017 The Mage’s Wish, The Village of Tranquility

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Iron Brother departed with a carefree air, but before leaving, in their final conversation, he and the other two shared some information with Duan Qing—among it, details about mages that piqued Duan Qing’s interest.

To delve deeper, he logged off briefly to scour the mage section of the forum, only to realize he had been somewhat wishful in his earlier assumptions.

A few days ago, when he hesitated about distributing his skill points, had he recklessly allocated all his initial points into Intelligence or Spirit, perhaps, like putting ten points into Strength, his body would have exhibited noticeable changes. Yet, he still wouldn’t have become a mage.

One crucial reason was the threshold all aspiring magic users in the Free World must cross: the Mage Identification.

To grasp spells, one must first confirm their own elemental affinity, then learn foundational spellcasting techniques from experienced mages. The identification process was not unexpected to Duan Qing. Generally, one visits a specialized identification center where a special device measures the relevant attributes, enabling the correct path for spell cultivation.

Currently, the Free World recognizes four elemental attributes: Earth, Fire, Water, and Wind. Although the existence of hidden new elements cannot be ruled out, since no players have discovered any others so far, it’s likely these four are all there are.

As for the device used at the identification centers… crystal balls? Magic wands? Or magic boxes?

Though mage players remain few, many have undergone identification—even those with just one Intelligence point probably join in for the experience. Thus, the identification process is familiar to many, and researching it would certainly yield results.

Yet Duan Qing chose not to dig further.

Better to preserve some mystery; otherwise, it would be dull…

Additionally, rumors say that beyond the Mage Council’s official identification centers scattered across the land, there is another method: an artificial identification conducted by powerful mages themselves.

In principle, this is the more orthodox method on the Free Continent. Unfortunately, there are too few “powerful mages” for the Mage Council to station them everywhere for such routine work, so magical alchemy devices handle these tasks instead.

High-level mages are better employed for world-saving affairs; expecting them to perform identifications for mere players is unrealistic. Offend one, and a fireball might be the mildest punishment…

Still, lucky players exist. It’s said that Reverse Wind You Ran, a top-ranked player in the Alliance leaderboard, apprenticed under a great mage in the Free World and learned much. Perhaps many like him exist but do not come forward.

Duan Qing did not hope for such a fateful encounter but was annoyed by the rule that one cannot pursue mage skills without identification. Forum discussions mentioned that practicing spells outside one’s elemental affinity is possible but inevitably inefficient and weak.

Moreover, whether one can grasp the basic casting methods taught depends on the player’s comprehension—simply put, their gaming intelligence.

“In short, to be a mage, you have to officially change your profession first… that’s the gist,” Duan Qing sneered. “No wonder so many rage at the official site about this barrier… lucky I’m not fanatic about mages.”

He wasn’t opposed to the rule itself but found his own elemental attribute far more intriguing—said to be fixed like initial stat points. Some zealots once abandoned well-developed characters just to reroll for a favored elemental attribute. Ultimately, it was proven this trait is ingrained at birth and cannot be changed.

Stat points are one thing, but what system determines a person’s elemental affinity in the Free World? Duan Qing wondered, then abandoned the unanswerable question.

Such zealots are rare—reaching identification level requires far more time and effort than the initial stat trial, and the harsh conclusion leaves them lamenting for days. The final verdict was pinned atop major forums as a warning: do not waste time trying to alter your fate.

Duan Qing felt no sympathy and saw no merit in their efforts, only recognizing in these enthusiasts a reflection of his former self—once equally passionate about game mechanics, history, playstyles, even bugs. Now, his enthusiasm was less fervent than those pioneers memorialized in forums.

For now, he’d just play whatever came his way.

Still, even with such realizations, Duan Qing found it hard to experience mage content early on. Another despairing fact was that mage identification could not be done in novice villages like Greenstone Village. The Mage Council, large as it was, had no branch in such remote places.

Thus, any player aspiring to be a mage must first endure powerlessness in the early stages and the dangers of traveling to towns for identification.

They might invest points in useless stats for spellcasting, or hold back points, growing weak and enduring slow leveling and frequent defeats. Even after identification and beginning mage training, it’s essentially starting over, and statistics show their combat power is not significantly greater than others.

A classic high-risk, low-reward scenario—this was Iron Brother’s final verdict before his departure.

“You seemed concerned about this, so I told you more. I’m not stopping you—after all, it’s your choice—but I must warn you… though since you already put points into Strength, I assume you’re not aiming that way,” he said.

“Heh, why can’t I just invest in both…”

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“Then you’d be shattering the genius’s veil and becoming a fool,” came the teasing reply.

“Maybe even a mad genius…”

This world had no strict profession divisions anyway. Getting identified wouldn’t kill me… Back in the game, Duan Qing looked over his character’s stats and thought,

I might as well join the fun… just not now.

Following their arrangement, he informed the blacksmith about Iron Brother’s departure and browsed the wares, hoping to find something suitable for his current level.

“Is that so, off to Windflower Town…” The blacksmith sighed unusually upon hearing the news. “Good for him to see the outside world…”

“Looks like you’re quite fond of the world beyond,” Duan Qing said, feigning interest as he examined the gear hanging on the wall, probing the mysterious man.

The bald man’s expression darkened, then hardened as his face turned as iron-black: “Thank you for the news…”

“Haha, no thanks needed… Hey, what are you doing? I still want to shop! This breastplate looks nice! Hey, wait—hey hey hey…”

Bang!

“Well, yeah, I really can’t afford that…” Duan Qing stood, brushing dust off himself, watching the afternoon village scene.

