015 Warm Currents, Hidden Undercurrents

[Stab: A forward thrust causing localized piercing damage]
[Power: 90%]
[Skill Requirement: Melee Weapon]

Re-examining his status, Duan Qing indeed discovered a new frontier within his skill menu.

This was a skill he had comprehended when he blinded the wild boar with a single thrust. Yet, as usual, the terse description did little more than prove that Duan Qing had indeed learned the skill, while raising far more questions than it answered.

Why was its power lower than that of a slash? Was it simply because the area of effect was smaller? Or was it due to insufficient force? Moreover, there were countless melee weapons—what if he wielded a great hammer or a shield? How would the skill perform then?

And during that previous battle, he recalled using consecutive thrusts; why hadn’t the system prompted any realization then?

Most baffling of all was...

“My attributes don’t seem to have changed either. Give me a reason to comprehend this, will you, dear system...”

After much pondering and frustration, scratching his head until night fell, Duan Qing—hungry both in the game and in reality—finally gave up on the nearly hopeless task of dissecting the game’s mechanics. Leaving the medical clinic, he grabbed a quick bite and wandered through a few places. His usually low reputation score was unlikely to spike now, although he still wasn’t sure whether reputation could influence quest outcomes.

Standing at a crossroads, he looked down a nearly deserted alley in the late night, reflecting on the day’s events. For some reason, a wave of melancholy suddenly washed over his heart.

“What kind of day was this... Oh well, I’m starving. Better log off and rest for a while...”

Meanwhile, Meng Wanzhu, who had been lying idle in her hospital bed, had also logged off.

The game pod was set in a small, tidy room. The bedspread was clean, the desk neat and simple. In the late night, under the black sky, the ivory glow of a small lamp illuminated the curtain hanging by the window, drawing attention.

The room carried a delicate feminine fragrance, yet there were almost no distinctly girlish belongings in sight.

“It’s already so late...” whispered the girl named Meng Wanzhu. She shook her head to clear her mind and let her black braid fall loose.

Gathering her strength, she suddenly sprang up, only to stumble and fall with a soft “ouch.”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch...” She struggled on the crimson carpet, rubbing her head as she searched for what had tripped her. She finally realized her new oversized pajamas had caught on the edge of the game pod.

“Falling in the game, falling outside too...” she muttered.

After some effort, she freed the snagged garment and stared mournfully at the fraying pant leg. “I just got these a few days ago...”

She stood, checked the time, and then happily hopped into the kitchen to start cooking.

“Today’s main dish is... braised pork! Yes, it’s you,” she said, glaring at the pork on the cutting board before furiously chopping it as if striking a mortal enemy.

The sounds of chopping, slicing, and frying soon blended into the prelude of the approaching dawn. As she cooked, she chatted to herself, picking out other ingredients. “Hmm, should I add an egg? Even though eggs are expensive...”

“Uh, no green peppers—he doesn’t like those...”

“Braised pork, braised pork... lalala, I’m going to eat you...”

Occasionally recalling the day’s in-game incidents, the girl laughed cheerfully while looking at the pork. Then, she grimaced and rubbed her right arm, as if still feeling the sting of an injury. Thankfully, she hadn’t died in the end—that feeling was something she never wanted to experience again.

She also remembered the grumpy old man who had thrown her to the ground several times...

Though he saved her once, she hoped never to see him again!

Lost in thought, she finished several fresh side dishes, clapped her hands joyfully, took a food container from the cabinet, carefully packed the dishes inside, tidied herself up a bit, and stepped out.

She was heading to the city’s welfare center, where her fostered younger brother lived. Though his living conditions were adequate, she made time each week to visit him.

Since their parents had passed away, Meng Wanzhu knew all too well how difficult it was to support herself and her brother alone. Fortunately, social welfare in this era was excellent, and the welfare center offered far better living and educational conditions than she could provide. So when she learned of this option, she felt relieved to send her brother there.

***

Though her brother agreed, she still felt guilty and tried to make up for her past helplessness in any way she could. She often brought home-cooked meals to share with her six-year-old simple-minded brother, chatting about her daily observations and idle stories, so he could enjoy the warmth of family he deserved.

The morning bus was not crowded. The girl wasn’t in a rush but preferred the leisurely atmosphere. With her ponytail swaying, she hummed softly to an unknown tune while eagerly watching the passing scenery around the hovering public transit.

It had been over half a year since the tragedy. To place her brother in the city welfare center, the siblings had recently moved here and were still curious about the neighborhood. If she had lived here for ten years, the sights along this road would no doubt be all too familiar, and her curiosity might have faded.

But one thing she could never tire of was the people.

Passengers on the bus—those seated in front, behind, beside her—men and women, young and old. The man in the front seat she often saw was probably rushing to work again; the woman next to her, carrying baskets of vegetables, likely just returned from the morning market, happily heading home with fresh produce; a young man dozing at the back was unfamiliar—had he been out all night playing, now catching up on sleep? Or was he a night shift worker?

The driverless bus turned a corner, and the girl spotted a breakfast shop just opening. The older woman selling steamed buns there made delicious treats, and she had frequented the place not long ago. Now she realized it had been a while since her last visit. She had once vowed to become a regular at that bun shop—how amusing, she thought.

That early, a customer had already arrived—someone she hadn’t seen before.

The bus continued on. The stranger jogged around a corner, dressed in sportswear as if out for a morning run, and stopped at the woman’s shop, apparently greeting her.

He scratched his head and laughed, apparently wanting to buy breakfast. The woman smiled and invited him inside, though the door was not fully open yet.

