My Players Are So Fierce

Brother Mao himself didn’t expect that he just wanted to challenge himself and earn some “startup funds” for his brothers, but in the end, the situation developed into such a heated event.

It was understandable for little players to come and watch the excitement.

After all, North Forest Dog’s Paddle had shouted on the forum, and now there were few players, and everyone’s relationships were quite good, so they could come to support or wait to see a joke.

However, he didn’t expect that these NPCs would also be mobilized to join.

But thinking about it, it wasn’t difficult to understand. It had been a month since the Kadman City disaster, and the survivors had already endured the most difficult period. Living under the basic order established by Murphy and the players, they also hoped for some entertainment.

A celebration could get dozens of people drunk on a few fruits, and now there was news that a brave warrior was challenging a monster. Of course, anyone who could come would come and watch, resulting in the area at the entrance of sewer No. 7 being tightly packed.

Although they didn’t share a common language, some things could be felt without the need for language!

Especially when they saw the 1.85-meter-tall, fully armed Brother Mao confronting the elite zombie leader, whose entire body was covered in rotten flesh and enveloped in a foul stench, the crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers.

“The outside world says our Transia produces barbarians who love to fight and view brawling as a daily pastime.”

“I’m starting to believe it now.”

“They’ve just been suppressed for too long, sir. This doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

Maxim hoped to defend his “compatriots,” but the increasingly frenzied cheers around him made his explanation seem so pale and powerless.

It wasn’t until then that the Count of White Mountain, who had remained silent, spoke up:

“Even the most peaceful person would become like a beast in the arena. It’s not just Transia, but also North Wind Citadel or Borisgrad, and even the frost dwarves in the Great Wilderness hold similar warrior fights every year before and after the Day of the Earth Mother.

There are similar places in the Thorn Kingdom, and I’ve been invited to participate in the revelries of the vampires once or twice.

But we wouldn’t be so cruel as to have a weak Professional face off against a zombie leader. At most, we would have errant Blood Servants fight each other, or release the grizzly bears that had just ended their hibernation and were extremely hungry on White Mountain.

Just from this point alone, it’s clear that Transia’s folk customs are extraordinarily fierce.

Speaking of which, are we really betting on whether this brave warrior can kill this foul-smelling monster unharmed, or are we betting on whether he can last five minutes?”

Andrei, the melancholic poet with a long hairstyle, was quite venomous in his speech, using the gentle yet reserved tone characteristic of the great nobility as he taunted:

“I know your warrior is exceptionally brave, but courage and rashness are not the same thing.”

“I heard you’re a poet popular among the young ladies and noble ladies in the Nordtov Kingdom?”

Instead of directly answering the Count of White Mountain’s taunt, Murphy said:

“Why don’t we make a bet, Lord Andrei? If my warrior succeeds in killing this disgusting monster unharmed, then you shall write a poem for Transia, and I’ve already thought of a name: ‘The Dawn Song of Transia’.”

“Of course, such a martial and frenzied feat deserves my pen, provided that he can truly survive.”

The Count of White Mountain agreed.

His presence here was essentially an exile, as his servant Vesta had informed him that the White Mountain faction he had painstakingly established over a year had been disbanded.

Soon, even his most loyal servants would be sent to Transia to accompany him.

This put the Count in a foul mood.

Although he knew this was not a simple exile, and was even a “clemency outside the law” from Grand Duchess Shani.

After all, with the Black Disaster, Transia would undoubtedly be the frontline for the continent’s inhabitants against the gnolls. If he and his faction wanted to prove their worth to the Clan and the nation, persevering here until the end would not be a mistake, and was certainly better than leading his people to play dead at the gnolls’ main base, Dark Mountain.

Murphy and Andrei’s gaze turned to the arena.

This sewer No. 7 was actually where Murphy had previously sculpted the Tomb Guard badge. The burning edge of the large space in front of them was where Maxim had previously set fire to the pile of corpses.

At this moment, the elite zombie leader lured here was driven into an exceptionally frenzied state by the surrounding blazing fires.

Its twisted, blood-red eyes were fixed on Brother Mao, who stood before it with a sword and shield in hand. It only wanted to tear him apart and use his blood and corpse to douse the flames so it could escape.

Therefore, as soon as Brother Mao entered this space, the zombie launched a frenzied and merciless attack.

Its death-mutated claws were what had originally been human fingers, now transformed into horrific black scythe-like talons. Its arms were thick and covered in ghastly white scales. The putrid miasma emanating from the rest of its body formed a substantial “biochemical attack,” with a single whiff capable of causing unconsciousness or mental disarray.

However, Brother Mao remained exceptionally calm.

He did not rush forward to attack. Instead, he adopted a rather intelligent strategy, much like the most accomplished Spanish bullfighters, holding his shield in his left hand and sword in his right, lowering his body and circling the zombie.

Each time the zombie launched a frenzied assault, Brother Mao would evade with an impressive sliding step at the last possible moment, while fiercely striking the monster with his sword!

