novellk Chapter 78 The Enchanted Forest Does Not Welcome Mortals
Chapter 78 The Enchanted Forest Does Not Welcome Mortals
In the real world, there's a chat group called "Did you go on an adventure today?"
The chat interface, which originally had only a few people chatting, suddenly exploded with information because of an administrator message that @everyone.
Roasted Whole Lamb Ah-Hmm: "Brothers, I've taken over the vast tracts of abandoned farmland in Archer Village! Now we desperately need security personnel to clear out the Ironclad Pigs. Looking for twenty strong men, food and lodging included, daily pay, 5 Maple Leaf Coins per day!"
Upon hearing this message, several new players in the second closed beta test who were temporarily offline due to exhaustion or other real-life matters were completely devastated.
Da Niu is rather lazy: "Damn! I just cut my foot while carrying bricks in Mingzhu Port. The pain simulation was too realistic, so I took off my VR glasses to have a smoke, and here you are showing off your wealth? I want to go grind monsters, not be a cyber mason."
Jinling Little Writer: "Exactly! Why should veteran players be farmers and get paid in Archer Village, while we have to deal with mud and dung in the port? Hunting in Archer Village not only fills you up but also pays you in cash. Isn't that better than hunting in the mud?"
He grabbed a bucket and ran away, yelling, "Hey, you guys, don't cause trouble! The sewage ditch at Pearl Harbor is only half-dug, and the blast furnace foundation isn't even solid yet. If you all log on and run away, who's going to carry out the GM's task quota?"
Jinling Little Writer: "Carry my ass! There's no way I'm going to work. Who wants to work with that lousy cement? Brothers, log in! Let's head to Archer Village!"
After the last message was sent, the group chat fell silent briefly. These working-class people, suffering so much in real life, couldn't wait to put their VR glasses back on.
A few minutes later at the Pearl Harbor construction site.
As the group of newbies who had just reconnected to the second test stiffened and stood up, they completely ignored the half-finished construction work at their feet.
A broken wooden shovel was thrown heavily into the mud bucket. The junior scribe, who had just instigated the trouble in the offline group, wiped the white dust off his face and shouted, "Brothers, grab your weapons, let's go to Archer Village and pull off a big heist!"
The long-suppressed player instincts finally erupted.
This group of newcomers to the second test abandoned their work, grabbed shovels used for shoveling sand, sharpened wooden sticks for self-defense, and some even carried half-full bags of quicklime. They formed a large group and headed towards Archer Village.
Behind them, the worker hurriedly followed the person who had been online, carrying a bucket and running away. Seeing the construction site disappear in the blink of an eye, he was so angry that he stood on the pile of stones and cursed.
But he was ultimately a civil engineer with a strong sense of the big picture. The high-precision industrial core components in the ruined capital directly determined the future industrial development prospects of Pearl Harbor and the favorability of the Warrior Tribe faction. If the Archer Village's food production couldn't keep up, and they couldn't produce those two tons of food, the entire faction's technology tree would be stuck.
There are enough people to hunt at the front, but once the food is in hand, how will we bring back several tons of supplies?
Just as Lynn was running away with his bucket, worrying about the empty construction site, on the second-floor terrace of the former Bolton mansion, he was quietly looking down at the chaotic Fourth Calamity below.
Lynn couldn't help but laugh as he watched the group of refugees carrying shovels and running across the city for a few Maple Leaf Coins.
Since these pieces have already set up the game on their own initiative, as the player holding the pieces, he naturally doesn't mind giving them a push.
He activated the system in his mind and sent a new task to the remaining players in the port.
In the camp, the one who ran off with the bucket and the few other newcomers who were hesitating whether to join in the fun all felt a tremor coming from the emblem on their left arm.
The task is simple and clear:
[Limited-Time Mission: Archer Village Food Supply Battle]
The frontline hunting force has been deployed. We are urgently conscripting personnel remaining on the front lines to form a logistics unit. Newly manufactured two-wheeled wooden carts from the workshop will be used to transport supplies to the outskirts of Archer Village, assisting the advance team in escorting supplies.
With the official dispatch issued by the GM himself as a guarantee, the players who stayed behind were completely at ease. This also means that running trade routes and transporting goods will also be counted in the faction's contribution, and there will definitely be rewards afterward.
The group quickly worked together to push the newly built flatbed carts out of the workshop, and together with a dozen or so hired indigenous laborers, they followed at a distance behind the security team in front.
A rudimentary, unequipped cross-city logistics convoy, lacking even proper protective gear, carved the first rut on the main road.
Further east than Archer Village lies the mage's main city-state, Magic Forest, where the noise of the group chat cannot reach this ancient and tranquil forest.
In the house of Hans, the instructor for the mage's job advancement, the air at the bottom of the huge treehouse, carved from a centuries-old towering tree, was filled with a faint herbal fragrance, as well as a tangible sense of oppression and stagnation resulting from the mage's years of meditation.
The old magician Hans sat behind a large wooden table covered in moss, his hood pulled low, absentmindedly counting the green slime that Xiaoyu had brought.
A moment later, he reached into his wide robe and pulled out a rough-surfaced, fist-sized sensing crystal, which he then gently placed on the table.
"Place your hands on it, concentrate your mind, and try to sense the magical elements floating around you," Hans gave the trial question.
Xiaoyu glanced somewhat awkwardly at the large iron pot stew beside her, then took a deep breath and placed her palm on the angular surface of the sensing crystal.
Just two seconds later, a visible ripple suddenly spread out from inside the sensing crystal.
A pure, cold blue light suddenly burst forth from the heart of the stone.
The cold light was exceptionally dazzling, instantly illuminating the dim treehouse. Even the herbal dew remaining on the wooden table began to condense into a fine layer of white frost crystals under this strong elemental resonance.
George, panting beside him, was excitedly running around, as if it knew its little master had succeeded.
Hans jumped to his feet, his withered fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly that he could barely breathe.
Over the decades, he had seen countless outsiders come to study, but he had never seen a genius who could trigger such a strong resonance of ice elements simply through instinct in an uncivilized state.
"Good child... truly a pure bloodline blessed by the gods."
The old monk's originally aloof expression softened instantly, and his gaze toward Xiaoyu became as gentle as if he were examining a rare treasure.
Then he turned his head and looked at the big iron pot stew standing to the side, his eyes regaining their scrutinizing expression.
"Your turn, stranger."
This survival YouTuber, who is fearless in extreme outdoor environments, couldn't help but rub his hands together.
He stepped forward, slammed his hand firmly onto the crystal, closed his eyes, and desperately tried to recall those mysterious lines in his mind.
"May ice and lightning protect me, may fire and poison protect me, may the priest protect me... so that I can successfully advance to the next level..."
Five seconds passed.
Half a minute passed.
The quiet inside the treehouse was somewhat awkward.
The sensing crystal that had been shining brightly just moments before was now like a stepping stone picked up casually by the roadside. No matter how anxious the goose was, sweating profusely, it didn't even bother to emit a trace of magical light inside, and its temperature didn't change at all.
The expectation in Hans's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by disdain.
The old monk unceremoniously pulled the sensing crystal from under the goose's palm, then pointed his withered fingers straight at the tightly closed wooden door.
"You don't even have a single seed of magic within you; you're like a piece of dead wood soaked in sewage."
Hans’s tone regained the arrogance and decisiveness unique to his mentor, as if he were pronouncing a death sentence for him.
"Let's go. Without magical resonance, forcibly touching the alchemy table will only blow you and this room to smithereens. The Magic Forest does not welcome mortals without talent."