The bus turned again, and the scene disappeared from the girl’s view. She sat up straight, feeling a faint warmth in her heart.

“A truly warm day,” she thought.

***

Once again savoring freshly steamed buns on an empty stomach, such bliss was indescribable. Returning, Duan Qing devoured his breakfast and then continued browsing online aimlessly.

Now in a different role, he was freed from many worries. Yet out of love and respect for the game, he still kept up with the latest news and discussions.

During breaks, Duan Qing often scrolled through various forums about the Free World. The alliance’s forum was naturally the most authoritative, but other platforms also hosted countless folk experts sharing valuable insights, though their truthfulness was for him to judge.

Duan Qing had experience distinguishing fact from fiction, but much of it was useless for a game as peculiar as Free World. The system offered no clear prompts, skill comprehension was mysterious, and the unusual worldview he had witnessed in the newbie village left him perplexed.

So aside from following high-level players’ progress, he mostly studied information about his current newbie village—Greenstone Village.

This time, on the alliance forum, he finally found some insider news.

“Mysterious activities emerge among multiple major guilds.”

At first, Duan Qing suspected it was clickbait, but after reading further, his doubts grew.

“Recently, several top guilds led by the alliance’s No. 1 guild Jianghu and No. 2 guild Wings of Freedom have been mobilizing. According to insiders, these movements relate to a recently surfaced rumor in Free World.”

“The rumor suggests the discovery of an area possibly containing ruins of the Ancient Magic Empire, housing the pinnacle of related magical technology.”

“Sources say if true, this discovery could unveil many hidden secrets about the Ancient Magic Empire and may connect with the historical background of the Free Continent.”

Such is the great power of lore enthusiasts... Duan Qing sighed inwardly.

Every hardcore gamer community thrives on this passion. They explore new game regions, study cutting-edge gameplay, discuss any valuable content, gossip about every detail, and scrutinize every story, history, worldview, and culture within the game. Perhaps these have no practical use and will be phased out over time or updates, but mastering and boasting about them remains their relentless pursuit.

Normally, this wouldn’t concern Duan Qing, as he was no longer that type. Yet fate did not spare him—the latter part of the news mercilessly linked cold reality to his gaming life.

“Currently, elite members of major guilds have set out southward to secretly explore a place called the Emerald Forest. It is said to be the birthplace of a recent batch of new players. Many guild vanguard forces have entered the area, and new discoveries are expected soon...”

Emerald Forest? Newbie village?

Now this sounded interesting...

Imagining a horde of powerful players descending on his village to wreak havoc—it was almost too perfect.

Duan Qing shook his head helplessly, stopping before reading further comments. He cursed the rumor monger. Ancient Magic Empire ruins? That eerie forest rumored to be full of strange beasts hardly seemed like a place shaped by civilization. Why did they have to gather here? Planning another grand martial arts contest, ranking first, second, and third before raiding some legendary manual?

How were small players like him supposed to survive...

He continued scrolling through other forum posts.

Hmm, Lanshan’s “Ten Directions Annihilation” claimed to have reached level 40 but found no new skills. The guy was trying hard... The Furei Empire’s military department suddenly had a player member, possibly from Wings of Freedom. Wings of Freedom seemed powerful, though he didn’t know anyone from that guild... Oh, the old ramen guy leaked some info? A new secret weapon? Haha, he still refuses to age gracefully...

Then his pupils suddenly contracted.

“Blade That Severed Heaven Returns to Jianghu!”

This post was pure gossip, filled with flamboyant language and a flair for drama. The essence, however, was simple: The “Blade That Severed Heaven” was back online.

The author offered no direct evidence, and many commenters openly expressed skepticism. A few pages later, someone provocatively claimed, “XXX, why don’t you believe? I’m the Blade That Severed Heaven’s hardcore fan.” Duan Qing checked—no such user had commented.

Yet some believed, some discussed, and countless eyes were drawn.

After silently reading the entire thread and all comments, Duan Qing even searched for possible related IDs beneath the post but found nothing. He closed it.

Sigh...

He double-checked his online status: invisible. He hadn’t changed it, so either alliance insiders were watching him or someone from the game company was meddling... No, they had no reason or courage to do such a thing—if exposed...

But... could that later-delivered game pod really be compromised? Had that girl tricked him?

Gritting his teeth, Duan Qing was about to check his game pod but then sat back down.

Well, even if they recognized me, what could they do?

Years had passed; what was to be settled should be settled. Those who hadn’t given up probably had by now...

Staring at the dark top of the pod, he sat motionless. The debts and grudges, after he had clearly abandoned everything, should have blown away with the wind. Even if recovered, they would be meaningless. Though this went against his original vows, he no longer cared for the world’s conflicts and expected no big trouble. Yet now, these resurfacing matters and deliberate provocations...

Tch, you really miss me, huh...

Duan Qing shook his head and pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket.

“Tch...”

With a snap, the empty pack hit the floor. He threw it away as if casting out all his grievances along with it.

Whatever. Worrying about impossible matters was less meaningful than figuring out how to survive.

His mood lightened somewhat.

Though he still had savings, he had experienced the despair of dwindling funds before. That outcome... he didn’t want a repeat.

Filling one’s stomach was more important than anything else. If he could make a little money in the game, so much the better. This shouldn’t count as... betrayal, right?

Whatever, better than starving to death.

For now, all he wanted was to enjoy the game. Before logging in again, Duan Qing confirmed his mood once more, thinking those needless worries were just scaring him. He wasn’t a demon lord—what could they do to him?

Of course, if trouble really came knocking...

The game pod hummed to life, its lights dimming accordingly, revealing Duan Qing’s cold, mocking smile.