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Chapter 4: A World Where Human Lives Are Worth Less Than Chickens
I had always known there were many people in this world, but I never imagined there could be so many!
Before leaving the city, I prepared myself for a fierce battle. The skirmish with the hens made one thing clear: our combat abilities could hardly be called "strong." Thinking about facing a pack of savage and irritable dogs, far more ferocious than hens, left me feeling uneasy.
However, when I stood at the city gate and looked out, I realized my worries were entirely unnecessary.
At some point, the area outside the city had been overrun by all sorts of Planewalkers on their adventures. They hailed from different races, bore different visages, wielded different weapons, yet were largely doing the same things.
"Gok gok gok..." A few spirited clucks echoed from near the foot of the wall ahead, startling me so much that my hands trembled, nearly sending me into convulsions. Embarrassingly, but undeniably, the harrowing experience of being attacked by those frenzied hens left me with significant psychological trauma. Now, even seeing cooked chicken lying peacefully triggers terrifying visions of countless angry claws flailing before my eyes.
This time, however, the fearsome aggressors became the victims. Instead of some unlucky soul like us, it was a group of fearless hens under attack. A stout dwarf warrior wielding a massive hammer charged into the flock of terrifying poultry, screaming wildly. His diminutive figure was instantly engulfed by a flurry of feathers and squawking hens. For a long while, we couldn't see him; only the periodic rise and fall of a colossal warhammer amidst the carnage, followed by bursts of blood, marked his presence.
If he were alone, I'd bet this brave dwarf wouldn’t last ten rounds before retreating. Though valiant, he still paled compared to the frenzied fowls. But behind him, an even smaller gnome mage provided robust support. Dressed in what, for him, constituted a "long" robe—my sleeve alone was longer than his entire garment—he held a staff roughly the length of a fire poker. With a solemn expression and murmured incantations, he unleashed a torrent of blazing fire that reduced a hen facing away from him to a charred husk.
Just as I marveled at their formidable combat skills, the air around us suddenly rippled. Then, a shadowy figure emerged from the void. With her left hand gripping a hen's neck and her right hand’s dagger flashing across, a jet of blood spurted from the chicken’s throat, its soul transforming into a white light absorbed by the assailant.
The perpetrator was a female elf, her blade and cunning combat skills revealing her profession: a Rogue, a traveler of darkness, a ruthless pursuer of wealth and freedom.
"Hey, stop causing trouble; this is our XP farming point," the dwarf warrior shouted rudely after dispatching the hens. The gnome mage, wary, stood closely behind his comrade, eyeing the rogue suspiciously.
Facing hostile expulsion, the elven female rogue arrogantly glanced at them, flicking her long, lilac hair with slender fingers. In the noble and elegant tone characteristic of elves, she retorted:
"Bullshit! What do you mean 'your' point? On what fucking grounds do you claim it? Did you ask those chickens if they fucking agreed? This spot is mine now; get lost!"
This was my first encounter with the so-called "elegance of elves," starkly contrasting the legendary grace of their race, leaving a profound impression. The sight of this tall, graceful female elf spoke in a rough, raspy voice cruelly shattered my fragile worldview. It felt as if my eyeballs had cracked; the world, which had just become clear, suddenly fragmented into incomprehensible pieces.
Without another word, the disputing parties drew their weapons. The dwarf warrior brandished his hammer, charging bravely towards the elven rogue. Behind him, the gnome mage began chanting mysterious spells, a chilling azure glow appearing in his hands. Facing two adversaries, the situation seemed dire for the elven rogue.
But just as the dwarf warrior closed in, the elven rogue suddenly waved her hand, releasing a dazzling cloud of magical powder.
The flash came so unexpectedly that neither her opponents nor Millionfold and I, as bystanders, were prepared, and we were caught off guard. As we closed our eyes against the blinding light, we heard the dwarf warrior’s agonized scream.
When we opened our eyes again, the dwarf warrior lay dead, a ghastly slash across his throat still spurting thick blood. Seeing the situation turn sour, the gnome mage fled in panic, shouting: "Shameless noob… still farming chickens at level five… If you’ve got guts, go farm the White Dragon Cave… Don’t run, wait for my main account to come back and delete your ball-less character from this game…" Despite his short legs, the gnome managed to escape, the elven rogue unable to catch up despite chasing him for a while.
