Chapter 7

As I was playing with that rotten stick, swinging it around like the low-level orcs in the games I used to play, laughing as if I were the king of the world, with the air of someone who could conquer the globe with just one strike, Lar came up to me rather rudely, tapped my head, and said with a sour face.

"You shouldn't think it's free. Now that you have a weapon, you should start trying to fight. As a proud class changer, the responsibility we bear should be commensurate with the glory and respect we receive. Our responsibility is to drive the forces of hell out of the human world."

Lar's expression gradually became serious, and with his lofty and solemn demeanor, if he were to put on a white priest's robe and hold a thick, dark book, he could really rival those white-bearded priests on the altar.

"Yes, sir."

I responded reluctantly, but deep down, I knew this was a reality I would have to face sooner or later. As a druid, if I were to say on the street, "Oh, how I miss the taste of sweet potatoes at home, I really want to go back and plant sweet potatoes," I would probably be despised to death by the common people.

I just didn't expect to face it so soon. The thought that my supposedly legendary (in my own mind) battle life would start with a plain wooden stick and be forced by a ruthless and scheming knight made me want to bash my head against a block of tofu.

Of course, there's no tofu in this world, so that last part is just a fancy way of saying it.

And so, I was forced to begin my first battle. The opponent, of course, was a zombie. Its slow movements and dull senses made it very safe for its enemies. As long as you were careful not to be surrounded, it couldn't harm any class changer, and even common people could easily escape from it.

Observing for many days wasn't just talk. I had already thoroughly understood the zombie's abilities and habits. Though it moves slowly, both in action and in preparation, once it gathers enough strength, its attack speed is lightning fast, like a venomous snake striking, transitioning from complete stillness to sudden movement.

Of course, if I had a ranged attack, there would be no question, but unfortunately, I hadn't learned any skills and didn't even have a short bow made of tofu. So, I had to hold the plain wooden stick and move in a circle around the zombie, with a 10-meter radius.

If I had to describe the atmosphere more seriously, I could say it was like a martial arts competition, with one side as immovable as a mountain, planning to act after the other, and the other side looking for an opportunity to strike first. The tension was very high, and the audience was very tense... Hey, Doug, don't look like a hungry ghost, will you? Will you die if you eat one less piece of meat?

This atmosphere lasted for about 15 minutes. The audience, seeing me, who was supposed to be the one to strike first, showing no intention of moving, just pretending to circle the zombie, finally got fed up.

The judges, who were supposed to be high-ranking monks from Shaolin, Wudang, and Emei, oh, I got too into it, sorry, they were actually a ruthless holy knight and two useless barbarians, started coughing loudly, trying to push me, the young sprout of the country, into the abyss. Doug even whistled and threw a piece of half-eaten meat at me.

Damn Doug, you fake hooligan fan, I cursed in my heart. If he were a fan in the original world, he would definitely cause trouble at every game and be blacklisted by all the stadium security.

Under the sharp gazes of the three, I had no choice but to pick up the stick, shout to boost my courage, and charge at the zombie. My stiff steps and numerous flaws in my movements made the three on the side shake their heads—fortunately, the opponent was a zombie. If it were a nimble Fallen, I would look like a fat, greasy duck, stretching my neck and waddling over to be sliced.

"Ha!" The first strike finally landed. My first strike in life, why are you looking at me like that? I just accidentally hit it from behind, it was an accident, a mistake, definitely not a sneak attack. I'm not that kind of person!

With the first strike, while the zombie was stunned, I immediately retreated a few steps, then cautiously watched the zombie.

"Wu, what are you doing? Quickly finish it off," Lar couldn't stand it anymore, like a Japanese commander urging his subordinates to charge up the hill against the Communists.

"Lar, when I attacked it, I felt it was about to explode," I replied, like a peasant in a trench with bombers overhead, shielding myself from the dust and debris with my left hand and holding a telegraph machine in my right, shouting, "The enemy's fire is too strong, request support from higher-ups."