Afternoon sunlight, birdsong, children’s laughter drifting through the streets. Several players passed by, smiling knowingly at Duan Qing’s novice gear. Mary, the village deity, seemed to have lost her cat again as she wandered slowly, calling “Chubby,” sometimes helped by kind players who earned her grateful smiles—the most valuable reward she could offer, much like what Duan Qing once did. A basket-carrying girl passed by—Sara, recently hired by the general store owner, now known among players as the roaming food vendor and a beloved feature of Greenstone Village. Today, a small flower adorned her black satin hair—who gave it, no one knew…

Amid the slow plucking of strings, distant serene music carried by the gentle spring breeze reached Duan Qing’s ears, rustling leaves and swaying branches, creating a soothing accompaniment. This tranquil atmosphere spread quietly, allowing any player to relax their weary mind and body.

If life here could always be like this, it would be wonderful… Duan Qing thought.

But the next moment, that peace shattered with a sudden roar.

“Yellow—sand—like tides, sweeping—across—the sky—”

Damn it, I’m going to deal with that old man… For the first time, Duan Qing shared the children’s united resentment and followed the sound.

The authentic chant echoed through the skies and the whole village. Even at the entrance, players frequently heard this raspy shouting. Though not the first time disturbed by such “noise,” this time Duan Qing resolved to find the old man rumored by Dream Bamboo in some strange tale—not just because his peace was broken, but also out of curiosity.

The old man had done this many times; resentment against him must have peaked long ago. It was a wonder he was still “alive.” Rumor had it he wasn’t a local but had been here long enough—yet no “peace-loving” person had stepped in to handle this misfit?

The village’s alleyways remained old and labyrinthine, so wandering without care often led to getting lost. Duan Qing tread carefully, discerning direction, while elsewhere, a petite figure in a purple hood also hesitated and moved slowly.

Dream Bamboo had just recovered and left the infirmary. She hesitated whether to visit the herbal shop next to the village chief’s house. She had failed her herb-gathering task after selling the items and due to recent events—and worst, lost the borrowed bamboo basket.

Failing the quest was one thing, but losing someone’s belongings was serious. If she hadn’t gotten the desired items, the owner might comfort her with “It’s okay, try again next time,” but losing a basket meant compensation at least—and worse, the old lady might never trust her again…

Anxious and uncertain how to apologize, Dream Bamboo fretted. She had made many trips recently, just stabilizing her livelihood, only for this to happen…

An apology might just patch things up… hopefully?

“It’s just a bit heartbreaking,” she thought, her face showing distress at the possible cost.

Since leaving the guild team, she had returned the gear and lost the previous care and support. Though determined to be self-reliant, she was no expert, and alone, options were limited. She hadn’t saved much money lately.

Though the shop owner was a kindly, white-haired old lady who seemed easy to talk to, losing her basket made the kind girl uneasy. What if it hurt the woman’s business? What if it was painstakingly handwoven? What if it was a treasured heirloom…?

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Her thoughts grew tangled as she walked in the alley’s shadows, fingers nervously twisting together, unsure what to do. A figure suddenly blocked her path. Startled, the girl then dashed toward it like finding a savior.

“Hey!”

Duan Qing turned, seeing the familiar purple hood approaching and rapidly enlarging before his eyes.

Thud! “Ouch!”

Two figures collided, then separated. Duan Qing was nearly winded by the excited girl; she rubbed her head, whimpering. He almost laughed, reminded of Mary’s poor chubby cat.

“What are you doing…” After his shock, Duan Qing scolded solemnly. He recognized Dream Bamboo and had wanted to visit her at the infirmary.

The little cat quickly escaped the pain, excitedly circling him. “Hey, bad uncle, want to come with me somewhere?”

“Bad uncle…” Duan Qing’s mouth twitched.

“What’s that expression, uncle? I’m not going to hurt you…” The girl frowned, then suddenly thought of something. Her eyes rolled mischievously before she put on a pitiful face. “You fell on me so many times before, causing serious damage to my body and mind, yet you just brushed it off without even a word…”

But didn’t I pay your medical fees…?

“But—now!” The girl’s face transformed into a beautiful smile. “I’m generous today, so I won’t hold it against you. But now, you have to do me a favor…” She tugged Duan Qing forward as she spoke.

She rattled on, leaving no chance for Duan Qing to respond. The “pay me back” thought stayed locked inside his mind. Yet hearing this, he tensed, fearing some new trouble:

“Stop, stop! Did you get into trouble again…?”

“Do I look like someone who can’t keep still?”

“To be honest, a bit reckless…”

“What did you say, huh? Whatever! Just come with me to be a witness and explain a little, okay? Come on, help me out—an emergency in the martial world…” She chattered nonstop.

Sunlight, breeze, swaying branches, old walls, passing crowds, the lively girl, her small hand tugging his sleeve, swinging wildly with her hurried steps, her incessant chatter concealing a little mischievousness—all these sounds and sights filled Duan Qing’s ears. Yet he remembered little, for the scene stirred a faint déjà vu. Distant images flickered in his mind, some long-forgotten memories stirring to life.

When Duan Qing regained his senses, the girl had already dragged him far along.

He glanced back toward the chanting’s origin; the old man’s voice had ceased, likely stopped by someone…

Peace returned to the village. Duan Qing looked again at the purple-hooded figure pulling him along and listened to her incessant chatter, feeling an unfamiliar warmth.

This feeling… of being needed… was something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

He shook his head, casting it away, then slipped back into his usual demeanor and teased the girl.

“By the way, weren’t you half-dead from that beating? How come you’re out so soon…”

“You’re the one who was half-dead! And you’re definitely not new at this, uncle. This is a game—I can’t really die…”

The two figures tugged and pulled, gradually disappearing into the alley’s shadows.