Four Split Personalities

Game Time 11:24 AM

Mount Hodir’s Pass, Joint Forces’ Third Encounter Area Front

"Then I’ll head back to the workshop first."

Luna looked at Motan, who was pale as paper beside her, and frowned, "If you’re feeling too bad, don’t force yourself. You can have someone fetch me."

Motan gently caressed the Holy Scripture at his waist and performed the Holy Healing Technique on himself, barely managing to bring his Health Points above 20%, then smiled and nodded at Luna: "No worries, I won’t be polite with you."

"That’s good."

The girl let out a small yawn, then hugged her notebook and scampered off. The Alchemy Workshop was located behind the first encounter area; she had to circle past several joint forces’ formations stationed nearby to get there.

Whereas Motan walked directly towards a nearby camp, as his already depleted Physical Strength Value was constantly being exhausted in multiple folds, causing pain throughout his body and a headache. Since he couldn’t enjoy any reduced mental load within the next twenty minutes, the sensory effects were almost no different from those experienced in reality. Given his poor physical condition, it was quite a feat of determination that he managed to walk here from the command tent located midway up the mountain path.

[Drained... that’s quite apt; I really don’t feel like thinking about anything right now...]

Motan chuckled sorrowfully to himself and stepped into the unusually well-guarded camp, which was so secure that he received numerous greetings without noticing anyone around, all from relatively high-ranked thieves and ranger players within the joint forces.

"Hey there, big bro Black Fan!"

"Boss, you’re here! Boss! Do you see me hanging from the tree on your left?"

"Captain, captain, I heard you passed out from severe bleeding before, is that true?"

"Commander bro, did you catch the Plague DEBUFF, how’s your health?"

"Fan Fan! Fan Fan! The best Fan Fan in the world! You’ve worked so hard, you must take good care of yourself!"

"Reporting, Commander, everything’s normal at the third command center. Please inspect!"

"RL, when are we starting? Can I request to be transferred from the ’Black Guard’ to the front lines? Ah, never mind if it affects the big picture. Just asking."

"Boss, did Miss Luna feed you medicine, too? She said the other day she wants to develop new products focusing on taste, she nearly killed us alive with it! Though at that time, it was just hard to drink, didn’t have the effect of severe bleeding."

[How high is the Stealth level of these guys picked by Feather Song...]

Motan’s mouth twitched as he hesitated in his steps, then waved awkwardly to those companions around him who didn’t show a trace of their presence and thought to himself embarrassingly.

Just then, two heavily armed orc warriors wielding massive hammers approached from the front. They were also members of the ’Black Guard’ (named after Her Highness the Saintess watched a certain anime), both with mid-rank strength equivalent to level 25 players. However, since they were NPCs, they weren’t as familiar as those player guards; seeing Motan, they immediately stood erect as if being reviewed by a leader and awaited orders with a tense expression.

"You’ve worked hard; no enemies will approach here anytime soon. Go rest for a bit."

Motan mustered his energy and smiled at the two orc warriors who had been instilled with impressions like ’Great Black Fan,’ ’Black Vatican Priest is a prodigious genius,’ ’Big Boss Black Fan single-handedly took down entire Misha,’ ’Commander loves shredding Mutants,’ ’Commander and Her Highness the Saintess’s hundred and eight untold stories,’ just after joining the joint forces a few days ago, "Don’t be too tense."

The left orc wearing exquisite chainmail forcefully patted his chest: "Yes!"

The right, stockier orc wearing tusken combat helmet also responded properly, then glanced at Motan’s robe stained with large patches of dark red, and asked with extra concern, "Is your severe bleeding better? I have half a jar of medicine here specially for treating...erm, that condition, an old formula I got from an old shaman years ago, it really works."

[Right, what exactly is going on with this severe bleeding!? And offering hemorrhoid medicine while looking at the bloodstain on my robe, what kind of mindset is that supposed to be?]

Motan dryly shook his head and fast left after fervently declaring his health was still decent...

Two minutes later

After being continuously inquired about his ’severe bleeding’ by several patrolling personnel, Motan sternly walked into a yurt-like earth element structure, glaring furiously at the corner where a girl was squatting on the ground carving a turtle: "Feather Song, you..."

He had only said three words when a burly arm encircled him tightly, and then he saw Ferman, the High Priest, who had popped up from nowhere, staring at him with a worried expression: "Black Fan! I heard you had severe bleeding. Is it because of too much stress recently? Ah, you should have said something earlier. Bro, I have two jars of good medicine, got the formula from an old shaman years ago, it really works!"

"Pfft~"

Feather Song, who was whistling while carving the turtle, burst out laughing right then.

Motan’s temples throbbed as he extricated himself from Ferman’s arm (using up his last bit of physical strength in the process), then plonked down on a stone chair hastily made nearby, adamantly stating, "I just vomited a bit of blood! That’s all! Just blood! Get it?"