Full-Time Wizard: Starting with Harvesting Wheat

On that day, old John, as the one holding the pliers, skillfully directed Roy to perform the forging.

To his delight, he discovered that the boy was like his other arm. Whenever he gave Roy the point of impact, force, or even angle for the strike, Roy could quickly find his rhythm and then execute his task perfectly.

It's even better than his own hands.

Gerrard, meanwhile, squatted humiliatedly to the side, unable to participate in this high-level match except for pumping out bellows.

Time flew by amidst the clanging of the hammer and the crackling of the fire, and before we knew it, it was evening.

Old John laughed heartily, slapping Roy's back heavily with his fan-like hand: "Kid, I have a feeling! With you here, I can forge a sword that meets the lord's requirements in four days at most!"

Roy didn't say much, but silently accepted the two money bags from Old John, his eyes shining.

One container held thirty copper coins, a reward entirely for him; the other held ten silver coins, a reward shared by both of them.

"You two can divide these ten taels of silver among yourselves." Old John yawned; he was old and his energy couldn't compare to these young men.

"Gerald..." Roy was the first to stuff thirty copper coins into his pocket. That was a considerable sum, enough to sustain him for a week. However, the bulk of the money was still in the silver coins.

He stared longingly at Gerald, who clearly knew Roy's intentions, snorted coldly, and took only three silver coins from him.

As soon as he reached his hand out of the purse, Roy shoved the purse into his pocket without hesitation, like a squirrel hiding a pine cone.

There seemed to be about five or six copper coins left at home. Now, all his possessions have reached seven silver and thirty-five copper coins!

A considerable amount of wealth.

He planned to use the money to buy some protein-rich food to compensate for the shortcomings of his body. Otherwise, even if his attributes were enhanced, his height and frame would not keep up, like a weak bean sprout trying to lift a heavy hammer. He could barely lift it, but it would be very difficult to use it effectively.

Besides, he was a tall man of 1.8 meters in his previous life, so his current perspective of only 1.5 meters is really too narrow.

Before leaving the blacksmith's shop, Gerald specifically warned him to hide his money pouch well. The first-place prize had likely already been targeted by some unscrupulous apprentices.

He even offered to escort him.

Roy was surprised by Gerald's kindness, but even if there were other apprentices with ulterior motives who wanted to rob him, with his strength, he could easily take down a few of them. If he added free fighting, he should be able to take on more than a dozen of them one-on-one.

Unless the other side has a weapon.

Roy didn't think it was a big deal; it was impossible for an apprentice to actually find so many people to ambush him.

He politely declined Gerrard's offer.

After leaving the blacksmith shop, he was in a very good mood and couldn't help but hum a soft hum.

After thinking for a moment, he took out the piece of iron from his pocket and focused his gaze on his face reflected in the iron.

Roy

[Race: 99.2% Human, 0.8% Unknown Bloodline (Removed)]

[Attributes: Strength 2.3, Constitution 0.6, Spirit 1.2, Magic Power 0.3]

【技能：锻打Lv.3(588/1000)，矿石煅烧Lv.1(53/100)，金属打磨Lv.1(50/100)，锁具製造Lv.1(48/100)，淬火Lv.1(2/100)，基础剑术Lv.1(38/100)，自由搏击Lv.2(2/500)】

Height: 1.51m

……

[Remaining lifespan: 9 months and 21 days]

This is the result of his two weeks of time travel.

In some ways, it's not bad.

At this rate, finding something to improve attributes will make it easy to overpower several bloodline users.

He walked home with light steps.

As it turned out, Gerrard's words proved prophetic.

Just as Roy turned the corner not far from his home, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In the dim twilight, he was startled to see a dozen or so figures blocking the narrow dirt road in front of his house. Each of them was more than a head taller than him and had a burly build.

"Isn't that Pick, the drunkard from the tavern? And that one, is that Tom the beggar?"

