Magic Farm 158

Chapter 158: He Was Isolated by the Entire Regional Channel

[I Love Survival Games: He didn’t bring a teleportation scroll?]

Qi Yu fell silent.

He remembered that he had emphasized it before—for safety’s sake, it was best to bring a teleportation scroll.

Now, he actually found himself a bit curious about what My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s had experienced.

If one were as cautious as he had been in Gold Cave City, there shouldn’t be anyone bored enough to kidnap him.

Ophelia Royal City was an exception, but that was only because he and Dan Xingyu had released a dragon, which attracted so many powerful figures.

So what was going on with My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s?

Did he release a dragon too?

[Reaching for the Moon in the Ninth Heaven: He probably didn’t bring one.]

She wasn’t too clear on the details either. For someone as prideful as My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s, admitting “I was kidnapped” was probably already the limit.

For him to tell anyone—especially these people he considered “subordinates” or “accessories”—the details of his kidnapping would probably be even more unbearable than death.

But by the same token, it was possible to infer that his current situation must be quite dire.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s was currently locked in an underground cell, frantically sending messages to a small group via his survival panel.

[My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s: The teleportation scroll? Haven’t you bought one yet?]

[Hundred Ghosts Against the Current: Boss, that thing is really rare. If you don’t have one, how could ordinary players get it?]

[Hundred Ghosts Against the Current: How about asking in the regional channel?]

Useless trash! My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s gnashed his teeth.

Why had he endured a whole day here?

Just so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself in the regional channel.

If he tried to buy a teleportation scroll there, anyone who had one certainly wouldn’t sell it to him.

Besides, there was the risk of exposing his situation.

Unless he told the truth: if people really found out that he’d gone out exploring and got captured by natives, how could he show his face again?

The wounds on his body throbbed with pain. He had healing potions in his backpack, but he curled up, gritting his teeth, not daring to take them out.

Let’s go back to the morning.

He’d followed that drunkard all the way forward, until they arrived at a domed building.

It was a tavern.

Completely unexpected—in such a cold, shabby little town, there was actually such a large tavern.

In broad daylight, the place was packed with people, men and women, drinking and laughing wildly. For some reason, the doors and windows were all shut, the interior dim, making the scene seem almost like a gathering of demons.

A wave of inexplicable panic hit My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s, and he instinctively tried to retreat.

But it was already too late.

Those revelers, like hungry wolves catching the scent of meat, all turned their heads in unison and stared straight at him.

His collar was grabbed, and he was lifted clean off the ground.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s was shocked: it was that seemingly drunk vagrant! Where did he get such strength?

He immediately tried to break free, but that hand was like iron, holding him fast.

Gritting his teeth, My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s summoned his long blade and swung it hard behind him.

“Oh?”

He hit nothing.

A sharp pain shot through his lower back, and he even seemed to hear his own bones groan in agony.

He was kicked flying, crashing down onto a large table.

Cups, plates, and bowls clattered to the ground.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s had never experienced such excruciating pain. For a moment, he was stunned, his mind blank, breaking out in a cold sweat as he curled up.

His blade was picked up by the drunkard, who examined it closely.

“Nice blade,” he grinned, “but it’s wasted in the hands of such trash.”

He swept his gaze around, meeting the greedy eyes in the room, and gave a sly, threatening smile: “This fat sheep is mine. I’ll take the blade as my reward—no one should mind, right?”

“This fat sheep says he’s from the Forest of Stars.” He tossed out another lure. “You all must have heard the rumors recently. He must have more good stuff on him.”

If not for this, My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s would never have survived until now.

The moment the words “Forest of Stars” were spoken, the whole place grew excited.

The legendary home of the elves.

Last month, a small merchant guild called the Borg Guild had risen to fame in the Orra Empire by auctioning goods from the “Forest of Stars.”

A bearded dwarf jumped out, nudging My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s over with his toe to get a look at him, then asked suspiciously, “Aren’t the Forest of Stars supposed to be home to elves? He doesn’t look like an elf.”

“Drunkard, are you making this up just for the blade?”

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s finally snapped out of his pain.

So these people really did know about the Forest of Stars.

Elves? What elves?

And what rumors from before?

Was this all caused by I Love Survival Games? What exactly did he do?

He heard the drunkard say, “Why would I lie? You all saw his blade appear out of thin air, didn’t you? But I just searched him—he doesn’t have any storage items on him.”

“He’s a strange one.”

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s had just been about to take out a healing potion from his backpack, but that remark scared him into freezing.

Then he was… stripped naked.

