Volume 10 Bugs Chapter 55: Probably a Shemale
Compared to the Jedi counterattack in the first battle, my second battle was really bland and unremarkable. After the undead lich and evil spirit, the second opponent I faced was a blue-skinned and fanged troll swordsman. His name was "I am ugly but I am durable", which I think is a fairly objective evaluation of himself. His ugly appearance is obvious at a glance, and the word "durable" also accurately summarizes the very distinctive and evil bloodline characteristics of the troll race, which many people envy in their hearts - to be honest, at least I envy it very much.
What? You want to know what kind of characteristic this is? Of course, it is the "fast healing" racial characteristic that the trolls have. This enviable racial characteristic allows them to recover their lost vitality at a rate equivalent to 1.2 times that of other races, which allows them to last longer than others in some fierce battles - hey, I really mean this, what do you think I'm talking about? Why are you showing such a strange smirk?
You know, some people's thoughts are always led to some strange directions by one or two words, which is really puzzling...
Before becoming my opponent, the troll swordsman had obviously just experienced a very difficult life. His equipment was the shabbiest among all the people present. At least half of them were too badly damaged, resulting in different degrees of weakening of various additional attributes, and the level of the other half was obviously lower than his current level. It was obvious at a glance that they were emergency equipment that was temporarily pieced together after the original equipment was damaged. I simply couldn't bear to guess how many battles he had lost to wear out his equipment into its current state. When I first saw this tattered guy climbing onto the ring, I even thought he had just been trampled by a thousand bison. But after careful observation, I soon realized how serious my idea was:
He was stepped on at least twice!
Originally, the swordsman profession has always been restrained by the warrior - for a long time, their image of "mage killer" has been deeply rooted in people's minds. Many of their resistance talents can produce extremely high immunity to magic, but their ability to protect against physical damage has always been weak. The warrior's strong shield and heavy armor can effectively reduce the huge threat of their two-handed weapon specialization - not to mention that the guy in front of me is now so poor that he only has two two-handed daggers of more than 30 levels for survival.
I am not interested in retelling this boring battle. Two warriors holding sharp blades stood in the center of the ring and hacked at each other frantically. There was no skill, no wisdom, only brutal collision of limbs and ugly splashing of life... This was purely a gamble of strength and blood. The battle was simplified into a series of cold numbers, and these numbers added up to a weight that kept changing its weight. Every change would tip the balance of victory in favor of the side.
Although I had lost nearly half of my vitality in the previous battle, I still won the battle without any danger in this completely asymmetrical battle, becoming the first fighter to win two consecutive victories so far. The name of the Troll Swordsman, which was full of racial pride, did not help him at all - I finished the battle in less than a minute, and this weak one-minute man did not show any "persistence" to me from beginning to end.
After defeating the Troll Swordsman, I finally met the last member of the opponent's team: their captain - who was also their guild master, a fifty-three-year-old Undead Warrior, an ascetic who had spent his life in endless suffering and torment, and a fighter of destiny who was reborn with his unyielding courage: Funeral March.
I couldn't take my eyes off his head. At this moment, the name of the cruel guild was hanging high above his head, which made us feel sad again about the rough experiences he had in his life: he was chased by wild dogs at level 5, was cheated when selling point cards at level 10, was wiped out in a dungeon at level 15, had an online romance with a transvestite at level 20, was hacked by a Trojan at level 25, became a black hand at level 30, was guarded by someone using a cheat at level 35, and was banned at level 40 just after learning how to use a cheat...
In fact, most of his previous life experiences, such as hacking, hacking, and Trojans, are beyond my comprehension, but this does not prevent me from feeling his sad and mournful mental journey through the profound and mysterious text area. In fact, this is very normal. The pain that everyone encounters in their own lives is often incomprehensible to others, but we cannot deny that this pain torments a soul. The most sad thing is that I am sure that any of these tragic experiences that happened to a person would be a tragedy in the world, but now they all hit this guy's head with an incredible frequency, and the probability is even lower than the probability of a person being hit by a meteorite twice in his life. When this rare and small probability happens to a person, it is even difficult to judge whether it is a misfortune or a great fortune...
"You seem to have left both women at the end." The voice of the funeral march was not as gloomy as I had imagined. In fact, his voice was quite gentle and pleasant, without a trace of hostility, as if we were not irreconcilable enemies, but very friendly friends.
"When it comes to rough things like fighting, ladies always have to be taken care of," I explained with a shrug.
