[Detected: Eligible for High Tier Profession: Enchanter]

[Requirements: 4 Power, 3 Agility, 7 Spirit, Level MAX Basic Forging Skill, Level MAX Basic Magic Theory, Engraved Spell Patterns: 0/300]

[Host does not meet the advancement requirements.]

’My Power and Agility meet the requirements, and on top of that...’

Roland’s gaze fell upon his Professional Panel, and a satisfied smile touched his lips as he saw his Spiritual Attribute had reached a high of 8.3.

’My Spiritual Attribute is also well above the requirement. Now all I need are two Full Level Skills and three hundred Spell Pattern engravings.’

’Once I get back to the estate, I need to focus on honing my skills. I have to become an [Enchanter] as soon as possible!’

His mind made up, Roland scanned his ever-expanding Professional Panel one last time, then washed up and went to bed, content.

Lying on his soft bed, the silvery moonlight streamed in through the window.

Roland gazed at the night outside his window, his thoughts drifting far away.

’Before I knew it, it’s already been almost a year since I was transported to this world...’

’In less than a year, I’ve gone from a completely powerless nobody to a formidable expert with extraordinary strength.’

’With my current strength, as long as I don’t run into any extreme situations or an Extraordinary Professional, I should have more than enough power to protect myself. So, what’s next...’

Roland let out a long breath, reflecting on everything that had happened over the past year.

’Maybe it’s time to consider passing the Blacksmith Guild’s assessment, leaving the Golden Valley Kingdom, and searching for a Knight’s Breathing Technique elsewhere...’

’But I remember Master Hawke saying that you need recommendations from two guild members to even take the assessment, and besides Master Hawke, I don’t think I know any other blacksmiths... Never mind. I’ll figure all that out once I’m back at the estate...’

With that thought, Roland slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

For the next two days, Roland didn’t go out to practice his Flaming Arrow. Instead, he shut himself in his spacious room, focusing on adapting to the new Traits and various enhancements he’d gained from becoming a [Juggler].

SWOOSH!

The blade sliced through the air, glinting silver.

Halfway through a horizontal slash with his Iron Sword, Roland’s eyes narrowed. With a sudden twist of his wrist and elbow, he reversed the blade’s path at an incredibly tricky angle.

In an instant, the horizontal chop abruptly changed direction, transforming into a vicious upward slash.

And an instant before the sword’s motion ended, the dagger in his left hand shot out like a striking viper.

The two weapons danced to completely different rhythms.

The nimble dagger was wreathed in a powerful gale, while the Iron Sword, which should have been steady and solid, moved with the speed of lightning.

Finally, the two weapons crossed in mid-air, precisely striking at the throat of Roland’s imaginary foe.

"Hah..."

Relaxing his stance, Roland wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes glinting with excitement.

’The effects of [Twin Martial Arts] and [Steel Heart Resonance] are even more powerful than I expected. As for [Dazzling and Enchanting]... I haven’t had a chance to test it yet. I wonder how useful it will be in a real fight...’

As he was pondering this, a shout came from outside his window.

"Roland!"

Looking out the window toward the voice, he saw Dalko standing in the courtyard. He was wearing a well-tailored, deep blue velvet jacket with silver thread patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs, over a snow-white lace shirt.

A jewel-encrusted leather belt was fastened at his waist, and he wore crisp black riding breeches and gleaming leather boots. The man looked exceptionally elegant and noble in the sunlight, completely devoid of the dispirited air from just a few days ago.

"Hurry down, Roland!"

Dalko held up a package and waved his arm vigorously, shouting to his friend upstairs.

"I brought your clothes!"

Hearing this, Roland sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"If I’m supposed to change... shouldn’t you be the one to come up?"

"Oh! Right!"

It finally dawned on Dalko. He scratched his head in embarrassment, then disappeared from Roland’s sight.

A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

"When does the banquet start?"

Roland asked as he took the package from Dalko.

"It starts at noon."

Dalko replied with a smile, leaning against the doorframe.

"After you change, we can still wander around outside for a bit before heading to the banquet."

Roland nodded, placing the package on the wooden table and unfolding it.

Unlike Dalko’s elaborate noble attire, his own clothes, befitting an Attendant, were much simpler—a formal outfit in a deep gray.

It featured a cleanly cut short jacket, devoid of complex embroidery, with only a thin, dark silver trim along the collar and cuffs.

Underneath was a cream-colored linen shirt, accompanied by a dark brown, wide leather belt.

The lower garment consisted of straight-legged trousers matching the jacket, paired with plain brown ankle boots.

Though the entire outfit was not ostentatious, the materials were high-quality, and the details exuded an understated refinement.

Without another word, Roland swiftly changed into the clothes, smoothed them out, and turned to face Dalko.

"How do I look? It’s decent, isn’t it?"

"Tsk..."

Dalko didn’t answer right away, instead circling around Roland.

His gaze swept over Roland’s imposing figure.

His broad shoulders gave the simple jacket a sharp, defined shape, and the wide belt further accentuated his lean, muscular waistline.

Sunlight slanted in from the window, gilding the sharp contours of Roland’s profile with a golden edge, making even the simple linen shirt seem to take on an air of luxury.

Dalko sighed and slumped languidly into a wooden chair.

