Chapter Fifty-One

Based on the identity provided by the scenario, Cheng Yuan recalled for a moment, feeling confused. He found himself with the memories of a college student playing a newly released, allegedly one hundred percent realistic virtual online game named “Artifacts and Martial Might.” The game was set in a world of martial heroes, with the motto: “He who wields the divine artifact rules the world.”

It was a nested trap! Cheng Yuan realized something was wrong. Not only had he been swept into this world, but he now found himself even deeper, inside what was clearly the domain of some catastrophic entity masquerading as a virtual game. Perhaps his every move was under their watchful gaze.

Well, there was nothing more to say—he might as well play along. Cheng Yuan began to test his surroundings by casting identification spells for ten minutes. Most of the attempts yielded nothing, as if cast into empty air. The only object that responded was the broadsword in his hand.

Race: Ring-hilt Broadsword (Unbound)
Level: 1
Attribute: Metal
Racial Trait: Shared
Talent: Compatibility
Skill: "Basic Swordsmanship"
Evolution Path: 1. Adult Stage - Black Tiger Broadsword 2. Adult Stage - Thunderbolt Broadsword ...

Cheng Yuan reached an interesting conclusion: aside from the sword in his hand, everything else was fake. He swung the broadsword, and information immediately flowed into his mind: “Basic Swordsmanship”—shared. So, this was how it worked.

He then picked up a rope from the ground and led a group of children slowly back toward the village. His memories had just returned: he had recently robbed a group of refugees, and these children were his spoils.

Meanwhile, in a certain beginner’s village, a young man gazed at the Azure Edge Sword in his hand, thinking to himself, “Given a second life, a true man should wield a three-foot blade to achieve immortal feats.” A young woman smiled at the Phoenix Pattern Scimitar in her grasp. A burly man raised his hammer to the sky. All these actions signaled the arrival of the players; the Fourth Calamity was on the move, but none of this concerned Cheng Yuan.

No sooner had Cheng Yuan returned to Black Tiger Stronghold than he was dragged off to watch the chieftain’s gathering. Strictly speaking, it was to listen to a two-meter-tall, fat, big-eared man making grandiose promises. As his companions listened with fervor, ready to give their lives for the cause, Cheng Yuan rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, the doors were kicked open. A group of oddly dressed people charged into Black Tiger Stronghold, killing everyone in sight. A sword aura swept toward Cheng Yuan. In the instant he sensed the attack, he lifted his blade and deflected it, remaining unharmed. All his companions around him were nearly cut in half, and even his broadsword bore a deep crack.

Li Tianxiang, wielding his beginner artifact—the three-foot Azure Edge Sword—was slaughtering his way through the stronghold when he noticed that, apart from the chieftain, another bandit had survived his attack. This surprised him, but he remained focused on the chieftain. The formerly genial, dark-skinned giant had transformed utterly.

Behind him, the aura of a massive black tiger loomed. The chieftain’s eyes burned red with rage, his broadsword emitting sinister black smoke, his expression twisted in fury and madness.

Other players were busy finishing off the wounded. Noticing Cheng Yuan still standing, someone asked, “Why is there still one left alive?” “Forget him for now. Let Brother Li finish the chieftain first, then we’ll deal with the other one. Kill the rest first.”

Cheng Yuan didn’t hesitate. It was clear this was no place to linger. He shouted, “If you can stand, follow me!” A few bandits, feigning death or only lightly injured, scrambled to their feet. Cheng Yuan glanced over them: all hurt, all armed—three archers, two spearmen. Out of a hundred-plus stronghold, only these five were able to leave. He shouted to the chieftain, “Big Brother, hold them off! We’ll avenge you!”

The chieftain, locked in battle, heard the cry and glanced across the chaos, nodding with a grief-stricken face. Had there been more than ten survivors, he would have furiously demanded they stay and fight. But with only six, five of them wounded, and the unfamiliar man before him already struggling to withstand the deluge of swordplay, vengeance was just a dream—he had no other choice.

Cheng Yuan led the five men in a desperate escape. No one pursued them, as the rest were busy finishing off the fallen. When they had finally left behind the sounds of swords and the roars of tigers, Cheng Yuan reached a grassy field. In the distance, a few herders could be seen tending sheep.

An hour later, Cheng Yuan was feasting on roast lamb while the nearby herders crouched on the ground, trembling in fear. “So, what are your plans now?” Cheng Yuan asked. The five men looked lost. After some thought, Cheng Yuan said, “Tomorrow, we’ll return to the stronghold. Those people only wanted to kill; they have no interest in the place itself.”

The five nodded. Cheng Yuan turned to the herder, “What skills do you have?” The herder dared not offend the “bandit.” “I can raise sheep, cattle, and horses.” Cheng Yuan stood up, smiling, “Then why don’t I see any horses?”

The herder replied nervously, “They’re at home.” Cheng Yuan’s smile widened, “Take us there.” Before the herder could protest, a blade was pressed to his throat. He stiffened, turning to see Cheng Yuan’s cheerful face.

That night, Cheng Yuan emerged from the tent, refreshed, and looked at the herd of horses without saddles or horseshoes. “Something seems missing from this world,” he mused, as a new idea began to take shape in his mind.

Soon, Cheng Yuan returned to Black Tiger Stronghold with six men and a herd of livestock. Corpses lay everywhere, but not a single weapon remained. “Let’s give them a proper burial—this will take some work.” After a full day, Cheng Yuan was established as the new chieftain. Black Tiger Stronghold was well equipped: wooden training dummies, granaries, a main hall, barracks, a forge, a well, a kitchen, and a warehouse.

As expected, the warehouse had been emptied, but no one had touched the other areas. After another day spent cleaning the barracks, they had gathered a large supply of cloth, plenty of food, a few weapons, and a pile of tools. The rescued children had vanished, likely freed.

The food would last a month. Upon learning this, Su Hu—one of the two spearmen Cheng Yuan had rescued—immediately declared, “Don’t stop me; I’m going to enjoy myself for a month.” The other four survivors were Su Bing, Liu Dahuo, Liu Xing, and Liu Yun.

Faced with Su Hu’s overly laid-back attitude, Cheng Yuan had no choice but to call a meeting with the newly acquired herder, Helan Jia. “We barely escaped death once; I have no problem with taking a break. But don’t forget, those people could return at any moment. Last time, over a hundred of us were killed, leaving only us alive. What if they come back? And after a month? What will we eat then? If we finish off Helan Jia’s livestock, how will we make a living?”

Su Bing agreed with Cheng Yuan’s reasoning. “What should we do, Chieftain?” Cheng Yuan grinned. “I have a bold idea. Would you all care to try it?”