"Yes, yes, it's gentlemanly, but..." Funeral March nodded repeatedly, then tilted his head to look at the two ladies in the audience for a moment, and squeezed out a strange expression of lingering fear on his face - not that his expression was strange, but because... you know, a skull with rotten flesh and bones can accurately make me feel his "lingering fear" at this time, which is a very strange thing in itself - he tentatively asked in a low voice: "...Are they all transsexuals?"
Shemale? What is that?
I have heard this confusing word from many people, but I have never understood the exact meaning of this word. From the tone and attitude of others, it seems to be a specific noun with a certain derogatory meaning, as if accusing someone of unbearable immoral behavior.
In my opinion, our miser president, whose life pursuit is to amass huge wealth, whose life goal is to exploit the labor of others and whose life pleasure is to collect high-interest debts, is closely related to many immoral behaviors - shh, don't tell others - so I feel that the possibility that she is a "shemale" is quite high.
Although I would like to confirm the funeral march's guess, Feiyin is, after all, a companion who fought alongside me. The sincere friendship in my heart does not allow me to join strangers from the enemy camp in using insulting words to denigrate her personality and character - especially when she was looking at us right in her own eyes - so I wisely chose to remain silent.
"Nonsense!" I can remain silent about such a malicious speculation, but Feiyin, as the person involved, cannot. Our president couldn't help but shout loudly under the stage. Judging from her flushed face and violently heaving chest, she seemed to be quite angry at the moment - of course, I would never encourage you to think that this is a manifestation of anger after the truth was exposed.
"You are blind! How could a beautiful, gentle, virtuous, kind-hearted, and graceful girl like me be a shemale?!" Miss Feiyin waved the magic wand in her hand vigorously, staring at the funeral march on the ring with wide eyes, shouting hysterically, as if she couldn't wait to rush onto the ring and smash him into a meat paste - oh, sorry, I mean bone powder.
I really don't see how her ferocious and aggressive posture at this moment has anything to do with the beautiful and graceful words such as "gentle, virtuous, graceful and charming", so it is obvious that: it seems that our president must be a transvestite...
My opponent was obviously not as smart as me. He did not even notice the obvious contradiction in Feiyin's words and just blindly believed her self-defense. I had long suspected that it was impossible for the undead whose brains had been completely corroded to have no effect at all on their intelligence.
"It doesn't sound like the sound synthesized by an audio synthesizer..." He tilted his ear - I mean he tilted the hole where his ear originally grew - listened carefully to Feiyin's words, and then nodded slightly, "...It seems that you are really women. We are so lucky. If this is the case, then we still have a chance to win."
He was fooled - I thought with glee - anyone who knows our respected president knows that when this cunning woman swears to something, she must not be telling the truth - this also proves from another aspect that our president must be a shemale - although I really don't know what a shemale is...
As the last member of the opposing team to fight, he was facing successive challenges from three opponents of the same level, including an ice mage who was recognized as the "nemesis of warriors". In the face of such a cold and cruel reality, he was still dreaming of turning defeat into victory. I can only think that the guy standing in front of me is a hopeless utopian optimist who is terminally ill. His positive yearning for a better destiny has reached the point where he can have hallucinations anytime and anywhere - I dare to assert that this is definitely a sequelae of the inhumane fate he has encountered - for this I can only express my sincere sympathy.
"What did you say? How dare you look down on me!" Miss Feiyin, who felt deeply despised, was extremely angry. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing two thin arms as thin as reed sticks. She put one hand on her waist and pointed at the funeral march on the stage with the other, and shouted fiercely: "You little bastard, you won't be arrogant for much longer! Wait and see how I will teach you a lesson when I go on stage in person! I will make you chew up every word you just said and swallow it back..."
As a teammate who is standing on the ring ready to face the next challenge, listening to my captain shouting in the audience "I will be on the stage myself in a while" and so on, it is really difficult for me to hear a trace of encouragement and blessing from her words - if you are lying on a hospital bed and feel that you still have a chance to be rescued, and suddenly hear your good friend with a gloomy face and a low voice say to you "Go with peace of mind, we will avenge you", I am afraid you will feel the same as I do now - believe me, this feeling is not good, you will never want to try it a second time - of course, if you still have the opportunity to try it a second time.
I was really saddened by the president's distrust of me, and what made me even sadder was that her disregard for me... well... was not without reason - it was really a matter of self-esteem. The battle between me and the funeral march began quickly... and then... it seemed to end even faster than it began. I had hoped that this undead warrior with a rotten brain might have reduced his combat ability due to the adverse effects of intelligence and spirit, but the facts that happened afterwards made me deeply realize my mistake: five encounters, only five encounters, and I fell tragically under his repeated heavy blows with less than one-tenth of my health left.
