Chapter 8: A New World

[Welcome to the game!]

[You have received a main quest: Survival]

[Quest Description: As someone entering this world for the first time, what you need is not great strength, nor is it to join any faction, but rather to find a way to stay alive and leave your own mark in this world.]

[Note: Do not underestimate this mark—it signifies your arrival, and, more importantly, your existence. The next time you enter the same world within the same time period, you will not be transported to a different world.]

[Quest Requirement: Survive for more than ten days in this world.]

[Side Quests: Not activated]

[Faction Quests: Not activated]

[Hint: You can achieve the following milestones in this world (including this world and its extensions):]

[Bloodthirsty Warrior: Personally slay one hundred enemies on the battlefield.]

[Demon Hunter: Kill a reincarnated demon.]

[Slayer of Fiends: Kill a demon or ghost of level 20 or above.]

[Changeling: Take the place of a reincarnated demon, complete his legend, and finally join the ranks of the one hundred and eight reincarnated demons.]

[...]

[Note: There is no time limit in this game, but if you die, you will not be able to return to this world. In times of danger, leave immediately.]

Staring at these messages, Wang Liang paused for a moment. Isn’t there already a system—why the need for all this? Was it for the sake of entertainment?

When Wang Liang looked back, the signal banner had already returned to its original appearance. It was as if those words a moment ago had only been a fleeting illusion.

Upon entering the inn, Wang Liang glanced around and noted with surprise that, unlike last time, there wasn’t a single player present in the whole establishment. The previous time he’d entered the game, a small team of players had appeared at his side. Why was there no one here this time?

Before he could make sense of the situation, a group of men drinking and feasting inside the inn had a table rise to their feet.

It was only then that Wang Liang noticed that among the seven or eight drinkers in the inn, there were three distinct groups. So there are always cliques, wherever you go. He recalled that even the recent twenty-person team was divided into three separate camps, and couldn’t help but shake his head—some things never change.

Just then, one burly man set down his wine bowl, rose, and glared at Wang Liang. “Hey, kid, what are you shaking your head for? What, do you look down on me?”

Wang Liang turned toward the man and saw that he stood over six feet tall himself, nearly eye to eye. The man must be a hunter, judging by his clothes made of animal pelts. Wang Liang also caught a strange herbal scent on him, probably used to mask his own odor for stealth.

The man seemed somewhat drunk—face flushed, gaze unfocused. He had fixed on Wang Liang the moment he shook his head, perhaps spoiling for a fight.

Wang Liang said nothing, took a step forward, and punched the burly man in the abdomen. He didn’t use all his strength—at his current level, a full blow might have punched clean through the man. Even so, the hunter doubled over, clutching his stomach and retching.

With his foot, Wang Liang hooked a nearby long bench and sat down, sweeping his gaze over the others. “What’s this, no justice left in the world? Can’t even sit for a drink without a brawl?”

The hunter’s friends looked ready to leap up, but an elderly man among them, more perceptive than the rest, quickly pressed them back down. “Don’t be rash—that’s a soldier.”

As soon as he spoke, everyone quieted. Though Wang Liang wore only plain clothes, his bearing still carried traces of discipline and experience. The battles he’d seen in his dreams left a chill on him that could not be scrubbed away by reading a few more books. The iron scent of blood was unmistakable.

So the whole inn fell silent; no one dared provoke such a dangerous man. Even the hunter’s friends, after checking him over and finding he was merely winded and nauseous, said nothing further.

Instead, the inn’s waiter came bustling over, asking casually, “Honored guest, what would you like to order?”

“Bring me some wine and food. What do you have today?”

“We just butchered a cow, would you care for beef? We’ve also turned three sheep and five dogs—ready to be served at any time. In the back, we keep chickens, ducks, and geese—any can be slaughtered on the spot, prepared however you wish. And today, the hunters brought us a yellow goat and a mountain deer—we can have those prepared for you as well.”

Wang Liang gauged his current appetite, set some silver on the table, and said, “Bring beef and dog meat first, and a bowl of chicken soup—make it rich.”

The waiter glanced at the silver’s weight and quickly retreated. Soon, three large bowls of clear liquor arrived, followed by generous chunks of beef and meltingly tender stewed dog meat.

The beef, clearly from a mature work animal, was roasted but still showed its muscular grain—this had been a laboring beast, not much fat on it. However, the chef’s skill was evident; the meat, fired perfectly, was juicy and smoky but not dry. They’d used a spice Wang Liang didn’t recognize, which lent a tingling sensation on the tongue.

A mouthful of beef, a draught of the crystal-clear wine—Wang Liang felt a surge of vitality.

As for the stewed dog meat, it was a true specialty: cut in large chunks, slow-braised with soy sauce and rock sugar. The meat was so tender it slid off the bone, filling his mouth with rich flavor.

All this, chased by the clear, water-like liquor...

Wait—Wang Liang realized suddenly that he was drinking bowl after bowl and feeling happier with each.

Sensing something odd, he called the waiter over. “Waiter, this wine—”

“This is our house specialty, brewed with mountain spring water. It clears the mind and brightens the eyes, but each person can only have three bowls. We do not sell it outside.”

“I wasn’t finished—”

“No worries, sir. Everyone asks the same questions. Three bowls and you’ll feel nothing, but drink a fourth and you’ll sleep for a whole day. If you want to cross the pass, best not to overindulge.”