Half Elf Ranger

Chapter 3 Nine Swords
Cold Winter City, a free federal city facing the sea.

Thorne walked silently in the lower city next to the port, walking towards his destination.

The lower city area is the residence of low-level civilians. There are many dilapidated stone and rock-roofed houses, some of which look crumbling, as if they will collapse at any time.

A gust of wind blows, the cold wind blowing from the Sea of ​​Glory and the moisture mixed with the fishy smell of fish and shrimp greedily pervade this backward urban area, making passers-by unable to tighten their thin clothes.

Most of the civilians living nearby are ordinary people who have endured urban labor for a long time, as well as some strange outsiders.

Longshoremen, sailors, adventurers on the go, caravan guards, and more.

The camp of Winter City tends to be absolutely neutral, and it does not exclude any foreign races from entering and leaving, of course, the premise is that you do not make troubles above board.

There are all kinds of residents and adventurers on the streets, with different body shapes, appearances, skin colors and colorful costumes showing the unique characteristics of each race.

The tall dragonborn walked through the crowd in a panic with heavy steps.

In the shadow of the stone house not far away, a cunning tiefling rubbed his hands, with a wicked smile on his lips, wagging his tail, and a restless look in his eyes.

A group of gnomes gathered together, laughing and celebrating the success of their efforts at a delicate wooden toy that activated itself.

The smirking ogre carried a wolf that had just hunted on its shoulders, and walked through the street with a stench all over its body, and everyone avoided it with disgust.

A goblin wizard in a gray pointed hat stood with his arms akimbo at the door, arguing loudly with a kobold warlock carrying a basket and holding a pickaxe, and a group of melon eaters gathered around and pointed.

Rough dwarves, small and nimble halflings, dusty half-elfs, and drow elves crouching in a corner with their hands folded and their legs in silence, far away from the sun...

In this bustling port city, the number of players is surprisingly small. Except for those who accidentally died halfway, most of them are concentrated in the poor and backward villages and towns in the wilderness.

This is a cruel alien world. In the bustling big city, the intrigue among the nobles, the conspiracy woven by the priests of the evil gods, the underground network of the thieves' union, the death list of the killer organization, etc. are filled in the seemingly prosperous shadow corners.

It is difficult for player forces to gain a foothold here, and most of those who stay here are struggling to survive at the bottom.

After countless lessons of blood and fire, these so-called Chosen Ones finally realized their own insignificance, and no longer competed for this limited piece of cake in the city.

Most of the player forces stay away from big cities and go to remote wilderness villages and towns to compete with those evil intelligent races for limited living space.

In the world of Toril, only there is the opportunity for these players with their own elite templates to emerge.

Natural selection, survival of the fittest.

One year after the game server was launched, it has been more than a year since all players traveled here.

Most of the people who can adapt face the reality, and those who can't adapt also drift with the tide and slowly disappear from the sight of everyone.

Some people made an ancient vow to purify the world of all evil, and some people just want to build a territory and sanctuary for the players to spend the rest of their lives in peace.

Similarly, some people can't accept this cruel reality, and hastily ended their precious lives. In order to gain powerful power, some people even choose evil sacrificial rituals and sell their souls to the devils of the abyss and hell...

Human nature... is fully displayed here.

……

Thorne muttered a sentence in his heart, and rows of light blue data suddenly appeared in his retina:

Name: Thorne

Race: Half-elf (of wood-elf descent)
Background: Farstrider

属性：体质14、力量15、敏捷20（+2）、智力12、感知17、魅力14
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Occupation: Level 10 Militia (max) / Level 4 Ranger (0/20000)

Health: 46/46
XP: 25035
Practice points: 10523
Skill Points: None
Attribute points: none
Racial Traits: Darkvision, Elven Blood, Feral Mask, Keen Senses

职业技能：潜行13、躲藏15、察觉14、翻滚15、嘲讽5、医疗7、专注11、法术辨识4、知识（自然）7、运动9、手艺（制箭）8
Occupational characteristics: Proficient in simple and military weapons, weapon specialization (long sword), weapon specialization (longbow), wild identity, animal companion

Nemesis: Humanoids (gnolls, ogres)

Class Feats: Tracking (Proficient), Durability, Two-Weapon Fighting, Survival

Common Feats: Precise Shot, Alertness, Mobility, Dodge, Quick Shot

Personal expertise: athletic, tenacious, rolling attack

Martial arts:

[Desert Wind School] lv1 (124/10000)

Red Lotus Sword (enhanced skill), Flame Star (strike skill), Fire Avoidance Art (stance skill)

[Steel Soul Pie] lv1 (36/10000)

Clear Body (Stance Skill)

Ranger Divine Art: One Ring (4/4)

Hunter's Mark, Entangle, Resist Energy Damage

Looking at his attribute bar, Thorne felt a little sad. This is the result of his two years of hard training and practice in the game.

