003 Setting

“Perhaps when you first enter this game, you’ll be struck by its beautiful scenery, but don’t be deceived by appearances. In Freedom World, survival is the foremost problem you must solve.” Turning a few more corners, Steelheart led Duan Qing steadily in one direction; that was likely their destination.

“And among the issues of survival, the very first challenge you face is—not starving to death.”

“What? The wild boar dragged to the village entrance is actually for eating?” Duan Qing exclaimed in shock. “Do you mean here you have to find your own food? Cook for yourself? Then wouldn’t those who can’t even manage real life be doomed...?”

“Of course not. Look at me—I’m doing quite well,” Steelheart chuckled, though his wrinkled face hinted at some painful memory, so he quickly dismissed the topic. “After all, it’s a game. The village exists to solve these problems. Anything edible you find in the wild, you can bring back to the village. Some villagers will trade survival supplies with you—things like water, bread, dried meat. You can even buy them with money or trade other loot.”

“The villagers in the newbie village are generally very approachable. As long as you casually offer something—fur, frog legs, bones, or even pick some flowers and herbs outside—though not just any weeds, at least something edible, and if it has medicinal or seasoning qualities, even better—they’ll usually accept it. Oh, and you need to say some nice words, what we call brushing up your favorability. Once you secure a steady clientele, your survival here is basically assured.”

Steelheart laughed heartily. “In short, do it yourself and you’ll be well-fed. The inhabitants of Freedom Continent have simplified that saying a bit... Once you leave the village and head to towns, the locals become harder to deal with, but there you’ll find formal channels to eat—like taverns and restaurants.”

“That actually sounds pretty good.” As they turned another corner, sunlight streamed directly above them. Duan Qing raised a hand to shield his eyes and said, “In an age where games are all about flashy combat effects, it’s surprising to see one that focuses on survival. I have to say... well done.”

“But that means players have to pay attention to a lot more system prompts in this world...”

“No, the system won’t notify you of these things... you’ll feel the hunger yourself.”

“What?”

“Thank the fourth-generation virtual technology.” Steelheart raised both hands as if praising the heavens. “In the virtual world, we can feel much more—pain, hunger, cold, heat, and other physiological reactions. The virtual tech simulates them very realistically. So if you go a whole day without eating in Freedom World, you’ll feel... very uncomfortable.”

“Trust me,” Steelheart’s face grew serious as he patted Duan Qing’s shoulder. “That feeling will haunt you for life.”

“Uh, hahaha... I’d rather not experience that.” Duan Qing wiped his brow. “So... if your character is in such a hungry, adverse state, will it affect performance? Like attacks, defense, skill use...?”

“No one goes out to fight hungry, unless under special circumstances, so... no one’s tested it.” Steelheart shrugged. “At least I haven’t heard of anyone foolish enough to try. Maybe someone did, and got eaten by wolves. As for skills...”

He sighed. “That’s even more uncertain...”

“Oh?”

“Skills... the skill system in this game is very... strange, to the point that it’s almost questionable whether there is a skill system at all...”

“Huh?” Duan Qing looked puzzled.

“For starters, this world barely has any skills. Haven’t you seen the official introduction from the game company?”

“No, I haven’t. I just happened to pick this game to play...”

“Figures. Well, let me explain then.”

By now they had passed another intersection and arrived at the village’s western area, a relatively open alley bathed in warm sunlight. A gentle breeze swept through, and a group of unmistakable NPC children appeared nearby, their laughter filling the air. In harmony with this peaceful scene, soft guitar music echoed around them.

“Does this game even have background music?” Duan Qing glanced at Steelheart, who seemed to understand and pointed in a direction. “That’s a bard... every town has one.” Then he suddenly covered his forehead. “But there’s been a troublemaker these past few days...”

Before he could finish, a loud, grating voice rang out: “North—wind—flows—through—thousand—mountains—”

The voice was like a broken gong, a wailing scream rather than a song, abruptly shattering the quiet. It had no rhythm, barely qualified as singing, but its wild vigor instantly drowned out the gentle guitar.

Steelheart shrugged helplessly, his eyes conveying, “That’s the one.” Duan Qing looked toward the source as the children nearby began to complain: “Ahhh, that old bad guy again...”

“Can’t stand it...”

“Let’s find him.”

The kids’ leader gave the order, and a cluster of children scattered. One little boy, seemingly knowing Steelheart, made a face at him before running off. Steelheart smiled wryly and stopped to explain the skill system in Freedom World.

The skill system barely qualified as a system, since very few skills had appeared so far.

Among the top-tier players who had already played and reached high levels, the documented and self-reported skill lists were sparse and mostly repetitive. Moreover, these skills were rarely learned from the game world; they were self-realized.

The existing pattern showed that skill comprehension required wielding the appropriate weapon or equipment and performing the correct action. Once the system recognized that action, you “comprehended” the skill.

“For example, the slashes, stabs, blocks, and parries I’ve learned were all self-realized during wild combat. I didn’t even notice when it happened; it just naturally occurred.” Steelheart glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then drew a short blade from his waist. Though iron, it didn’t look very sharp. “But the system never notifies you.”

He swung the short sword a few times, spinning on the spot. “See, I perform a spinning slash, but there’s no ‘spinning slash’ skill.”