I carefully observed every movement of the zombie after the attack, ensuring that the strike didn't provoke its hatred. Then, with a serious expression, I said, "I think I discovered something. If I remember correctly, the mummies in the second level of the ancient tomb do indeed explode with poison gas after death..."

"Bullshit, if you keep slacking off, I'll castrate you..."

Lar's veins bulged, and he spewed out curses that holy knights were forbidden to use.

Uh, it seems they don't cost anything...

Seeing Lar's crazy look, as if he would turn into a zombie if I didn't act, I reluctantly charged again. With the experience of the first strike, my nerves were much more relaxed. Looking at the zombie's wobbly steps, I thought to myself, "Old Buddha, let me give you a leg massage," and swung the stick mercilessly at its knee joint.

The intention was good, but the strength was lacking. The zombie stumbled but quickly regained its balance, like a roly-poly toy. It turned its hollow eyes toward me, and I tensed up, thinking, "Here it comes."

Sure enough, the next moment, the zombie's green nails shot through the spot where I had been standing. What a move, like a breast-grabbing dragon claw! The speed was terrifying. If it were the old me, even if I could predict its attack path, I wouldn't be able to dodge.

But for me, now a druid, it was a piece of cake. I did a lazy roll, no, it should be a "18 rolls on the ground," but that's not quite right. In short, I rolled on the ground very gracefully, with a high difficulty and elegance index. When I got up, I didn't forget to swing the stick between its left and right thighs. Alas, the expected critical hit didn't happen. Was this zombie a eunuch in its past life?

With one experience, things became easier. Many things aren't hard, it's just that few people dare to try.

In no time, the zombie fell to the ground under my fierce attacks. I immediately rushed forward, suppressing my disgust, and felt under the corpse, praying, "Boss, it's my first time killing a monster, give me some face and drop something, anything. No need for a legendary, just a few green or yellow items would do, and if you could throw in a wolf head with a bunch of skills, that would be perfect."

But the heavens didn't seem to feel my resentment. As I considered whether to rip open its rotten belly to see if there was anything inside, Lar timely stopped me, saying with a sorrowful look.

"Although this is a sinful monster, who are we? We are the light and glory, the class changers! We can't desecrate the dead..."

I think what Lar really meant was, "Kid, don't be silly. There's nothing in the corpse. You can crush it all you want, but you won't find anything. This is the experience of countless predecessors. I've tried it many times..."

"Not bad, Wu. Your talent is indeed remarkable. Even with a slow zombie, few people can come out unscathed on their first encounter, though your fighting style is hard to accept..."

Lar's eyes were full of complexity. On one hand, he was excited to witness the birth of a genius, but on the other, he was worried that I would continue with such a despicable fighting style, and later it would be discovered that it was a holy knight named Lar who forced me to do it...

The two barbarians looked at me with a hint of enthusiasm, as if they wanted to spar with me.

"Not at all, this is easy to do. If I were praised just because I'm level 1, it wouldn't be fair to many others. After all, in real battles, no one cares about your level or whether you're human."

Feeling that I had done something significant, I scratched my head, emphasizing the words "level 1" and "human," which finally dissuaded the barbarian brothers from wanting to spar with me.

In the following days, Uncle Lar would always demonstrate first, then leave some zombies for me to deal with alone. On one hand, he was eager to nurture talent, and on the other, he seemed to want to correct my fighting style.

I didn't disappoint Lar. From facing one zombie alone to taking on four at once, my fighting style gradually became more proficient and slightly more orthodox, moving from a despicable style to a pseudo-orthodox style.

Why did I abandon the extremely despicable style and move towards a more orthodox one? Isn't the despicable style the legendary golden finger that allows the weak to defeat the strong?

Don't forget, this isn't a game. The despicable style is risky. If you succeed, you can turn the tide, but if you fail, you might die. I don't think I've reached the master level of the despicable style, so I can't risk my life. The orthodox style, though more rigid, is relatively safer.

So, I wisely abandoned the despicable style, though I didn't completely give it up. In safe situations, a bit of despicability can save a lot of resources.

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**End of Chapter**