"It seems…" Millionfold cautiously suggested after witnessing such a murder, “…this place is too dangerous. Brother, let’s find somewhere else.”
"What are they… doing?" The conflict that led to death seemed senseless, leaving me baffled. However, Millionfold, being a natural-born Planewalker who had completed such distant journeys, seemed capable of answering my questions.
"They are… fighting over chickens…" Millionfold replied.
"Fighting over chickens?" I exclaimed incredulously, "She killed someone over these hens?"
"Shh, keep it down…" By then, the elven rogue had returned to the hen-infested area, her pursuit unsuccessful. Watching her gleaming dagger, Millionfold displayed cowardice unbefitting his stature and name, pulling me away cautiously.
We walked until we were certain the female elf couldn’t overhear our conversation. Only then did Millionfold whisper carefully:
"Don’t provoke that person. We can’t beat that rogue. Since she claimed this spawn point, let’s try our luck elsewhere."
Millionfold’s attitude puzzled me further. I found it astonishing why this beautiful elf with a manly, rugged voice was so obsessed with leveling up, even resorting to ruthlessly killing others. While I understood everyone desires to become stronger, was level progression everything? Look at those Native merchants who have always remained at levels one or two since I could remember—they live peaceful and content lives.
Yet, I could confirm this was indeed a perilous world. Here, even chickens could easily kill you; worse, some would not hesitate to take your life for a few hens.
"Too much…" Millionfold hugged his arms, shrinking back with a glance at the elven woman, sighing. He shook his large bull head, his timid expression distorting his otherwise imposing face, making him look comical: “…Human lives are worth less than a chicken…”
This sentiment resonated deeply with me.
Such scenes weren’t isolated. Further away, Planewalkers passionate about adventure and battle hunted their prey with extreme zeal. Whether fragile chickens, ducks, rabbits, bats, or stronger lynxes, venomous snakes, and wild dogs, none escaped the fate of being surrounded and annihilated. Almost as soon as they appeared, they were targeted by hunters outnumbering them, then subjected to various torturous methods—burning, freezing, hacking, cleaving, smashing, shooting—until death. Even their demise brought no peace, often accompanied by complaints like "Let me get a hit in," or "Damn, missed again."
During my tenure as a city gate guard, no matter how many quests I issued to hunt wild dogs, they were always completed. I assumed a vast pack of wild dogs lurked outside the city gates, once fearing they might breach the gates and wreak havoc. Yet, seeing the current scene, I realized my concerns were unwarranted. Here, humans, elves, dwarves, and other “intelligent races” exhibited a slaughter frenzy that would make the fiercest beasts blush. Comparatively, why hadn’t the wild dogs been exterminated remains puzzling.
We slowly ventured deeper into the woods, where animals gradually shifted from three or four-level lynxes and wild dogs to six or seven-level "Furious Wild Dogs," "Toxic Black Snakes," and even stronger beasts. Consequently, the number of hunting Planewalkers dwindled.
We cautiously avoided predators too formidable for us. Meanwhile, Millionfold reaped substantial gains. With his "Apothecary" profession, he collected numerous herbs growing wild in the forest and crafted potions restoring minimal vitality during rest breaks. To my envy, even gathering and potion-making increased his soul power. Upon crafting his twenty-fifth small health potion, a bright green light enveloped him, and he leveled up.
This deepened my realization of the necessity of learning a life skill.
While struggling to find suitable prey, a robust wild dog suddenly entered our sights. This brown beast, slightly bulkier than ordinary wild dogs, had patchy fur and unsightly bald spots, looking rather lethargic. Unlike intimidating names like "Furious," "Angry," or "Hungry," this wild dog’s name was metaphysical, neither majestic nor distinctive—it was simply "Big Wild Dog" due to its larger size.
This level-five beast was beyond any of us to handle alone, but together we had a good chance. Fearing to alert nearby beasts, Millionfold and I stealthily tailed it until reaching a relatively open clearing.
