With this in mind, Matthew's thoughts naturally drifted further:
“However, a place capable of gathering or even artificially creating a high-concentration energy environment must be something only a powerful wizard organization like the Fire Vortex Tower would have the ability to build and control.”
He shook his head, temporarily pushing aside this currently unattainable thought.
His gaze swept over the progress of his remaining skills.
Most of his skills maintained a steady, even pace of improvement, but one of them showed a slight acceleration.
The progress of 【Energy Missile】 had actually sped up by a tiny but noticeable margin.
This was another advantage of the panel: even the most minuscule progress could be precisely captured and visually displayed, serving as a source of motivation to encourage Matthew.
“Perhaps because my Spirit has increased, I've been able to practice it more times,” Matthew muttered to himself, anticipation rising in his heart. “I really want to know what kind of power 【Energy Missile】 at the Novice level will have.”
He had not forgotten the shocking scene of a single missile collapsing a large tree back then.
Of course, where there was fast progress, there was also slow.
By contrast, the progress of 【Melting Slash】 had noticeably slowed down. He analyzed two reasons for this:
First, he no longer focused all his energy on practicing 【Melting Slash】 like he did when he was pushing to reach the Black Iron Rank; his training focus had already been divided.
Second, and more importantly: the supply of magical beast meat was insufficient.
【Melting Slash】 was highly dependent on life energy. With Matthew's current Black Iron Rank realm, he could only support five full-power executions in a single battle at most.
This number of times might already be an astronomical figure to other Black Iron Rank Class holders.
But the problem was that 【Melting Slash】 was currently at the “Novice level.” If he wanted to break through to the “Basic level,” he had to constantly polish and refine it through continuous and extensive practice.
However, every high-quality slash consumed a massive amount of energy, and the magical beast meat needed to support subsequent recovery and maintain daily training was in short supply.
This limited his effective practice sessions, so it was only natural that his progress was slow.
Still, this wasn't the critical issue.
For Matthew at this moment, practicing the “passive empowerment” of his archery combat technique was the top priority.
If he could successfully solidify this ability, it would be crucial for both improving his daily hunting efficiency and boosting his combat strength for the potential future hunt of the mountain giant bear.
He mentally simulated the details of the energy circulating between his eyes and arms for a while longer, feeling the warm current from the magical beast meat broth in his stomach continuously replenishing his body's consumption.
“Strike while the iron is hot.”
Matthew delayed no longer. Picking up his hunting bow again, he pushed open the wooden door and stepped back into the cold morning light and thin mist.
On the open ground, the vibration of the bowstring and the sound of arrows piercing the air soon began to ring out rhythmically.
...
Meanwhile.
On a sheltered slope outside Stone Mill Village, near the edge of the forest, several thick animal-hide tents had been set up, with a bonfire crackling in the center to dispel the cold.
“How's the situation, Porter?” A thin, short man squatted by the fire, vigorously tearing at a large leg of meat.
He asked the tall man who had just walked back into the camp in a muffled voice, his tone extremely casual.
Porter glanced at the short man, a trace of imperceptible disgust flashing deep in his eyes, but his expression remained unchanged as he replied in a deep voice, “I didn't get a clear answer.”
Hearing this, the thin, short man's lips curled up, and he wanted to say a few more words.
But when he caught Porter's gaze, his throat bobbed, and a flash of wariness quickly crossed his eyes. In the end, he closed his mouth and said nothing more.
At this moment, a younger man nearby handed Porter a waterskin. Looking at Porter with a touch of awe, he asked cautiously, “My lord, is that young man named Matthew really worth us valuing so highly?”
Porter turned his gaze to the flickering bonfire, his expression slightly complex.
“If my judgment is correct, that kid is probably not even eighteen yet,” he said slowly, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet camp. “Yet he's already at the Black Iron Rank. This kind of potential is practically an anomaly in these wilderness villages.”
He paused before continuing his analysis:
“Matthew's talent plays a large part in this, but my old friend also clearly values him highly. If we can persuade Matthew and have him put in a good word, it might add a sliver of a chance for Calm to join us.”
“Besides, Matthew is also at the Black Iron Rank. It wouldn't be bad if he joined us either.”
Hearing this, everyone's expressions varied as they weighed the pros and cons of this master-disciple pair joining them.
Porter swept his gaze around the group, secretly sighing to himself: ‘If not for Calm, this time probably wouldn't be so easy...’
Just as everyone was lost in thought.
A clear sound of footsteps approached from a distance, the distinct “crunching” of boots stepping on thick snow.
Hearing the sound, everyone in the camp snapped out of their thoughts and turned their eyes toward the direction of the noise.
Until Calm's one-armed figure appeared before them.
A bright and eager smile immediately appeared on Porter's face, and he strode forward to meet him, “Calm! You're finally here! We were just talking about you. Well, how have you thought about it?”
Porter pulled Calm toward the tents as he spoke. “In this weather, talking outside is freezing. Quick, get inside the tent to warm up, and we can chat over a drink!”
As he spoke, he stepped aside to lead the way, warmly ushering Calm toward the largest tent in the center while waving his hand at the others, signaling them not to follow.
Calm swept his gaze over the few people present, pausing slightly on the thin, short man, before entering the tent with Porter one after the other.
The inside of the tent was warm and tidy, a completely different world from the bitter cold outside.
Thick animal hides covered the ground, and a metal brazier was embedded in the center. The charcoal emitted a steady, gentle red glow, making the tent interior feel cozy and warm.
Porter carefully tied the door curtain shut, shutting out both the wind and snow as well as any prying eyes.
He picked up a wineskin and poured a cup of dark ale for both Calm and himself.
“Here, warm up first,” he said, pushing the cup in front of Calm.
Calm took it with a smile, had a small sip, and got straight to the point: “The Horn Chamber of Commerce is quite well-known in Abilan County... Why did they send you Finch?”
Hearing this, a helpless, bitter smile appeared on Porter's face.
He knew that with Calm's perceptiveness, he would definitely notice Finch, and he understood his doubts about it.
He put down the wineskin, his tone carrying a touch of explanation and candor. “The Chamber of Commerce is divided into many factions internally, as you well know. The faction I belong to has been really tight on funds lately, and we don't have many people to use. As for Finch...”
“He indeed has a bad record and a notorious reputation. But precisely because he just joined the Chamber, his foundation is unstable, and he is eager to prove himself. He won't, and doesn't dare to, harbor any other motives. You can rest assured, he won't dare to step out of line.”
“Furthermore, if I successfully break through to the Silver Rank and raise my status in the Chamber by a step, I can easily crush him. He wouldn't dare to play double-dealing games.”
Rate on N.U.