Most of these guys were idlers in town. The drunkard uncle was always dead drunk and owed the tavern a mountain of debt. The beggar pretended to be lame to beg, but when he was exposed, he clung to people's trousers and wouldn't let them leave.

"Ha, they're all parasites."

Roy sneered inwardly. Since his transmigration, his memory had become extraordinary; he could memorize the faces of all the blacksmith's apprentices with just a few glances. He quickly scanned the group before him but couldn't find any apprentices.

"Could they be hiding them?"

Roy narrowed his eyes, deep in thought, when the group seemed to have spotted him. They stirred and, like hyenas that had smelled blood, rose and began to gather around him.

Fortunately, no weapons have been found on them so far. However, it's also possible they're concealed on their person.

Just as they closed in to within a dozen meters of Roy, a series of heavy footsteps suddenly sounded from behind him.

He instinctively turned around abruptly—

"Gerald?"

The young man had caught up with us at some point, carrying a long-handled object wrapped in bandages on his back, and looked arrogant.

But when he faced Roy, there was a hint of intimacy in his expression.

"I told you so." Gerald's lips curled into a slightly smug smile, as if he was pleased to finally have the upper hand over Roy in terms of experience. "There will always be some blind trash who will set their sights on you, this piece of fat meat."

The group of men who had been pressing forward suddenly stopped, their faces showing obvious fear. Firstly, they recognized the blacksmith's son; to fight him would mean making an enemy of Old John's blacksmith shop, and the old blacksmith was no pushover. Secondly, they didn't even need to look to know what the bandaged object was!

"Damn it! That bastard William didn't mention that!" one of the burly men cursed in alarm. "Didn't we agree to just rob a lone brat?!"

"William?" Gerald's eyes sharpened, and the names and faces of all the apprentices flashed through his mind in an instant, gradually revealing a sinister face.

He sneered, and his right hand lashed out at the corner of the bandage with lightning speed, pulling hard!

scoff!

Countless long bandages seemed to come alive, spinning and spreading out to form perfect spiral trajectories.

The thing sealed inside instantly awoke, its cold light flashing like a ferocious beast baring its sharp fangs.

That deep metallic sheen was captured precisely by Roy.

"What a sharp sword!" he exclaimed. "It's in no way inferior to the one we forged together!"

With the bandages removed, a sleek, cold-gleaming longsword made of fine iron was fully revealed, held firmly in Gerald's hand.

During practice, he always used a wooden training sword and rarely actually drew his iron sword. After all, as Old John said, once an iron sword is drawn, blood will surely splatter!

Gerald suddenly raised his sword high, the blade level with his shoulder, pointing it at the panicked crowd with unparalleled sharpness and power, his voice as cold as iron.

"Do you want to die?"

The group of people took several steps back, some of them tripped and fell to the ground in shock, then hurriedly got up.

Are you kidding me?! What do they have that could possibly be a match for such a weapon?!

Moreover, once you get a wound, in this era of scarce medical resources, isn't it tantamount to certain death?

It's not worth risking your life for a little money!

Their faces instantly plastered with obsequious smiles, and they bowed and scraped repeatedly: "It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding! We mistook you for someone else, we'll be leaving right away!"

"Weak." Gerald spat dismissively, watching the group turn away, wanting to escape as quickly as possible.

"etc."

A clear, yet death knell-like sound rang out calmly behind them.

"You...can't leave yet."

Click!

Click!

Roy slowly twisted his wrist, and his joint made a clear and powerful popping sound.

He looked at Gerrard and said something inexplicable.

"You know what, Gerald? The person who fired the shot—" The cracking of bones was like a danger signal, "must also be prepared to be shot at any time."

He slowly stepped forward, his steps heavy yet powerful.

"Using weapons will only make them retreat temporarily."

"If you no longer have a sword, that will be the time for their revenge."

Gerrard paused for a moment, then found it quite reasonable.

"So..." Roy grinned broadly, "Don't use a sword. Use your fists."

Before he finished speaking, he shot off like an arrow released from a bow.