"It’s this one," I drew my sword, eyes locked on the wild dog, addressing Millionfold.
"Isn’t its level too high? Shouldn’t we… find something easier?" Millionfold hesitated, showing no trace of courage on his seemingly fierce face.
"Or maybe we should check the city gates again, perhaps find two lone… hens?" he stuttered suggestively.
"Don’t mention ‘hens’ to me!" His suggestion reminded me of swirling chicken feathers. Suppressing goosebumps, I adopted my most serious expression, firmly rejecting his proposal.
"Or any other creature, like a rooster? A chick? A young rooster?" he prattled on endlessly.
"Can't you think of anything other than chickens?"
"But there are no low-level beasts near the gates other than chickens…" he argued defensively, “…I just wanted a safer method.”
I shot him a disdainful glance. He reddened, shrugging awkwardly:
"Alright, pretend I said nothing, follow your lead! But don’t blame me… My instincts tell me this is dangerous."
After hastily devising a tactic, I drew my sword and charged forward with a shout. My appearance immediately drew the big wild dog’s attention. It crouched low, baring sharp teeth, eyes unblinking on me, growling deeply. When I was within five steps, it leapt straight at my face.
The wild dog’s explosive power caught me off guard. In haste, I leaned left to dodge its claws while slashing my sword backward at its spine.
Upon sidestepping, my right shoulder went cold, then surged with heat, fiery pain traveling to my right hand. I knew I was badly injured, losing almost a quarter of my vitality. Meanwhile, a tiny blood flower bloomed above my opponent’s head, displaying "-9."
Without delay, I gulped down a prepared health potion, bracing for the next attack.
This beast was faster than I imagined. Just as I readied my defense, its white fangs lunged at me. I crossed my sword to block, pushing it aside forcefully. Unexpectedly, this triggered my "Block" skill, consuming ten stamina points and reducing the wild dog’s vitality by fifteen. However, my chest didn’t evade its claw swipe, sustaining another injury.
As the beast prepared its third assault, a massive weapon struck it mid-air. It yelped, rolling aside, only to realize a towering figure had appeared behind it.
That figure, of course, wasn’t anyone else but my sole comrade, the tauren warrior Millionfold.
Despite successfully wounding our foe, my comrade clearly wasn’t ready for battle—his face turned pale, visibly tense, eyes twitching involuntarily, legs trembling slightly.
Before he regained his composure, the ambushed wild dog lunged at him again. He screamed, hiding his bulky frame behind a tree trunk, inadvertently exposing his bull tail. The big wild dog seized this perfect target, biting fiercely, tearing and chewing.
"Ahhh…" I couldn’t believe such a sharp, piercing sound emanated from such a burly body. His anguished tenor sent chills down my spine, akin to a decapitated rooster or a castrated boar.
He shrieked, dancing wildly in circles, tears streaming unrelated to emotion, fully expressing his unbearable agony. His movements were wild and twisted, exuding a raw, primal passion. If not for the pain-induced foam at the corners of his mouth, I’d have thought he was performing a tauren cultural totem dance.
As he turned, I timely kicked the relentless wild dog aside, freeing my tauren friend from immense suffering. He immediately crouched, warrior dignity forgotten, frantically rubbing his tail while lamenting tearfully:
“…Now I know what ‘tail too big to wag’ feels like!”
"What are you doing? Why retreat?" I met the wild dog’s renewed charge, half-amused and half-exasperated, shouting at Millionfold.
"It’s my first time fighting such a high-level beast…" Although standing, Millionfold’s grievously wounded tail still affected him. He limped over, justifying: “…And it’s so ferocious. Isn’t being nervous normal? Do you think it’s like controlling with a mouse? Click twice and it’s done?”
After these cryptic words, he glanced at his injured tail, muttering: "Besides, I’ve never had this thing before, who knew it would stick out!"
With that, Millionfold rejoined the fray.
Never had one before? What does that mean? I glanced again at his limb I lacked—wasn’t it a natural organ for tauren? Puzzled, I had no time to ponder further as the big wild dog launched its next attack.