This world is not as good as imagined. In two years, the level has only been raised to level 4, which is already at the upper level among the player groups.

Compared with those hard-working spellcaster professions, it's not very good.

Because most players who choose wizards, druids, and priests, due to the need to master a huge and complex knowledge system, most of them have not succeeded in taking office, which is real and cruel.

"It's time to settle it." Thorne sighed, looking at the dilapidated residential area in the distance.

……

Crunch!

The rotting door seemed to be a heap of useless ruins afterwards.

Thorne gently pushed it away and walked in.

Bang bang bang!
There was still the familiar knocking sound in the courtyard, and Thorne looked at a crooked figure who kept knocking on the stone.

The old man who has experienced vicissitudes of life has gray temples, and his wrinkled face is dull and dull. His withered hands are holding a hammer and a chisel to knock on the stone in front of him, emitting bursts of sparks.

But the outline of the stone is still unclear.

"Is the wine brought?" The old voice echoed in Thorn's ear.

Thorne immediately handed over the wine bag at his waist and said, "Dragon Bitter, a very special dark beer."

"Dragon Chew Bitter Wine, this special dark beer has a history of nearly a thousand years. Back then, only the Dragon Chew Brewery could make this fine wine."

The old man stopped what he was doing, and memories appeared in his cloudy eyes, but his hunched body seemed lonely.

After speaking, he took the wine bag from Thorne's hand, feeling the long-lost familiarity.

Thorne stood still, looking at the old man in front of him while drinking and reminiscing about the past.

This is a mysterious old man who holds the ancient Nine Swords inheritance from the Karatu continent.

And Thorne came to Cold Winter City half a year ago, and was fortunate to get acquainted with the old man. In the words of the other party: all this is fate!
After going through various thrilling tests, he finally got his approval.

Obtained part of the inheritance of Nine Swords.

Now, with Nine Swords, he has mastered the "Steel Soul School" and "Desert Wind School". The purpose of coming here today is to obtain the third sword technique: "Shadow Hand School".

This is the key to his double-class Kendo (Sage's Sword).

At that time, there were three basic occupations with nine swords in front of him: Zhanren (the sword of the military), Crusader (the sword of Tianzhu), and Kendo (the sword of the sage).

After deliberating for a long time, he chose the swordsman.

This class belongs to a master of martial arts skills, a mage of the sword whose knowledge of the path to the highest can unlock a variety of powerful abilities.

These abilities are supernatural in nature.

It is more suitable for his ranger profession, and both belong to a relatively versatile skill fighter.

"Take it, the road to practice is full of ups and downs, you and I are destined to meet each other, don't forget your promise!" After drinking, the old man took out a book with a black cover, handed it to Thorne, and promised two words Deliberately aggravated it a bit.

After finishing speaking, he picked up the hammer and chisel again and continued to strike aimlessly at the stone in front of him, bursting out bursts of sparks.

Thorne took the book and put it away without reading too much.

Bang bang bang!
In the dilapidated stone house courtyard, there were intermittent and dull knocking sounds again.

Thorn watched the old man's movements. After a moment of silence, he touched his chest with his left hand, bowed deeply to the old man in front of him, and then turned and left without hesitation.

To find the lost continent of Karatu in the turbulent age, this is Thorne's promise to the old man in front of him.

His life experience, name, strength, origin... Thorne didn't know anything about it, he never brought it up, and Thorne didn't want to ask.

All he knew were the three ancient sword techniques from the Eastern Kingdom that the other party had taught him.

And what he needs to do is to search for that lost empire in his lifetime, there are no restrictions, only a verbal promise, that's all.

But if Thorne is lucky enough to survive, he will definitely go there, because there is the ultimate inheritance of the Nine Swords: Nine Swords Grandmaster!

As the knocking sound gradually disappeared from Thorne's ears, Thorne's figure came to this dilapidated and busy downtown area again.

Thorne looked up at the gloomy sky and the wizard tower that was more than [-] meters high, and said to himself: I have to leave here tomorrow.

The west of Cold Winter City is facing the threat of a full-scale invasion from the depths of the Great Swordscar Mountains, and all the original residents around the city and the villages and towns established by players have suffered a devastating blow.

Since the chaotic and turbulent years, the two sides have accumulated hatred that permeates deep in the blood.

Never die!

In the two ports in the north and the south, the sahuagin of the Sea of ​​Glory are about to move. The only purpose of these devils from the deep sea is to turn Winter City into the waves of the sea.

The Black Pearl Forest in the east is a group of hobgoblins managed in a militarized manner. The ambitious hobgoblins have long forgotten how they lived under the fence of others and managed to survive.

They despicably tore up the covenant with Winter City, thinking about turning the bustling Winter City into their Shura field all the time!
The precarious Winter City.

Can those nobles in the upper city really resist it?

Thorn doesn't know, he only knows that before the city falls completely...
Leave quickly.

(End of this chapter)