Chapter 192 | Bound by Gear, Forged by Power

Matthew's heart stirred slightly at those words.

Ten gold coins—even with his current net worth, this was not a small expense. But what concerned him more was the assessment itself...

It has almost no real value, he thought, shaking his head inwardly.

Evaluating someone as Silver Rank based solely on "enduring twenty exchanges under the examiner's offensive and hitting designated areas" was simply too much of a joke.

How could a true life-and-death struggle be so superficial?

Moves could be imitated, and strength could be held back. How could the split-second decisions of actual combat, the resolve to trade injuries for a kill, or even a desperate burst of power in a dire situation ever be reflected in such a standardized test?

But on second thought, this was perhaps the "practical" side of the adventurer guild. The badge was meant to facilitate actions and set a threshold, not to serve as a true yardstick of life-and-death strength.

Moreover, as a newcomer, there was no need for him to attract unnecessary attention for a hollow title.

“I choose the Brass Rank,” Matthew said in a calm tone, retrieving a gold coin from his coat and handing it to the examiner.

An air of surprise that was hard to conceal flickered in the examiner's eyes.

It was not because the rank was too low, but rather because it was somewhat high.

In his view, for someone of Matthew's age, if he really came from a commoner background, possessing Black Iron Rank strength was already no easy feat—that was a threshold one could only reach after experiencing life-and-death situations or possessing outstanding talent.

As for the Brass Rank... that was usually the standard for noble descendants.

They had been steeped in abundant resources since childhood, guided in breathing techniques, provided with dedicated sparring partners for combat techniques, and never lacked potions, equipment, or secret manuals.

Such a starting point was simply a completely different life compared to a commoner.

These thoughts flashed through the examiner's mind, but his expression remained impassive as he nodded. “Very well, follow me.”

The testing process was as uneventful as expected.

Matthew did not reveal his true strength, responding to the examiner's offensive with a perfectly controlled rhythm. On the fifteenth exchange, he struck the examiner's wrist for the third time, then withdrew his stance and stepped back.

The examiner gave him a deep look. Without saying much, he turned and fetched a dark yellow brass badge engraved with a crossed sword and shield pattern.

“Your badge. Within the guild, you can use this to accept quests and access certain facilities. It can also serve as proof of identity in some places within the inner city.”

Matthew took it, offered his thanks, and turned to leave the training ground.

...

After putting on the brass badge, Matthew returned to the guild hall.

Though the badge was unremarkable, it acted like an invisible boundary. Most of the scrutinizing gazes that had occasionally drifted toward him earlier had now vanished.

The wanderers lingering in the hall, searching for novices to recruit or looking for a squad, merely glanced at his chest and naturally averted their eyes, no longer stepping forward to bother him.

He squeezed through the crowd and walked straight toward the reception window where he had applied for his qualification assessment earlier.

The young man behind the counter was looking down, sorting through a stack of forms. Hearing footsteps, he habitually raised his face, preparing to ask about his business in a routine manner.

Seeing that the visitor was the same commoner-looking youth from before, a trace of dismissiveness flickered in the depths of his eyes.

After all, although he was not a Class holder, his guild uniform and his status in the inner city had long given him plenty of confidence.

On ordinary days, even Class holders with Black Iron Rank badges were mostly polite in front of him—after all, many procedures, information, and even the convenience of accepting quests would go much smoother through his hands.

Matthew did not know what the other party was thinking, but he noticed that this window still had the fewest people, which was why he walked up to this counter again and spoke:

“I need to view the list of items available for exchange or purchase from the guild, focusing on weapons, armor, and various special materials.”

Hearing this, Derry was just about to give a perfunctory reply. However, when his gaze landed on the brand-new brass badge on Matthew's chest, all his prepared routine responses instantly froze in his throat.

The composure and hint of dismissiveness on his face were instantly replaced by an expression of unbelievable shock.

Just a moment ago, this plainly dressed young man who seemed to come from a commoner background had stood right here, paid a gold coin, and been led to the assessment field by an attendant. How much time had passed since then?

To complete the assessment and return wearing a Brass Rank badge in such a short amount of time could only mean two things: first, the assessment process was extremely smooth, or rather, resolved in a flash; second, he had a powerful background, and the examiner had gone easy on him.

But no matter which one it was, it was an existence he could not afford to offend.

At the thought of his own discourtesy just now, a layer of fine cold sweat instantly broke out on Derry's back.

Working here, he had seen all kinds of Class holders, and he understood one truth deeply: true experts were often unassuming in appearance, and the price of slighting them was sometimes far more than just losing a job.

Although there were regulations within the guild to protect staff members, if the other party chose to pursue the matter, or remembered this slight after becoming a high-level Class holder in the future, they would only need to express a bit of dissatisfaction at a critical moment to make his future life incredibly difficult.

Shock and regret poured over him like ice water, instantly snapping him back to reality.

The bit of confidence born from his inner-city status completely vanished, replaced by a mixture of panic and a desperate eagerness to make amends.

Seeing that Matthew's expression was calm, as if he had already forgotten what had just happened, Derry breathed a small sigh of relief and said repeatedly, “Of—of course! My lord, please wait a moment!”

As he responded quickly, he swiftly retrieved a thick, leather-bound booklet from beneath the counter and pushed it toward Matthew with both hands.

“This... this is the guild's latest exchange and procurement catalog. All listed items are guaranteed to be of high quality.”

He spoke faster, trying his best to make every word clear. “The weapons, armor, and special materials that you are focusing on, my lord, are classified in detail at the front, with the required exchange points or gold coin prices attached at the back. If there is anything unclear, or if you wish to learn about rare items not listed, I... I will look them up for you immediately.”

He kept his head lowered, not daring to meet Matthew's calm gaze again, only hoping in his heart that this newly minted Brass Rank Class holder would not hold his brief rudeness from earlier against him.

Matthew nodded, harboring no grudge over the other party's previous discourtesy.

His heart remained as calm as ever. If this receptionist had not been so snobbish and arrogant, he probably would not be guarding this deserted window all by himself, and Matthew would have had to squeeze into the crowd and wait in line for a long time instead.