Chapter 20 :Eat it or I'll beat you...
The fat man couldn't remember how he descended from Iron Mountain Peak; all he knew was that when he awoke, he was lying on a wooden bed. The bed was as hard as a rock, and the凹凸不平 wooden ridges all over it made the fat man feel like his body had fallen apart when he woke up.
"What the hell... is this a place for humans to live?" The fat man slowly climbed out of bed, swearing. This nap had not restored his energy; instead, he felt even more exhausted.
Looking at everything in this simple log cabin, the fat man finally understood how warlords were trained.
In the center of the log cabin was a stone table with sharp edges, each with clear fractures. They were obviously marks made by weapons.
On the table was a bowl of grayish, slimy stuff that made people nauseous at first sight. A pungent smell filled the entire cabin.
He didn't know what was in the bowl, but one thing was certain: it was not for ordinary people to eat.
"Am I going to spend the next five months like this?" The fat man stared blankly at everything in the log cabin, a look of sorrow and indignation on his face.
"Is this even a life for a human to live?..."
The fat man was extremely hungry at this point. The previous physical exertion had left him without any strength. His eyes were red, and he could swallow anything edible.
But the question was, was that thing on the table edible? Would he die if he ate it?
"It's better to die from eating than from starvation..." After a while, the fat man gritted his teeth and muttered a few words. Then, like a hungry wolf, he lunged at the table and began to devour it.
The pungent smell lingered between his lips and teeth. That feeling was even more painful than when the fat man was deep in the desert without water and had to drink his own urine. The slimy feeling was even more revolting, like chewing on a piece of meat covered with hair.
During this meal, the fat man ate with tears streaming down his face.
But at least he managed to get through it. The fat man deeply understood that if he didn't want to die in the future, he had to pay a hundredfold of "tears" in peacetime.
Just when the fat man finished eating the grayish stuff in the bowl, suddenly, the door creaked open, and Hel with short hair walked in from outside.
Smelling the foul odor in the room and seeing the fat man's lips had turned black, Hel said coldly, "Did you eat that bowl of stuff on the table?"
"Uh... huh?" The fat man first nodded, then suddenly realized that Hel's words were clearly a question and raised his head, looking stunned.
Could it be that the food on the table was not prepared by Hel to train him through hardship?
"That's a compound ingredient refined by my senior brother, mixed with dragon dung, six-winged bat feces..." Hel said calmly to the fat man.
Upon hearing Hel's words, a buzzing sound suddenly echoed in the fat man's mind. Dragon dung, six-winged bat feces... Although the fat man didn't know what dragons and six-winged bats were, the last two words kept echoing in his mind.
"My senior brother originally intended to feed it to the Tianling Tiger, but it wouldn't eat it..." Looking at the fat man, Hel's eyes showed a trace of pity.
The fat man's face was pale and his lips were slowly moving. His eyes were filled with anger. Something that even the Tianling Tiger wouldn't eat was placed on the table? And it was when the fat man was the hungriest.
A trap, definitely a trap.
"I want revenge..." The fat man shouted silently in his heart.
"Alright, now that you're full, let's start today's training. Five hundred meters, today's height is five hundred meters..." Hel said to the fat man with a straight face.
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Looking at the swaying figure of the fat man on Iron Mountain Peak, the clown elder still had a smiling expression.
"He really ate it..." Hel asked the clown elder in a cold voice.
"It's normal. You see, some people are obviously afraid of death, but in their bones, they have stronger willpower than anyone else. In the most dangerous times, they can often unleash all their potential. The prime minister of the Star-Moon Empire once said, 'As an official, if you want to be corrupt well, then you must have stronger abilities than honest officials.' The same principle applies. If you want to live better, then you must be tougher than those who are not afraid of death..." The clown elder smiled and said to Hel beside him.
"...Now, the compound ingredient you refined has been sold for a thousand gold coins in the black market. Someone has offered a reward of five thousand gold coins if they can remove that nasty taste..." Hel's eyebrows suddenly furrowed slightly and said to the clown elder.
"No way..." The clown elder rejected it directly.
"This fat man is lucky. He ate a thousand gold coins in one meal. I'm afraid there's no such luxurious lunch again." Hel said in a deep voice.
"Will you eat it? If you do, I'll provide it to you free of charge..." The clown elder smiled at Hel.
"No, thanks..." Hel said coldly.
At the foot of the mountain, Hel and the clown elder's conversation was unknown to the fat man. He was just climbing up while thinking about how to revenge on the clown elder.
From the moment he met the clown elder, he had been at a disadvantage and had been constantly outsmarted. Always losing without giving the other party a return was absolutely inconsistent with the fat man's character of getting even.
But the main problem now was that the fat man didn't have the power to revenge. Now the fat man had realized one fact: the clown elder was a mage. To refine potions, only alchemy could do it. Alchemy was a patent of mages.
As for someone who could refine compound ingredients, they must possess a level above that of a mage master.
A Mage Lord, that's a being comparable to a Holy Warrior. As for an Archmage, they're on the same level as a Warlord.
If the fatty went up against an Archmage directly, there'd only be one outcome for him: getting beaten up and left lying in ruins. If the Clown Elder were a mage specializing in ice magic, he might even be turned into the most beautiful sculpture.
So the fatty isn't that foolish.
Of course, it's not that the fatty has no chance to seek revenge.
Mages rely on spells to cast their magic. Once the spell is interrupted, they're no different from ordinary civilians. However, once a mage reaches the level of a Great Mage, they acquire a special magic called the Magic Shield, specifically designed to prevent spells from being interrupted.
Of course, the Magic Shield isn't absolute. To break through it requires the strength of a Senior Warrior.
Becoming a Senior Warrior and then launching a surprise attack is the fatty's only hope.
"I must become a Senior Warrior within five months..." the fatty muttered to himself.
At this moment, the fatty's body was suddenly filled with determination, as if he could already see the Clown Elder with a bruised and swollen face.
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"Impressive, you're still conscious after climbing up to 550 meters. You've surpassed our expectations today..." Hel said to the fatty, who was now collapsed on the ground, panting heavily.
The fatty was utterly exhausted and couldn't utter a single word.
At this moment, the Heavenly Spirit Tiger, which had carried the fatty down from Iron Mountain Peak, suddenly unfolded its wings and flew far away from him.
The door of the cabin opened, and a foul odor emanated from inside. The Clown Elder came out, carrying a potion made from various ingredients.
Compared to last time, the putrid smell was even stronger this time.
Seeing the potion, the fatty's face turned pale again.
"Drink this potion..." Hel said coldly to the fatty.
"No way, I won't drink it even if you kill me..." the fatty declared with great righteousness, looking like a hero on the gallows delivering a noble speech.
"If you don't drink it, I'll beat you up..."
"... I'll drink it."