Chapter 7: Attribute Enhancement

The man before him was clad in coarse, gray linen, his sleeves and pant legs rolled up, resembling an old farmer who had just returned from the fields. Yet his complexion was rosy like an infant’s, and he strode with the vigor of a tiger. Meeting his gaze, Charles felt strangely dazzled.

He was much shorter than Marcus, lacking the latter’s robust build—his figure was tall and slender, just a little taller than Charles himself, and his eyes held a hint of suspicion as he looked at him.

“Old Ox, the young master wants to learn some martial skills, but his constitution is too weak.” Marcus, with his long strides, walked over and threw an arm around the man’s shoulders, his square, rugged face breaking into a flattering smile. “Whatever good stuff you have, bring it out. No use letting it go moldy, right?”

“Good day, Uncle Ox,” Charles greeted him, a little awkwardly.

The pressure this man exerted far surpassed that of Marcus; it was as if he were an insurmountable mountain. Charles even felt that he could be crushed with a single careless slap from him.

This sensation was odd, perhaps arising after the fusion of two souls—a heightened spiritual perception, for he could never sense Marcus’s strength before.

“The young master wants to learn martial arts?” The man pushed Marcus aside and scrutinized Charles, shaking his head. “You’re a bit old now. Your bones have mostly formed and hardened; many actions could easily lead to sprains or fractures.”

Thud!

Marcus slapped the man’s back and said boisterously, “Old Ox, stop hiding things from me. If you want something, just say it. Isn’t it my fine wine you’re after? I’ll have someone bring you a barrel later!”

He spoke with some reluctance; those wines were rewards he and the baron received after suppressing bandits in Storm City, and such quality couldn’t be bought anywhere.

“All right,” the man sighed, helpless. “To strengthen his body, you’ll need a herb called Boneflower. You have to seek it in the Twilight Forest. Bring it back, and I’ll prepare a medicinal bath for him.”

“No problem! I’ll go right away.” After confirming its appearance, Marcus readily agreed and hurried off with Charles, while the man called after them, “Don’t forget to bring me the wine!”

Once outside, Charles saw a young girl approaching.

She looked to be twelve or thirteen, wearing a green cotton dress, her pale arms exposed, her cheeks plump and rosy, and she was exquisitely cute—just like the pampered daughters of noble families.

In her hand was a rice cake wrapped in yellow paper, which she ate with relish, oblivious to the sticky crumbs on her face. When she noticed Charles, her brown eyes widened in surprise. She suddenly exclaimed, “On your body…”

“Rice Cake! You little rascal, get back here right now! All you do is run wild every day!” came a thunderous shout from the pharmacy, startling the girl. She shrank back, muttering, “What a hot-tempered, rotten uncle!”

Charles stood frozen, sensing the girl’s gaze was oddly intense—as if she were looking at a dead man.

Before he could ask, she skipped past him, licking the remnants of rice cake from the yellow paper as she went.

“Young master, you’d better head home. I’ll take some men to the Twilight Forest to search for the herb. You go ahead with your studies,” Marcus halted by the carriage, calling out with a puzzled look.

Charles came to himself and apologized, “Sorry to trouble you again.”

The Twilight Forest was not like the Moonlight Forest; it was home to countless fearsome beasts, where even wolves ranked at the bottom of the food chain.

Legend had it that at the deepest part of the Twilight Forest, there were terrifying monsters capable of destroying Westspring Fortress in a single rampage.

Of course, it was only a legend. If such monsters truly existed, Westspring Fortress would not have stood for a thousand years.

Yet the horrors of the Twilight Forest were well known; it had devoured countless herbalists, becoming a forbidden zone in their minds.

“It’s nothing. Serving the young master is my duty. Rest assured, with my current strength, few beasts could even hurt me!” Marcus laughed heartily, his laughter bold and wild.

“Yes, I believe you,” Charles replied, nodding.

…

Back in the study, Charles resumed his reading.

The Imperial Royal Academy’s entrance exam grew harder each year. Noble etiquette was fundamental, along with politics, territory management, tax basics, and more.

This academy was the cradle for training heirs of nobility and future administrators of the nation. Once graduated, even the least successful could serve as a local tax or security officer.

Outstanding graduates might even receive invitations from princes and princesses to become their advisors, and if their patron ascended the throne… such prospects drew countless hopefuls.

Though emperors are said to be heartless, those who served them from their princely days still enjoyed many privileges. The current Imperial Finance Minister was once the emperor’s advisor—a perfect example!

After some time, Charles found the books tedious; reading them felt no different from studying politics in his previous life, and he could hardly absorb anything.

The intricacies of noble etiquette made him want to curse whoever devised them. They covered every aspect of life: meetings with the emperor, princes, ministers, noble gatherings, and more, all compiled in a tome as thick as a dictionary.

“White Spirit!”

He murmured inwardly, and the translucent interface appeared, but unfortunately, no skills had formed.

In other words, knowledge of etiquette couldn’t be forcibly improved through the system.

Where exactly did evolution points come from?

Charles still hadn’t figured out their source. Earlier, raising basic swordplay from beginner to novice had only cost 0.5 evolution points.

Now, he had 12 points left, and without knowing their exact origin, he had to be careful in spending them.

Thinking this, his gaze unconsciously settled on the attribute panel, and to his astonishment, he saw the physical stats faintly flickering—meaning he could use evolution points to enhance them!

He exhaled deeply, suppressing his excitement, and focused his mind on the constitution stat.

Click, click, click!

Suddenly, he felt his whole body lighten, a warm current flowing from his head downward, coursing through every part of him in an instant. He vaguely heard faint popping sounds within, reminiscent of the growth spurts he had felt in his youth.

Charles was amazed to see his frail body appear slightly stronger.

At the same time, the constitution stat had risen from 0.5 to 0.6, while evolution points dropped by 0.5.

“You can do that?!”

He blurted out, vaguely realizing the true purpose of evolution points—to drive him ever upward, to evolve without end.

Everything served to enhance his strength: attributes, totem crafting, all allowed him to grow stronger.

His eyes shone as he gazed at the remaining points; they were enough to boost all three attributes to 1.

And 1 should represent the physical fitness of an ordinary soldier—far stronger than he was now.

But he forcibly suppressed his urge, muttering, “It’s far from enough. I must save them for the most crucial moment, and wait for the medicinal bath to improve further. Besides, a sudden surge in strength would never escape Marcus’s notice!”

He increasingly sensed Marcus’s power—his attributes surely exceeded 1, perhaps several times over. Otherwise, he could never slaughter a band of brigands single-handedly.