To the onlookers, it appeared that the warrior was narrowly evading the zombie’s lethal claws with each successful dodge, just a slight misstep away from being torn apart. Every exhilarating successful evasion naturally elicited screams or cheers from the crowd.

At this moment, the little players watched as intently as if observing a master defeating a BOSS. However, the experienced could see that after Brother Mao’s three consecutive perfect dodges, Sister Pomegranate’s heart sank deeper.

She now felt that her decision to bet all her 150 gold coins might have been unwise.

“Where did this guy learn the Mejeva Secret Sword Arts? With that evasion speed, he must have mastered the Shadow Step to at least the Master level, but how long has he been in the game? Is this guy a genius?”

Beside her, Lumina watched with wide eyes.

Shamefully, although Lumina was the first player to learn the Mejeva Secret Sword Arts in the game, due to her two professions being ranged, her sword skills had only reached the Proficient level to this day.

Little Ashina’s mouth was agape.

She didn’t even eat her favorite candy, constantly exclaiming:

“This Master Mao is so formidable! His Shadow Step even has a hint of Master Murphy’s aura, but this method of counterattacking immediately after evading looks so familiar. I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before?”

“Maxim!”

Finally, the girl Orchid leaned on her shield and said in a low voice:

“Lord Maxim has this habit. I’ve seen it more than once on the battlefield. He, who values efficiency, loves to counterattack and kill immediately after evading. Brother Mao must have learned the secret sword arts from Maxim, and even picked up his sword habits. Incredible!

We’ve all been practicing blindly by repeatedly reading the manuals, but he can actually learn the sword arts directly from an NPC?”

“That’s right! Our Brother Mao’s three character traits are all related to swordsmanship!”

Not far from the girls, South Mountain Tiger’s Howl explained proudly:

“In the real world, he specialized in sword and shield, and the German longsword. After entering the game, he sparred with Maxim that very afternoon, and every day since, he’s either been killing zombies in the sewers or finding Maxim for sword practice.

He earned the bonus of the dark elf secret sword arts after enduring Maxim’s attacks for over five minutes three times in a row.

He’s a true sword genius!

Unfortunately, he was born in the wrong era and can only play at being a soldier with us. If it were a few hundred years ago, he would undoubtedly be an unmatched sword saint.”

“Yeah, you’re right!”

Beside him, West Valley Wolf’s Prowl slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder and laughed:

“Brother Mao said he wants to become a true sword saint in this game! It’s like fulfilling a childhood dream. Let me tell you a secret. The reason Brother Mao was certain he could defeat an elite unharmed is that he had already challenged one last night when he reached level 10.

Although he stumbled in the latter half and we had to rescue him, Brother Mao already knew how to deal with these guys.”

“Unfortunately, the zombie leader that Buddy lured here seems different from the other zombies.”

Folding her arms, Sister Pomegranate snorted and suddenly spoke up:

“You should know that zombies specialize based on their former professions and combat experience, right? What I mean is, your Brother Mao might be in trouble.”

“Ah?”

The soldier brothers immediately looked towards the “arena”. They saw that after seven or eight consecutive failed pounces and having its legs hacked off by Brother Mao’s enchanted spirit blade during three successive rolls and slashes, the elite zombie grew increasingly frenzied.

By the time Brother Mao realized something was amiss, it was too late!

The creature waved its claws, tearing its own flesh and dislocating the bone spikes from its back, actually hurling them like flying daggers.

Powered by its brute force, the bone spikes flew with tremendous force. Brother Mao blocked one with his shield, but the spike pierced through and nearly struck his eye, just a few inches away, leaving him drenched in cold sweat.

The enemy could attack from a distance?

Not good!

The “kite and whittle” tactic wouldn’t work anymore!

He made a split-second decision. As the zombie flung a second poisonous bone spike, he backhanded his buckler, striking the zombie in the eye, then rolled forward, drawing his second sword as he rose.

With dual swords in hand, Brother Mao’s offensive stance changed abruptly, transforming from cautious defense to a wild, unrestrained attack.

He had previously instructed East River Lion’s Roar on how to wield dual swords, and now that it was his turn, his aura was indeed different. His right hand wielded the spirit blade in a relentless slashing barrage, while his left hand held a longer blade for attacking, but more for defense, parrying the zombie’s claws twice before backhanding and severing its left claw entirely.

He then leapt up and thrust his longsword into the zombie’s neck. As it thrashed in frenzy, he retreated a few steps, gripped his spirit blade in both hands, and charged, using the momentum to impale the blade into the zombie’s bloodred eye.

A gurgling sound arose from within the zombie, like an ever-inflating balloon nearing its limit.

“Shit! It’s going to self-destruct! Brother Mao, get away!”

A cry of warning rang out from the stands, perfectly timed.

This guy could self-destruct?

Maxim, who had been smiling at the warrior he recognized as his would-be victor, immediately stood up to go and rescue him, but Murphy and the Count of White Mountain jointly restrained him on the shadowed stone steps.