So many eyes on him, but those gazes were like butchers eyeing a pig on the chopping block.

The desire in their eyes was… calculating how to carve out the best piece.

He didn’t even have time to feel shame—only terror.

“Sure enough, no storage items.” The bearded dwarf kicked him and growled, “Kid, where did you get that blade just now? Tell the truth.”

“And are you really from the Forest of Stars?”

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s had never been through anything like this. Gritting his teeth, he shifted, grabbed his clothes, and draped them over himself, feeling only slightly more at ease.

“Pretty particular, aren’t you?” The dwarf laughed heartily.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s mind spun desperately. He already realized he was in deep trouble.

With so many people here, who knew how many were martial artists.

And even if they weren’t, he couldn’t even handle that drunkard.

The only good news was that these natives clearly couldn’t see his survival panel, nor access his backpack.

That gave him a little reassurance.

“I really am from the Forest of Stars, but I don’t know anything about elves.”

He spoke quickly, “I’m a minor lord of the Forest of Stars. I came out this time just to see the world.”

He didn’t dare say he was here to sell things.

This was obviously a den of thieves.

“Minor lord?” The dwarf laughed. “Then, Lord, where are the good things you’ve got hidden? Hand them over!”

The last three words were laced with menace.

A murderous aura pressed in.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s regretted once again not listening to I Love Survival Games. He should have found a way to get a teleportation scroll before coming out to explore.

Who could have expected such bad luck, to end up in a place full of such vicious brutes?

He tried, “I don’t have anything else, I just brought this blade…”

A sharp pain struck his head—the dwarf’s palm, as big as a fan, had slapped him.

“No more good stuff?”

A sinister voice came from the crowd: “If he doesn’t have anything good, he’s worthless. Kill him and throw him out for the dogs.”

“I have! I have!”

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s shouted, “I’m not hiding anything! I have a mysterious item, a family heirloom. But I can only take out one thing every hour!”

“I already took out the blade just now. The rest, I can only bring out after another hour!”

After saying this, he was beaten again.

The pain was so overwhelming he stopped reacting, and when his mind grew muddled from the torment, he started rambling, saying anything.

When he came to, his face was ashen, but looking at the others, something seemed off.

Much of what he’d said seemed to have been “filtered out.”

Was it the survival game?

Just as the natives couldn’t see the survival panel or find the players’ backpacks, anything related to the “survival game” couldn’t be heard by them either.

He was locked in an underground cell.

After several beatings, he finally started using his brain, realizing he was definitely being watched and absolutely didn’t dare take anything out of his backpack at random.

Especially healing potions—if they saw his wounds heal, he’d be tortured again.

He could only use the survival panel to contact the small group, hoping to buy a teleportation scroll.

But in reality…

A bunch of players blacklisted by Zone 01’s top player—how many of them could possibly have anything good?

Not to mention, they weren’t exactly eager to help him, and even if they were, Zone 01’s players wouldn’t want to deal with them.

He was kept locked up until night. Every hour, someone would come down and force him to hand over an item.

Potions, tools, equipment…

If the quality didn’t satisfy them, he’d get another beating.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

The group was full of useless trash.

The only thing keeping My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s going was the 24-hour time limit on the random region exploration scroll.

When he arrived, a white portal had suddenly opened in his territory.

So, after 24 hours, would he be able to return the same way?

If he could just hold out for 24 hours, it would be over.

That’s what he’d thought.

But the bandits were insatiably greedy.

Every hour, he had to hand over something good, and their demands only grew.

If he didn’t please them, they’d kick him around for fun.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s knew full well: those people—no, they didn’t even count as people, those demons—didn’t care about his life.

He was only alive because he could “produce good things.”

They never believed him.

But they were so arrogant, none of them thought he could escape, so they just kept him there, slowly squeezing out his possessions.

There were still more than ten hours until the next morning.

This wouldn’t do.

If this went on for another ten rounds, even if he managed to return tomorrow morning, the losses would be too great.

And the suffering would be no less.

Gritting his teeth, My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s opened the regional chat channel:

[My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s: Offering a huge reward for a teleportation scroll.]

At this hour, the regional channel was at its busiest.

But after he posted, not a single top player with a teleportation scroll responded.

Even “Cockroach Tastes Weird,” the well-known surfing enthusiast, was nowhere to be seen.

Everyone seemed to tacitly ignore his message.

My Fate Is Mine, Not Heaven’s: …

Maybe it was the beating, but his mind was finally working—he clearly realized something.

To put it a bit dramatically, he had been isolated by the entire regional channel.

[Author’s Note]

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