Early the next morning.
Amidst the clanging sound of blacksmithing, Lann placed his Bear School silver sword against the wall in the village's blacksmith workshop.
"Thank you, Ivan."
Lann looked up to greet the blacksmith, Ivan.
"Don't worry, come back in an hour. The elder instructed that the silver plating on your sword will be credited to the village account. The quality of this batch of silver ingots is impeccable."
Ivan, with his arm shining with oil by the fire, proudly patted his storage chest.
According to him, the stock here either comes from Vizima or Gos Velen.
His skill isn't great, but it's good enough to replenish the edge of a silver sword.
Bordeaux's silver sword hadn't been repaired since he was wanted, and yesterday it cut down eighteen water ghosts in a row, wearing away a significant part of the silver plating.
Worth at least two Oren.
The young man's studded leather gloves waved in the air as he left the blacksmith workshop.
He couldn't help but commend the wisdom of his decision once again.
If he lived in a big city, let alone the rent and social rejection, and the ensuing secret sabotage.
At least you couldn't dream of getting such attentive service and free treatment.
"Ugh-"
Walking on the village's wooden path, Lann occasionally pressed his temple.
"Yesterday was a bit too intense, Mentos."
The young man grumbled.
"I have fully recorded your feedback, but please..."
"Enough already... don't recite your rules to me!"
"...Alright, sir."
Knowing he would get the same answer every time, Lann still couldn't help but complain after his mind was filled with knowledge like a soda bottle.
But all in all, Mentos's capabilities remain undeniably superior.
Last night, in the skill analysis section, the [Trace Detection] from Bernie, an old hunter, reached 13%.
This equates to 13% of Bernie's proficiency and knowledge reserve in this skill.
The effects were obvious after a night's infusion, as Lann now walked on the wooden path.
His feet brushed across a dent mark and instantly recognized it as being from a week to a month ago, caused by a barrel tipping and impact.
With his demon hunter's sense of smell, he also knew that only fish-filled barrels and wine barrels passed through this road.
"If I didn't want to fight, being a detective would be more than enough."
Suddenly, Lann thought of this.
But he quickly smirked at himself, since very few would hire someone with cat eyes to investigate something they wanted to know.
Demon hunters as detectives might have the technical skill, but that didn't stop them from starving due to lack of work.
"Sir, I do not recommend you indulge in reflection right now. According to the plan, you need to immediately take your cotton armor outer cover for repair in preparation for this afternoon's hunt. Your [Surgical] skill still needs a lot of practice materials, the [Biological Construct] project still has large blanks waiting to be filled, and [Trace Detection] also requires follow-up analysis of target individuals."
"Am I not on my way? Just those few little holes, it'll be done in no time."
The young man put down his hand from his temple, muttering to himself.
[Surgical] is a practical skill, different from [Trace Detection], which inherently relies on the accumulation of knowledge and experience.
Mere knowledge infusion is extremely limited in effect; it requires Lann to practice hands-on, with Mentos making corrections in real-time to improve mastery.
[Bear School Swordsmanship] and [Riding], these kinds of skills also fall into this category.
Walking along the plank road above the lake, winding between wooden houses.
"Isn't it this way? As Old Allen described, 'the woman with the best stitching skills'."
The wooden houses are messily built, after all, this is a village of about a hundred people, with around thirty houses.
Even the village elder could only vaguely point in a direction when describing the tailor's location.
The smell of the fishing village is certainly not pleasant, particularly in such primitive fishing and hunting settlements.
Fish blood in the cracks of the planks, exposed to wind and sun, smells worse than rotting meat in summer.
A demon hunter's sense of smell is keen, and while the young man was at the tail end of dizziness, Lann was momentarily unsure of which way to go.
And just then, a familiar young voice came through the gap between the wooden houses.
He had heard this voice in the tavern last night.
"Demon Hunter Master, are you... looking for someone?"
The voice was cautious, with a hint of poorly concealed flattery.
Lann's originally dazed cat eyes suddenly cleared up, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head.
He turned stiffly to face the child. The man who wouldn't blink at slashing a Water Ghost now didn't quite dare to meet the child's eyes.
In Lann's heart, he was a debtor.
"Um, my, my cotton armor needs mending, I'm here to find a tailor with good skills."
The boy suddenly brightened, "A good tailor? My mom... no, I know the best tailor in Auridon! I can take you there!"
With that, the boy quickly approached the young man to lead the way.
Lann followed step by step.
On the slippery wooden path, the boy showed none of the resentment from the tavern corner last night.
He joyfully skipped along, his big head and small body due to malnutrition made him look like a walking tumbler toy.
Lann saw very clearly that on this path, the boy several times tried to start a conversation, but after opening and closing his mouth a few times, he sheepishly gave up.
For children, a flattering smile is easy enough, but fawning words are truly hard to say.
After a while, sensing that Lann also had no intention of speaking, the boy sighed with great relief.
As if avoiding small talk was a great benefit to him.
His steps became even more light and joyous.
—A very real social anxiety.
As they approached a wooden house, the boy seemed to finally face a task he couldn't avoid.
"Master," the boy stammered with courage.
"Though I have nothing to do with her, this tailor's skills are really good, even patches are sturdy and beautiful!"
"You can't always live in armor, right? I think if you make some casual clothes here, they surely won't wear out for years, it's totally worth it!"
"You knock on the door here, I'll take my leave now."
Someone inside seemed to have heard the noise and came to open the door, while little White turned and hurriedly left.
In no time, he disappeared around the corner of the wooden house.
The door creaked open, and a woman with an unmistakable fatigued and thin look stood inside.
It was White's mother.
"Elder Allen has already informed me, it was also me and a few companions who mended your cotton armor yesterday. Is it still holding up well?"
Seeing Lann, the farmwife immediately perked up, smiling and welcoming him in.
The house is of normal size for Auridon, and the wooden floor is very clean.
It's not hard to imagine the effort this farmwife puts into maintaining the household environment, even without a man at home.
The furniture, however, makes the place appear quite sparse due to the sudden decrease in family labor.
Presumably, some have been sold.
The young man felt more nervous now than his first encounter with a monster.
Because then he had a clear conscience and fought only for victory.
But now...
"V-very good, the Water Ghost's claws tore a few spots, but the seam on the belly was never an issue. Truly excellent craftsmanship."
"Is that so, then I'm relieved."
White's mother helped Lann take off the cotton armor, preparing to start mending.
Lann was left in Bear School Armor breeches and a linen undershirt on the upper body.
"Just now at the door, was there a kid recommending you get some more clothes?"
The farmwife rummaged through the cabinet in the corner for sewing tools while asking Lann.
"Yes, a boy, he said he didn't know you."
"Haha, that's my son, I'm called Donna."
White's mother laughed heartily, "Please forgive him, he just wants to get me a bit more easy work. A stranger's suggestion works way better than a seller's relative's recommendation... that's probably what he thought? Haha, clever boy!"
"Of course, if you really need some clothes, you're very welcome. After all, it's a bit tiring even when women go to the fishing ground, even just to help."
Lann pursed his lips and nodded.
His cat eyes continued to scan the house, which could be described as destitute yet neat and tidy, with brows furrowed beyond smoothing.
"I will, I-I need many sets of clothes, after all, someone like me inevitably wears them out quickly. But Madam Donald..."
"The elder and the village, haven't they helped you?"
The Demon Hunter issued a sharp inquiry.