This was Brother Mao’s solo challenge!

If Maxim intervened, the warrior’s efforts would be in vain.

Brother Mao clearly realized something was wrong, but his reaction was more direct. He pulled out his spirit blade and swung it with maximum force, decapitating the ugly head while grabbing a bloodstone ornament from his belt.

The next second, a thunderous boom erupted as a blackish-green miasma of decay exploded outward like a gas explosion, engulfing a third of the entire space.

The onlookers were startled.

Afterwards, many voices expressed disappointment.

This warrior was truly formidable! It was just a bit of bad luck.

“No! Brother Mao is fine!”

East River Lion’s Roar shouted, his broken bell-like voice truly living up to its lion’s roar name.

The people then looked up to see the unharmed Brother Mao emerge from a corner outside the explosion radius, clutching a dimmed bloodstone crystal.

His hands were trembling.

But his blade was still gripped in proper form, and he then raised his weapon high for all to see!

His endurance bar was depleted, but his health bar remained full! At the last moment, he had used the Midnight Assassin ornament that could create illusions and teleport, narrowly avoiding disaster before everyone’s eyes. Although he nearly failed spectacularly, he had truly achieved it.

Defeating an elite unharmed!

This near-impossible feat had become a reality before the players’ eyes.

“Damn! My challenges are like playing a Soul-like game where you have to git gud, but for this expert, defeating an elite is as easy as Mario eating a mushroom. Are we really playing the same game?”

From the crowd, Joy Stick let out a harsh criticism, but still cheered for his friend’s victory. Sister Pomegranate, however, looked at the man receiving the cheers below with a complex expression.

She felt she had encountered a formidable opponent.

But she had to admit that her previous views of Brother Mao had changed. This guy had real skills, she conceded defeat, but she wouldn’t give up!

“Wow, little Pomegranate, you lost our food money for this week!”

Little Ashina scolded in dissatisfaction, arms crossed:

“For the next seven days, we’ll have to eat bread, and we won’t even have money to buy fruit candies from Count Andrei. All because of your silly obsession with winning and losing!”

“Sis, sis, we’re rich!”

Just as Sister Pomegranate felt awkward, the Niuniu who had gone missing suddenly popped out, excitedly saying:

“I just bet 100 gold on Brother Mao winning! That’s at least a 600 gold profit! Those NPCs who came to watch nearly went bankrupt, but they’re also very happy. Whether they won or lost, everyone’s really happy.

Hey, why do you look so upset?

Did someone bully you?

I’ll avenge you!”

“You’ve acquired a formidable warrior whose potentials are limitless.”

After watching the entire event, Murphy stood up and said to the triumphant Maxim:

“Cultivate him well.”

“Yes, I will, sir.”

Murphy’s strange monster nodded, then looked at the Count of White Mountain beside him with a derisive expression.

But the Count paid no heed to Maxim’s taunts, staring absentmindedly at the warrior below who had performed the impossible before his eyes.

“Transia is truly a land of miracles.”

The melancholic poet mused:

“It seems I will need to spend some time contemplating this ‘Dawn Poem’.”

——

“Ha, a single battle wiped out a strike force from Circle Tower? Befitting of the barbarians of Transia!”

At this time, far away on the steam train bound for the Misty City of the Goldflower Kingdom, General Loren, seated in the first-class carriage, received the battle report from Lieutenant Frayzer. Upon seeing that Circle Tower’s Spirit Hunter squad had been completely annihilated, this half-dwarf nodded in satisfaction.

His overly cautious personality, inherited from his transcendent bloodline, felt slightly appeased.

But this was clearly just an appetizer.

Before the General was a briefcase containing two reports to be personally delivered to King Louis, one being the rather amusing 《The Carpe Travelogue – Journeying with Vampires》.

This report would be shared with the parliament members after the King had read it.

The other, a classified report on the spatial rifts and Circle Tower, was for the King’s eyes only.

“Circle Tower, an organization born and raised alongside the Silan Kingdom, praised as the ‘backbone of humanity’, have you too become corrupted?”

General Loren stood on his chair, gazing out at the azure Greenleaf Strait under the noonday sun. After the Silan Kingdom annexed the Isa Kingdom, this cross-sea bridge took seven years to be erected with the help of the silver dwarves’ earth priests.

It connected the isolated Greenleaf Island to the mainland territories, like a great artery leading to the heart of the Goldflower Kingdom.

The General puffed on his dwarven pipe, exhaling pungent smoke from his nostrils as he squinted at the seagulls soaring through the train’s trailing smoke.

He murmured:

“You’d better not have rotted, or I’ll have to get my hands dirty digging you out from the kingdom’s heart, though I wouldn’t be averse to that. Dare to exploit the dwarves? Heh, I hope you’re prepared for retaliation! We’re quite vindictive, you know.

And that Lord Murphy, is he the one who stole my cargo?

Hmm, it seems I’ll need to find an opportunity to teach that midnight brat a lesson.”