Weed was inherently inclined to routine physical labor. All this time, the instructor was watching him with awfully gratified eyes.
Three weeks had passed.Weed logged on to Royal Road on a daily basis, except for minimum sleeping hours, to the point of addiction.His physical condition, which he had resolved to build up before he started the game, enabled him to sleep no more than four hours a day. Now that he looked back at the last three weeks, it made him sick to even think of it.
Once he signed into the game, he spent eighty hours on average striking the scarecrow monotonously, which had mentally worn him out. Had it not been for pop-up messages encouraging him, he would have given up.
In Royal Road, a new stat is sometimes created besides the original ones.
Pop-up messages related to the skill occasionally appeared, too.The only skill Weed had at that point was Sword Mastery.
Every time a pop-up message appeared, Weed was secretly delighted by the progress he was making. But what was deeply troubling him was a sense of frustration that he had been falling behind in his goals.
For the last three weeks, as he devoted himself to beating down the scarecrows, his strength had increased only by twenty-eight points, agility twenty-five, and vitality twenty-two.
“Unless I pick up my pace, I’ll end up wasting more precious time on this scarecrow even after the restriction is lifted. I must finish it before I can leave the Citadel.”
Weed’s eyes burned with determination.
*Rumble*
At that moment, Weed’s stomach decided it was time to eat. Aside from slow progress with his stats, he was tormented by the fact that he was running out of bread.
He could run to a nearby fountain and fill the canteen with water, but bread was different – he had to pay money for it.
*Sniff* He smelled an appetizing scent coming from somewhere.
Weed, swinging the wooden sword, paused and caught a glimpse of the instructor, who was taking out his lunchbox for the lunch break.
“Hehe, Honorable Instructor.” As Weed wagged his invisible tail, he walked to the instructor.
“Hmm, who is this, none other than Weed-nim? What has brought you here?” the instructor said warmly.
“Wouldn’t it be lonely to have lunch alone? I am here to keep you company,” Weed said obsequiously.
*Growl* While his stomach growled, Weed lied with a straight face, but he could not deceive the instructor.
“I take it that you are hungry. Sit beside me! I have brought plenty of food, sufficient to feed two mouths.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Enough with your humility! It is my honor to serve a meal to a would-be great adventurer like you, Weed-nim. I assure you that your reputation will someday resound beyond the bounds of the Citadel of Serabourg. When that day comes, please remember me!”
“Yes, Sir. I certainly will.”
After flattering the instructor lightly, Weed enjoyed lunch together with him. It was kind of a sad scene, yet he was grateful that with little effort, he could stuff his belly.
He wasn’t sucking up to a real man, anyway. What was the big deal about smooth-talking an NPC with artificial intelligence?
Beside the stats that Weed had increased while beating the scarecrow for the last three weeks, he established an affinity with the instructor. This supplementary effect was somewhat admirable.
While Weed was busy devouring lunch, the instructor suddenly asked, “By the way, Weed-nim, what do you think of Sculpture Mastery?”
Sculpture mastery? What the heck is sculpture mastery?
Weed chewed a mouthful of boiled rice and swallowed it before he asked back, “What do you mean by Sculpture Mastery?”
“I am merely curious of your opinion. I wonder what sort of view you have about Sculpture Mastery in general,” the instructor said.
AI that moment, the speed of Weed’s brain racking, despite it being absurd to convert it to a numerical value, multiplied roughly by five.
I’ve so far figured out that the instructor is a simple-minded and nearsighted guy. He sincerely believes that the sword is invincible, and to him, it’s the highest virtue to exercise hard enough to break out in a sweat in the Training Hall. And now he’s asking me what I think about Sculpture Mastery?
As soon as Weed collected his thoughts, he frowned.
“Honorable Instructor! I can’t believe you even mentioned it. I am a man of the sword. Did you ask for my opinion upon, God forgive me, Sculpture Mastery? I am most disappointed. This is my answer—never, ever, not even once has such a lowly handicraft crossed my noble mind.”
Despite Weed’s offensive tone, which would have enraged him in other situations, the instructor unexpectedly clapped his hands in delight.
“I knew you would say so!”
“It is out of question. The likes of Sculpture Mastery are nothing but awful mistakes of God which do not deserve a second of our attention. Why do I, a man of the sword, need to ever think of it?”
“You are most agreeable, Weed-nim” Weed sensed that, though it was invisible, his friendship with the instructor moved to a higher degree at that moment.
This is the way to make friends with somebody. You don’t need to shed blood with them. You don’t need to squander time and money on them. You just join them in speaking ill of something at the first opportunity, and it will invoke their sympathy.
Weed expected the instructor to change the topic of the conversation, but he rubbed the back of his head and stayed on the subject.
“It is rumored that the unknown man who mastered sculptural and once carved the moonlight,” the instructor said.
“I doubt it, sir. A rumor is always prone to distortion. How can anyone learned in worthless Sculpture Mastery carve the moonlight? Perhaps it was a pebble in the shape of a moon,” Weed said cheerfully.
“You think so, too? But I was told by my predecessor. His honorable name is Mellium, currently a Royal Knight…”
Sculptural was perceived as a fruitless skill, no more than trimming a small block of wood to produce a fine ornament.
Rumor had it that if you elevated the craft beyond a certain stage, you would be capable of making projectile weapons of metal. But it was undoubtedly one of those obsolete skills that nobody bothered learning.
“On that account Weed-nim, this question of Sculpture Mastery intrigues me. It surely is beyond doubt that the craft cannot possibly rival our sword under any circumstances, but would you find out whether the rumor has a grain of truth? I am asking a favor of you because you are a trustworthy man. If you accept my request, I’d be happy to hear it,” the instructor said.
Then a pop-up message appeared in front of Weed’s eyes.
*Ting*
Weed barely held a whisper of triumph at bay. His instinct told him that this quest was the rarest of the rare.
This was because the quest had to meet very tricky conditions in order to get it started. Close friendship with the instructor—who would have ever thought of that?
Most users in general don’t even know the location of the Training Hall, let alone visit it when they acquire a new skill, they don’t need to come all that way to practice it on a scarecrow of all things. Moreover, it is a rare occasion that anyone is willing to get stuck in the Hall and thrash the scarecrow over and over to bring up his stats in the crudest way, as Weed had done.