Players were different. Because they treated this world as a game and never truly died, most of them were full of lively and upbeat traits, and even some special professions, such as Thieves and Assassins and so on, had a peculiar aura—a cold, calm kind of professional temperament.
They couldn’t possibly have a sense of lifelessness, a sense of despair as if there was no hope.
After all, players had a fallback no matter what.
Even if the character couldn’t be used and was being hunted by NPC forces, the worst that could happen was deleting the character and restarting the game.
This was why players couldn’t possibly have a lifeless temperament.
Not far away, the magical flames were still burning, and it would take at least half an hour for them to extinguish.
Jason and the other members of Silver Wings even had their iron armor burned away, not to mention their bodies.
Not even the ashes of their corpses could be found.
Roland didn’t bother to wait for the other party to resurrect. Besides, even after they revived, they would never dare start trouble with him again.
He then cast his gaze in the direction the magic spider had tracked, estimating the distance.
The bow-wielder who sneaked-attacked him ran fast and was about to run past the range that the magic spider could track.
After all, Roland’s mental power also had a limit, and there was a maximum distance at which he could control the magic spider and receive the images sent back.
A spatial bubble swallowed him and jetted him out.
The whistling wind soared into the sky with him, disappearing in an instant.
Roland didn’t fly high; he could see the trees below him sweeping by like water, chasing after the magic spider’s mental imprint. Within a minute, Roland saw a silhouette of a man running through the woods below, appearing and disappearing at times.
And the magic spider’s mental imprint was a little behind the man.
That’s him.
With a thought, Roland had the spatial bubble project him toward the ground.
His entire body transformed into a streak of white light, and the sound brought about by his high-speed flight was like a thunderous boom that smashed directly into the ground.
The huge momentum directly hauled up all the material around Roland in a radius of more than ten meters, and the trees a meter further were blown back to the point of almost kissing the ground.
The bow-wielder’s reaction speed was very fast, and when Roland was about to land on the ground, he had already changed direction at a right angle midway and immediately escaped in the other direction.
He dashed quickly while turning his head back.
After the strong wind swept by, only smoke and dust were left.
The bow-wielder’s lifeless face revealed some surprise. It was the first time he had ever seen such exaggerated power when someone crashed down from the sky.
However, this being the case, he fled with all his might.
This person was clearly a monster.
Just before he ran a few steps, he suddenly saw something seemingly emerging from the smoke and dust, and a faint white light.
Just when he found this strange, he felt his blood run cold at the sight that suddenly appeared before him.
As an agile professional, the specialty of Intuitive Reaction worked in his favor this instant. He instinctively jumped, then saw a white ring of ice almost graze his feet.
Then he saw a Mage in a black robe smiling ten meters in front of him, pointing a finger at him.
The blue Arcane Bullets that covered the skies were like a flower blooming before his eyes.
There was no way to exert power in the air; it was unavoidable.
However, this was actually just an illusion. Facing a power stronger than one’s own and things that were prone to cause harm to oneself, one would instinctively exaggerate them; the Arcane Bullets that seemed to cover the sky in this bow-wielders’ eyes were actually no more than twenty-four.
But this was enough.
The Arcane Bullets that erupted as if they were canister shots enveloped a great spatial range and the bow-wielder, who jumped in midair, was flooded by the wave of bullets.
Several Arcane Bullets hit him, knocking him backward in the air and into a tree before he slid down limply.
This man wasn’t dead and was even struggling and thrashing around, trying to get up.
The life force of a professional was indeed much, much stronger than that of an ordinary person: an ordinary person would have undoubtedly turned into a puddle of mud after taking so many Arcane Bullets.
Roland walked up slowly.
The bow-wielder smiled miserably and stuffed something in his mouth.
Roland raised his hand and cast two successive spells of Detoxification and Minor Healing.
The bow-wielder took a poisonous pill, and just as his face started to turn green, the poison was immediately removed by Detoxification, and the other spell slowly healed the bow-wielder’s body.
The bow-wielder’s dirty face covered in black mud showed some surprise.
“It’s not that easy to die,” Roland said gently. “Name the man who commands you, and I can let you go.”
The bow-wielder slowly stood up, threw aside his bow, pulled out a dagger from his back, and sneered, “To actually heal me, an Assassin, and even willing to let me go, what a benevolent lord of a Mage.”
Hearing the other party’s mystifying voice, Roland was unconcerned and continued, “I can guarantee this with all my honor.”
“Hehe!”
With a disdainful sneer, the Assassin shifting into an attack stance, and an immense killing intent rushed forth.
Roland said helplessly, “You’re already heavily injured. Even with a healing spell, you won’t heal that quickly, you’re no match for me. And besides, I’m a Golden Son, so even if you get away with killing me, I can just as well…”
It was then that the Assassin smiled as if his scheme had prevailed and the dagger in his hand plunged into his own heart.
Roland was stunned.
And then the Assassin sliced the dagger diagonally with more force. Half of his heart cavity was cut open, and bright red blood spurted out like spring water.
The Assassin’s smile solidified on his face and his body collapsed backward.
This kind of critical and serious injury could not be saved by Minor Healing alone.
Roland was stunned for a while and said, depressed, “Oh, a martyr.”
He snapped his fingers, and the mud swirled, burying the man’s corpse in the ground. This was sort of giving him a place to be buried without leaving his corpse laid out in the wilderness to be eaten by wild animals.
Roland was silent for a while before flying back to his Magic Tower.
At this moment on the forum, someone else posted a thread about how Roland had just crushed over a dozen players from Silver Wings.
The Professions Are So Unbalanced, My Hands and Feet Are Cold, What Do You Want From a Warrior?
Despite choosing an exaggerated title, the content was pretty simple and straightforward, without any words but a video.
It was the process of Roland one-sidedly beating over a dozen Silver Wings Warriors in a minute. The entire video was in black and white, with a mournful shawm melody. The noteworthy part was Jason’s incompetent rage of yelling “Best Cheater,” which was edited with a savage method of repeated slow playback, highlighting his extreme frustration and anger.
It gave people a feeling of bitterness, unfairness, and wanting to crack up.
Players responded with a heavy heart, and the one that got the most thumbs up was this one.
“Alas, hell is empty, and the devil is on earth (doge).”