So far, everything proceeded as I envisioned. With armor, my defense exceeded Millionfold’s, so I attracted the wild dog’s attention, enduring its initial fierce assault; my higher-leveled, stronger-attacking tauren warrior companion struck from behind, inflicting heavy damage. This strategy also prevented the wild dog from dodging, significantly improving Millionfold’s otherwise pitiful accuracy.
At this moment, the health potion I drank earlier took effect. I felt my vitality gradually restoring, wounds healing quickly, pain greatly subsiding.
The big wild dog, having lost half its vitality, growled uneasily, now trapped between Millionfold and me. Each time it attacked, the targeted individual defended fully while the other struck from behind. When it changed targets, the former switched to offense, continuously weakening it. Soon, the life bar above the big wild dog thinned to a mere sliver.
Just as we were about to claim our first prey, an unexpected twist occurred.
Initially worried about disturbing nearby beasts, we chose a relatively open woodland clearing as our battlefield. Even the closest beasts were over thirty steps away, so we weren’t concerned about attracting others.
But all of sudden, we found ourselves surrounded by three level-six "Angry Lynxes." They appeared without warning, encircling us instantly. In a fleeting glance, they seemed to materialize out of nowhere, unsettling me—could there be Planewalkers among unintelligent wild beasts capable of breaking free from temporal constraints?
These lynxes probably just completed a journey through time and space, still adapting to our world. Their forms weren’t fully solid, bodies faintly transparent, delaying their attack. This gave us a chance to escape.
"Run!" I kicked the big wild dog aside, pulling Millionfold to flee. My tauren friend recognized the peril, casting a regretful glance at the dying dog, following closely. While fleeing, I remembered to gulp down a health potion, replenishing my depleted vitality.
Soon, the disturbed "Angry Lynxes" and the big wild dog pursued us. I didn’t know why those lynxes were so "angry," but clearly, they intended to vent their fury on us. They chased so closely that I could feel their murderous breaths on my back.
Not twenty steps out, I heard Millionfold cry out in pain. Concerned for his safety, I glanced back, slowing slightly, and felt a sharp pain on my back, followed by the sound of claws tearing flesh. Rolling, I swept my sword horizontally, but the lynx’s agility surprised me—it leapt high, narrowly evading my counterattack.
At this moment, I saw Millionfold in grave danger.
Probably due to his large size, he attracted the attention of two lynxes and a wild dog, now surrounded by three beasts. I watched his life bar rapidly deplete, nearly halving in an instant. Had it not been for the tauren’s robust physique compared to other intelligent races, his situation would be even more perilous. Even so, he couldn’t hold out much longer.
In a critical moment, the tauren used his life-saving move. Stomping fiercely, he created a powerful shockwave, disorienting the lynxes and wild dog, seizing the chance to break free and stumble towards me. While fleeing, he smoothly reached into his backpack, grabbing four health potions with five fingers, gulping them down noisily, then grimaced with a loud belch, exhaling a yellow mist.
"Ugh, disgusting, this stuff tastes like swill! Couldn’t those idiot programmers make it taste like Pepsi?" As he complained loudly, his life bar restored at an astonishing speed.
It wasn’t long before the beasts shredded my armor into a vest and tore Millionfold’s rear to shreds. Despite preparing ample health potions, relying solely on them wasn’t sustainable—especially since their taste was truly repulsive. I feared that even if the beasts didn’t kill me, these potions might.
Just as we were cornered, a sharp gust of cold wind whistled past my cheek, halted by a tree trunk behind me, leaving a metallic tang at my nose. It was an ordinary arrow, its head deeply embedded in the trunk, its tail still quivering, emitting a heart-stopping resonance.
Following the arrow’s trajectory, I saw a tall figure. Holding a longbow in his left hand, lightly gripping a branch with his right, and resting his right foot on a stone, he exuded an elegant and calm demeanor. Sunlight streamed from behind him, casting a long shadow on the ground. A gentle breeze stirred his long hair, revealing pointed ears unique to elves.
"Hey…" The elven man standing alone in the sunset addressed us with a slightly hoarse but magnetic voice, “…Do you need help?”
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