Matthew even found himself looking forward to what kind of effects other weapons might grant.
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the mill in a warm golden light. Matthew put the cleaned pitchfork back in its place and patted the grass clippings and dust off his clothes.
With his day's labor finished, his stomach was already growling with hunger.
He walked into the mill, where Old John personally placed his piece of black bread and a bowl of thin vegetable soup on a nearby wooden stump.
Matthew thanked Old John. Just as he sat down and picked up the hard, coarse, bran-filled black bread to take a bite, a figure approached and sat down right next to him.
It was Edmond, Old John's son. A year older than Matthew, he had a stocky build and the simple, honest smile typical of farm boys. He held another piece of black bread in his hand.
“Here, Matthew. My mom baked a bit extra today, so I'm sharing some with you,” Edmond said, shoving half of a thick loaf of bread into Matthew's hand without giving him a chance to refuse.
Matthew took the bread, feeling a warmth in his heart.
Edmond's father was the mill owner, so his family's living conditions were much better than Matthew's. After learning about the tragedy in Matthew's family, he had taken extra care of him.
Otherwise, how could Matthew have recovered so quickly on a working meal of just two pieces of bread a day?
“Thank you, Edmond.”
Edmond shook his head and continued,
“Instructor Calm is calling for village training tonight at the threshing floor. Are you going?”
Matthew knew about the village training.
This was not a regular occurrence in Stone Mill Village. Instead, it was a temporary training session for the young and able-bodied, called by the resident instructor, Calm, whenever unusual movements in the Shadow Forest became frequent and the threat of monsters intensified.
The purpose was simple: to ensure the villagers wouldn't be completely helpless in the face of an actual attack, and at least know how to form defensive lines and swing their farm tools for basic resistance.
He had wanted to participate in the village training for a long time.
Having just transmigrated, still shaken, and having witnessed the great power of an extraordinary knight with his own eyes, his anxiety over his own safety and his thirst for power had almost reached their peak.
However, he was barred by the strict requirements of the training.
First was age, and second, Matthew's body was simply too weak, falling far short of the standards.
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