In the afternoon, Matthew no longer needed to work at the mill.
Since his reputation soared in the village after he shot and killed the wild boar alone, things had changed.
Whenever there were tasks requiring guards, patrolling the surrounding area, or similar security duties that needed physical force, the village would directly recruit him to participate.
Of course, this wasn't unpaid village duty, but rather a secure, stable gig. The village would pay him a certain reward, usually in food or copper coins.
This was undoubtedly a good thing for Matthew.
First, he had more free time at his disposal, allowing him to practice his breathing technique deeply and hone his basic skills with much more ease.
Second, he really did need these rewards, especially the food.
He found that as his proficiency with the White Snake Breathing Technique steadily climbed, his body received minor, all-around enhancements, but his energy consumption also became exceptionally staggering.
That once-hefty wild boar had actually been completely consumed by him in just over ten days!
Such a terrifying appetite made even him gasp in amazement.
If he hadn't switched to this new job with the village's pay to supplement him, combined with the daily, minor catches from his traps, his previous meager ration quota from working at the mill would have left him in the red long ago, unable to support such high-consumption training.
“'The poor study, the rich practice martial arts.' The old saying is indeed true.”
Matthew thought about the events of the past few days as he drew his bow, aiming at a sparrow in the sky.
“The breathing technique really is a money-devouring beast... no, a food-devouring beast.”
As for the evenings, his life hadn't changed much.
Matthew would still practice his Basic Swordsmanship.
With these thoughts in mind,
Matthew slowly lowered his bow and calmed his slightly rapid breathing. He quickly picked up the sparrow that had been shot down, skillfully pulling out the arrow and wiping away the blood.
Sparrow meat was still meat!
For the current Matthew, every drop of the energy it contained was precious.
He stuffed the still-warm little body into the cloth pouch at his waist, which already held countless sparrow carcasses.
With a thought, he brought up his attribute panel to inspect his progress over this period.
【Name: Matthew
Age: 15
Strength: 6.8 (+0.5), Agility: 5.6 (+0.4), Constitution: 6.8 (+0.6), Perception: 5, Spirit: 6
Equipment: Finely Forged One-Handed Sword (Green), Old Wooden Shortbow (White), Filthy Bone Chain (White)
Skills: 【Basic Archery: Basic (45/200)】
【Basic Swordsmanship: Basic (174/200)】
【Vine Trap: Practiced (46/300)】
【White Snake Breathing Technique: Mastered (86/100)】
...】
Sweeping his gaze over them, his stats were all steadily increasing.
His breathing technique was not far from breaking through the Mastered level, his Basic Swordsmanship was also on the verge of a breakthrough, and the proficiency of his archery and traps was accumulating bit by bit through daily use and practice.
“It's time to head into the forest again this afternoon,” Matthew thought, closing the panel.
During this period, he had entered the Shadow Forest to patrol a total of four times.
He had encountered goblins a few times, but it was always a false alarm, and he had retreated safely.
But this did not make Matthew let down his guard.
He knew how unpredictable the forest was; unknown dangers could be lurking beneath the calm. Every time he entered, he was fully armed, maintaining a Perception-based marching state where his breathing technique synchronized with his steps, keeping his alertness at its peak.
This state not only made him more sensitive to changes in his surroundings, but it also increased his stamina consumption.
After all, Instructor Calm always maintained absolute caution...
After packing up his bow, arrows, and prey, Matthew headed back to the village along the path by the wheat fields.
The midday sun dyed the golden waves of wheat with a warm red hue, and the air was filled with the fragrance of ripening grain.
On the way, any villagers he met would proactively greet him.
“Matthew, how's the harvest today?” an old man resting by the ridge of the field waved his straw hat, a kind smile on his face.
“Not bad, Grandpa Brown,” Matthew replied with a nod, not stopping his steps.
“Kid Matthew, out hunting again? Your skills are getting better and better!” a middle-aged man carrying a hoe and preparing to finish work called out in a booming voice, his tone full of clear praise.
A few children playing at the entrance of the village stopped their roughhousing when they saw him, calling out with a mix of shyness and admiration, “Brother Matthew!”
An auntie even poked her head out of her courtyard gate and called out warmly, “Matthew, I just baked some rye bread. Do you want to take a couple back with you?”
“Thank you, but there's no need. I have food here,” Matthew politely declined, though a touch of warmth welled up in his heart.
These changes had quietly occurred after he hunted the wild boar alone, and they became increasingly apparent as he continued to participate in the village guard duties and demonstrate stable, reliable capability.
The way the villagers looked at him was no longer just seeing a quiet orphan or a mill hand, but now carried a degree of respect reserved for a “capable young man.”
This rise in status did not stem from power or authority, but from solid strength and contributions.
And this change had taken only about two months.
Returning home, Matthew set about preparing lunch.
The village provided a daily ration of six pieces of black bread and a strip of dried meat, which was quite generous.
He broke the black bread apart, cut the dried meat into small pieces, and took out the wild rabbit he had caught in his trap that morning, carving off a portion of fresh meat to stew them all together.
With his continuous practice of the White Snake Breathing Technique, his demand for food grew day by day. Only by combining these fixed rations with his own hunting spoils could he barely meet his daily consumption.
While waiting for the food to stew, Matthew did not idle.
He walked to a relatively open corner of the room, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and adjusted his breathing, quickly entering the practice state of the White Snake Breathing Technique.
In just a brief moment, a thin wisp of white qi slowly seeped from his nose and mouth, and even from the pores of his entire body, coiling around him like an early morning mist.
As he got into the zone, Matthew's mind grew even calmer, and his guidance of the breath became increasingly precise. The originally thin white qi gradually began to grow thick and solid.
However, although this white qi was much denser than before, it still failed to take that step further and condense into the clear, agile, lifelike “white snake” form that Instructor Calm had demonstrated.
Matthew was not impatient. He knew that practicing a breathing technique required letting things take their natural course, not to mention he was already highly satisfied with his current progress.
【White Snake Breathing Technique proficiency +1】
【White Snake Breathing Technique proficiency +1】
...
Meanwhile.
Outside the village, a small, travel-worn group was approaching.
Leading them was a finely dressed young man with a hint of impatience written between his brows.
Following half a step behind the young man was a withered old servant carrying an odd-looking scythe, yet possessing a highly refined aura.
Further back were four adventurers clad in leather armor and carrying various weapons—three men and one woman.
“Flynn,” the young man stopped his steps, frowning as he looked toward the faintly visible outline of the village in the distance, his tone skeptical. “Could there really be a Brass Rank class holder in a backwater place like this? It's not just some fabricated rumor, is it?”
“There is no mistake, Young Master Brody,” Flynn bowed slightly, his voice steady and certain.
“The source of the information is reliable. When Calm served at Grey Rock Outpost years ago, he was already a Brass Rank Guardian. His strength is well-documented.”
“He later retired due to injuries and chose to live in seclusion in this village. His strength is beyond doubt.”
Brody curled his lip, clearly lacking sufficient respect for a retired veteran living in seclusion in some village.
“I hope so.”
He gave a perfunctory reply, but a wave of irritation and unwillingness welled up in his heart.
Rate on N.U.