“Maybe the system just considers it a variant of a basic slash...” Duan Qing mused, stroking his chin.

“That’s what most people and even professional players in the alliance think.” Steelheart quickly sheathed the weapon. “Probably because these moves are just variations of the base slashing attack, the system doesn’t recognize them.”

“So when you rapidly stab forward with a dagger, you’re basically just using multiple ‘stabs.’ Swing an axe in a circle, that’s just a ‘slash.’” Steelheart shrugged. “Even if you perform some fancy moves with a strange weapon, as long as they fall within the system’s known skills, it won’t count as a new skill.”

“Interesting...” Duan Qing whispered.

“Hey, when Freedom World launched, many players thought the skill system was terrible. Several well-known players even commented that the skill system had ‘no freedom at all.’ But the company ignored those criticisms. Since other aspects of the game were compelling, those complaints gradually faded amid the game’s rising popularity.”

“Of course, many in the alliance didn’t view the system negatively. On the contrary, many started digging for secrets hidden in the design. But so far, they’ve made no breakthroughs. The skills recognized by the system keep getting listed over and over—still just those few generic ones.”

“So only actions that are doable and non-repetitive can be called ‘skills,’ right?” Duan Qing summarized, lowering his head thoughtfully. “Hmm... very interesting.”

“So now...” Steelheart led Duan Qing onward, “Freedom World is also called the ‘skill world’ because many attempt to study the skills, hoping to uncover secrets.”

“Every day, countless discussions and findings flood the internet, but most are useless. As for the pro player research... ha, who knows if they’re holding back, waiting to surprise everyone at the next Alliance Cup. Anyway...”

“The existing skills known to the vast majority are these: sweep, charge, combo slash, heavy strike, even throwing weapons... to put it your way, when the moment is right, you’ll naturally learn them... probably.”

Steelheart rubbed his belly uncertainly. “Maybe you’ll even learn cooking...”

“What? Really?” Duan Qing quickly interrupted. “There’s no cooking skill?”

“Nope.” They slipped into a shaded alley, the cool air refreshing Duan Qing from his thoughts. “Maybe because that’s not a combat skill... who knows.”

“There’s no universally accepted pattern among skill research; it’s all just guesswork.”

“Is there at least a reliable hypothesis...?”

“Of course.” Steelheart frowned in thought, then raised a finger.

“That hypothesis stems from one fact: higher-level players indeed possess more skills than lower-level ones, though only a few more. But given the small number, those few skills represent notable strength and advantage.” Steelheart slowed his speech. “From this, players concluded that to comprehend more skills, you need some advantage that comes with high level.”

“Hmm.” Furrowing his brows, Duan Qing pondered deeply. “Those people have many advantages...”

“Don’t overthink it. It’s still just a theory.” Steelheart waved off the idea casually. “The clearest advantage is attributes. But there’s no data or rule proving a clear link between attributes and skill comprehension. If someone really cracked that secret, why would they still be playing games? They’d be off making major breakthroughs in future tech and society!”

He paused, then returned to the original topic. “In the end, skill comprehension in this world is a matter of luck. I, and other new players here, only have these skills thanks to countless experienced predecessors summarizing and passing down their knowledge. Whether there’s some underlying law, past players haven’t found it. Whether one will emerge in the future...”

He looked at Duan Qing as if entrusting him with the future and patted his shoulder. “That’s up to you.”

“Stop it, you’re just like the morning sun at eight or nine o’clock—same as me.” Duan Qing brushed away the hand. “So according to you, to master more skills, you first need higher attribute values?”

“I said roughly. But yes, having higher attributes most likely means having more skills. You’ll get to experience that soon enough...” Steelheart continued forward.

Before them, bright light revealed an old house. The building was plainly constructed, with white-gray walls missing chunks of rock, exposing the wooden frame beneath. The roof tiles were sparsely covered with straw, seemingly no longer functional. Two windows on the side had panes still intact but bore marks of once having been covered.

A battered wooden door stood before them, and faint sounds of hammering iron came from within. Steelheart signaled Duan Qing, “We’re here.”

“Cough... this might be a bit rude, but I should ask—you know the etiquette, right?”

“Heh, of course.” Duan Qing replied.

Virtual reality games have evolved over many years, and the Alliance has been established a long time. Contemporary society has repeatedly debated ethical issues arising from interactions between data-simulated characters in virtual worlds. These discussions often ignite from incidents that become hot social topics, rising to theoretical heights, dissected by experts and scholars.

The most famous case was the “village massacre incident” in the virtual reality game Overlord Chronicles a few years ago, prompting reflections on how virtual characters should be treated. The Alliance, as the most authoritative leading organization, has not ignored such issues, proposing many guidelines designed to maintain stability and peace in the virtual world.

Of course, the Alliance has no enforcement power and only advocates these guidelines, hoping most players will comply—and in fact, most people still have some conscience.

One meaningful rule is to communicate with NPCs through role-play.

This was what Steelheart had wanted to mention earlier.

Confirming this, Steelheart knocked on the door. The hammering stopped. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Steelheart, and a... friend I brought along.”

The voice inside paused. “Come in.”

They exchanged a glance, then Steelheart pushed the door open and led the way inside.