Contrary to what he had imagined, the Secret Silver Body Tempering Technique didn't describe any method of physical conditioning.
Compared to the Body Refining Technique Roland had envisioned, it was more like a unique Potion formula.
The method involved grinding various materials into a powder, mixing them evenly, and applying the mixture all over the body. And then...
'And then it must be paired with a Breathing Technique for assisted cultivation, otherwise, the effects will be greatly diminished?'
Reading the last sentence at the bottom of the parchment, Roland couldn't help but frown. A moment later, he sighed and tried to console himself.
'Lesser effects are better than nothing, I suppose. It's better than not having it at all. Besides, something like a Breathing Technique... how could someone of my current status possibly get access to that?'
Muttering to himself, he carefully copied the medicinal ingredients required by the Potion formula onto a piece of cloth.
'Silver Leaf Grass, Nightshade Vine... wait, what is this Silver Dust?'
He was familiar with the first few ingredients.
When his predecessor's father was ill, he had run no shortage of errands to buy these herbs. Though expensive, they were at least relatively common.
But this Silver Dust was something he had never heard of.
What was more troublesome was that Silver Dust made up a huge portion of the formula; it was practically one of the main ingredients.
TSK...
Roland clicked his tongue and shook his head helplessly.
He had been so excited when he first discovered this scroll of the Secret Silver Body Tempering Technique.
According to the parchment's description, cultivating it would not only greatly increase his Power, but also enhance his body's resilience, which would perfectly compensate for his current shortcomings.
Moreover, he was still just a little short on the Power Attribute he needed to change his class to Blacksmith.
'Forget it...'
Seeing the sky darken outside the window, Roland rubbed his empty stomach.
'I should fill my stomach first and worry about the Body Tempering Technique later...'
With that thought, Roland pushed open his door and headed for the dining hall.
Some time had passed since the dinner bell rang.
So when he arrived, the usually bustling hall was now so quiet it felt nearly empty. Only a solitary figure sat on a long bench, mechanically chewing on food that had long gone cold.
"Mr. Bronson?"
A flash of pleasant surprise appeared in Roland's eyes when he recognized the man.
Although he had only known the introverted teacher for three days, Roland could tell from his speech and mannerisms that he was profoundly knowledgeable.
'Maybe he knows what Silver Dust is...'
Holding onto this hope, Roland dished up a portion of the few cold leftovers and took a seat next to Bronson.
"Mr. Bronson, why are you eating so late today?"
"Hm?"
Bronson looked up at the sound of his voice. Upon seeing it was Roland, he managed to pull the corners of his mouth into a tired smile.
He slowly swallowed the food in his mouth and replied in a gentle but weary voice.
"You're late, too... Were you focused on your studies?"
Roland dipped a piece of hard, dry black bread into the leftover broth from lunch before answering.
"Yes, Mr. Bronson. I spent the whole afternoon reading the novel you handed out."
"Is that so..."
Bronson gazed at the knowledge-hungry boy before him, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.
"I was notified on short notice, so I wasn't able to prepare proper teaching materials for you all. I do apologize."
"It's alright, Mr. Bronson."
Roland swallowed his food and, after a moment's hesitation, asked.
"It's just... there was something mentioned in the novel that made me curious. It's called 'Silver Dust.' Do you know what that is?"
"Silver Dust?"
Upon hearing the term, Bronson's movements clearly paused.
He tilted his head back slightly, his gaze growing distant as if lost in some faraway memory.
The dim, yellow light of the dining hall cast shifting shadows across his face.
A moment later, he finally spoke slowly.
"That's a common material in Alchemy, but..."
He turned his head, raising an eyebrow and revealing a meaningful smile.
"...that kind of specialized knowledge, involving Alchemy Skills, wouldn't appear in a novel meant for casual entertainment, would it?"
"Er... well..."
Facing Bronson's eyes, which seemed to see through everything, Roland's hand, holding his wooden spoon, froze in mid-air.
He suddenly realized that this normally mild-mannered and reserved teacher wasn't as simple as he appeared on the surface.
After subconsciously scratching his head, Roland swallowed nervously.
"No need to be nervous."
Bronson retracted his sharp gaze and picked up his wooden spoon again.
"Everyone has their secrets. I don't like to pry."
He methodically stirred the thick soup in his bowl.
"So... you need Silver Dust?"
"Y... Yes."
Seeing that the other man had laid it all out, Roland no longer tried to hide anything and nodded solemnly.
At this, the corners of Bronson's mouth lifted slightly.
"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 let out a soft chuckle, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Mr. Hawke was right. You really are clever."
He set down his utensils and folded his hands on the table.
"I need a custom-made Dagger. I hear... your Forging Skills are quite remarkable."
"A Dagger?"
Roland was slightly taken aback.
He had expected some harsh condition, not something as simple as forging a Dagger.
At his current skill level, it would be a piece of cake.
But then a thought suddenly crossed his mind.
Hawke's Forging Skills were clearly far superior to his own, and the two of them seemed to be acquainted. Why would Bronson take this roundabout route?
As if seeing through the doubt in Roland's heart, a wry smile appeared on Bronson's lips.
"I honestly can't afford Hawke's fee..."
he explained softly, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment.
Roland watched Bronson's slightly lowered eyelids. Although he felt the reason was a bit of a stretch, he still nodded slowly.
"Forging it is no problem, but Mr. Hawke has a rule: I'm not allowed to 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?"
Although he didn't get an immediate response, Bronson nodded meaningfully when he noticed that Roland's eyes showed no trace of discouragement.
"Finish your meal first. Come with me when you're done."
Seeing that Bronson had nothing more to say, Roland also fell silent, focusing on finishing the remaining food on his plate.
The already empty dining hall now felt even more desolate, with only the crisp clatter of cutlery occasionally echoing through the room.
"Let's go."
A moment later, seeing Roland put down his utensils, Bronson calmly took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, elegantly wiped the corners of his mouth, and was the first to rise and walk out.
Seeing this, Roland quickly followed.
The two of them passed through winding corridors and finally arrived at the most remote corner of the manor.
Under the moonlight, a small, dilapidated hut stood there in isolation.
"Wait for me out here."
The moment Bronson pushed the door open and entered, an indescribable smell assaulted Roland's senses.
Through the crack in the door, Roland caught a glimpse of the scene inside.
Books were scattered all over the floor, leaving almost no room to stand, and at the far end, a mottled wooden table was covered with an assortment of bizarrely shaped instruments.
Just as Roland tried to make out more details, the door was shut.
When Bronson reappeared, he was holding a cloth pouch tied shut with a silver ribbon.
"This is the Silver Dust you wanted. As for this..."
He took out a blueprint from his coat, its edges badly frayed.
"It's the design for the Dagger. I hope to receive the finished product within three months."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of Bronson's lips.
"I trust you won't disappoint me, will you?"
The moonlight cast a layer of cool-toned shadow over his face.
Roland stared for a moment before finally giving a solemn nod.