Seeing that I was finally knocked off the stage, our long-prepared female ice mage immediately jumped onto the stage impatiently. The blue gem on the top of the staff in her hand flashed a cold light, and a circle of water-blue halo flashed in her hand eagerly, as if it could explode at any time and freeze the enemy in front of her into an ugly white bone ice sculpture.
However, dear President, I understand your eagerness for revenge, but you don't have to act happier than my opponent after seeing me fail...
Although the Undead Warrior Funeral March had once boasted that he would reverse the situation by fighting one against three, he did not show any fighting power that matched his strength after the battle with Feiyin began. From the very beginning of the fight with Feiyin, he bravely rushed towards the enemy in front of him wearing a heavy metal armor, and then, as expected, he was frozen into a pair of real "popsicles" by a large "ice storm". When the ice wrapped around his body finally thawed, he had been hit hard by two ice spears and an ice spike. The biting cold instantly froze his exposed skeleton into a bright blue-purple color. The cold magic power froze his joints, making it difficult for him to walk. His movements were as stiff as a stiff corpse - of course, he was actually a corpse in the beginning - and every move was much slower than usual. Although the stone slabs on the surface of the arena were very flat, every step he took was a difficult trek. The short distance of a dozen steps was even more difficult for him than wading through a swamp.
Compared to the difficult situation of the funeral march, our president is enjoying a good time. Because she is facing the last opponent, Feiyin does not have to worry about the remaining magic power. She skillfully wields her staff, squandering her magic with a rare generosity, and keeps throwing magic beams containing cold power at the opponent's head one after another. Compared with the lethality of attack magic, the freezing effect attached to the ice and snow spell is her most powerful weapon. The opponent's slow pace allows her to perfectly control the distance between the enemy and us. Even if she is wearing a bloated magic robe, she can escape from the opponent's pursuit calmly after throwing a spell, and accumulate more magic power after pulling away enough distance, and recast a more powerful spell.
Before long, Funeral March's health was reduced to less than half under Feiyin's bombardment, while Feiyin did not receive any damage. Even so, this tenacious skeleton monster did not give up hope. He approached step by step with great difficulty and finally forced his opponent to the edge of the ring. Just as he raised the sword in his hand to avenge the previous humiliation, a huge ice bomb hit his face with a "bang", and then a layer of water-blue halo rippled with the explosion of the ice bomb, wrapping his bony body layer by layer, forming a huge transparent ice ball. The poor skeleton warrior was unable to move, and his posture was immediately frozen in this heroic and helpless moment.
Almost at the same moment, the space in front of Feiyin suddenly distorted, and her body suddenly disappeared from the edge of the ring, and then suddenly appeared in the center of the ring behind the funeral march.
With a "freeze" spell and a "teleport" spell, the ice mage easily escaped from the predicament.
"Ahahahaha..." Our president couldn't help but laugh triumphantly as she squinted at her opponent who was unable to move in the ice. Her laughter was as sharp and shrill as a wild storm squeezing through a narrow rock gap, and we couldn't help but get goose bumps all over our bodies when we heard it.
"Aren't you very arrogant..." Fei Yin smiled evilly with hatred and threw an ice arrow at her opponent's butt.
"... and you said you would fight three of us alone..." Another ice arrow flew out, exploding into a snowflake on the back of the Undead Warrior's head.
"...The most unforgivable thing is that you actually dared to slander your aunt, a beautiful, dignified and lovely girl like me, as a shemale..." In response, a sharp ice spear flew up and pierced through the frozen funeral march in an instant - it seems that our president really hates the word "shemale" to his core.
"...Look, I'm going to tear your two ribs into eighteen pieces..." After finally waiting for the freezing spell to melt, the unlucky Funeral March just turned around and was hit in the face by an oversized "Snow Explosion Spell"...
As Feiyin's attack spells fell on the opponent's head like a blizzard, Funeral March's health was quickly destroyed to a heart-wrenching level. This one-sided situation of the strong bullying the weak even made me begin to sympathize with our opponents: the Undead Warrior was already shaky on the ring, and one could not help but worry that a maggot that feeds on rotten flesh would kill him with just a bite.
Judging from the current situation, no matter how hard the funeral march struggles, it can no longer escape the humiliating fate of total defeat. However, just when we thought we had already won, the funeral march suddenly looked gloomy - please forgive me, you can only imagine how a face with only a pile of bones left "looks gloomy", this is really a supernatural event beyond my language ability, but it really happened unbelievably - his face gloomy, his expression serious, he said something very, very inappropriate:
"Surrender, witch, it's not too late for you to surrender now..."