"Seriously..."

He pouted, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the armrest.

"If anyone who didn’t know better saw us, they’d definitely mistake you for the young noble, and me for the tag-along Attendant."

He glanced down at his own carefully chosen velvet jacket and suddenly felt that the intricate silver embroidery looked utterly ridiculous.

He unconsciously tugged at his collar, his voice tinged with a sour note he couldn’t hide.

"That outfit looks more respectable on you than my whole getup does on me."

Roland shook his head with a helpless smile and lightly patted Dalko’s shoulder.

"Don’t joke like that."

With that, he naturally slung an arm around the young noble and guided him outside.

The streets were just as bustling as Dalko had said.

The two of them ambled along, enjoying the last of the morning before arriving at the Sea Pearl Hall.

A large crowd of lavishly dressed nobles had already gathered in front of the hall. They chatted in small groups of two and three, each noble accompanied by an Attendant, and many had even brought their families.

The noble young ladies, holding ceremonial fans, had been elegantly covering their lips and whispering, but when Roland’s figure passed through the mingling crowd, their fans suddenly froze in mid-air.

"Look over there..."

A young noble lady with a pearl hair ornament suddenly tapped her companion’s wrist with the spine of her fan, her slightly flushed cheeks visible behind it.

"Which family is that young lord from? I’ve never seen anyone so..."

She couldn’t finish her sentence, because another young noble lady beside her, dressed in a lake-blue gown, had already lost her composure and was gripping her fan’s handle tightly.

"Look at his profile..."

Her hushed voice carried an unconcealable thrill.

"The curve of that jawline is like it was carved by a master sculptor..."

More ceremonial fans subtly turned in Roland’s direction, and a rising and falling murmur of discussion came from behind them.

One bold young lady even deliberately let the tassel of her fan brush against Roland’s sleeve, only to hastily snatch it back the moment their eyes met, leaving a trail of silvery laughter trembling in the air.

Seeing this, Dalko gave Roland a mischievous raise of his eyebrows.

His expression clearly said: *See? Told you so.*

Roland shot back a warning glance, telling him not to cause any more trouble.

The wait wasn’t long. After a short while, the grand doors of the Sea Pearl Hall were pushed open from within.

Rows of neatly dressed attendants stood at the entrance, welcoming guests and checking invitations.

After smoothly entering the main doors, Roland couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the interior decor of the Sea Pearl Hall.

Crystal chandeliers refracted light like shattered gold, pillars inlaid with mother-of-pearl gleamed with a soft luster, and beneath a ceiling adorned with relief carvings, deep blue velvet curtains cascaded down in layers.

On the cream-colored marble floor, delicate wave-like patterns seemed to flow, complementing the coral artworks hanging on the walls. The entire space was filled with an understated and expensive oceanic atmosphere.

"Dalko, you’ve arrived..."

Baron Gavin’s deep voice interrupted Roland’s observations.

The old Lord of Chenxi Territory gave Roland a slight nod before speaking to Dalko.

"Come with me. I’ll introduce you to a few nobles."

"Of course, Uncle Gavin."

Dalko obediently agreed. He whispered a few words to Roland before leaving with Gavin.

Now alone, Roland ambled over to the buffet table and casually picked up some exquisite pastries, his eyes constantly following Morne’s figure.

The King was still dressed in that simple linen robe, showing none of the pomp expected of royalty.

He hadn’t given a formal opening speech, nor was he seated on a high dais. Instead, he was carrying a large flagon of ale and had sat down directly at the long dining table.

"...Back then, we were trapped in the valley by Beastmen for three whole days!"

Morne took a huge swig of ale, grabbed a handful of cured meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and continued indistinctly.

"In the end, we only managed to break out because of a sudden downpour..."

His coarse behavior made him seem less like a King and more like a drunken old Mercenary in a tavern.

But it was precisely this unpretentious heartiness that filled the entire banquet hall with a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere.

Nobles gathered around him in small groups, letting out hearty laughs from time to time.

Servers weaved through the crowd, refilling drinks and serving dishes, the light from the crystal chandeliers illuminating one joyful face after another.

Roland didn’t go over to join the crowd.

As his physical fitness improved, his appetite had also been growing daily.

Compared to listening to the King boast about his past, the exquisite food before him was clearly more appealing.

’This actually tastes pretty good...’

After politely declining invitations from a few young noble ladies, Roland picked up several fresh shrimp and popped them into his mouth, savoring the tender, springy texture of the meat.

Just then, a familiar, teasing voice came from behind him.

"Gods, Roland, how long have you been starving? Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were a refugee who just escaped from somewhere."

Without turning his head, Roland stuffed another slice of white bread into his mouth.

"Done with your socializing? How’d it go?"

"Awful..."

Dalko glumly downed a cup of wine. Recalling the distant, contemptuous gazes of the nobles just now, he was about to continue complaining when he was interrupted by an uproar.

"A banquet this lively can’t be without some martial exhibitions to spice things up!"

King Morne, who had been sitting at the table, was now standing right on top of it, his face flushed red and his body swaying slightly.

"Colin! Get these damned tables out of the way!"

After shouting the order, he looked around at the nobles and magnanimously declared,

"Have your Attendants spar a bit! The winner... will be handsomely rewarded!"