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【I Love Survival Game: He didn’t bring a Teleportation Scroll?】 

Qiyu fell silent. 

He remembered emphasizing that, just to be safe, it was best to bring a teleportation scroll. Now, he was actually a bit curious about “My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens.” experience.

Just like his own experience in Gold Hole City, even if he’d been a bit less cautious, no one would have been bored enough to kidnap him.

The Royal City of Ophelia was an exception, but that was because he’d unleashed a dragon on Dan Xingyu, which attracted so many powerful warriors. What was the deal with “My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens”?

Did he let a dragon loose, too?

【Reaching for the Moon in the Heavens: He probably didn’t bring one.】 

She wasn’t entirely clear on the specifics either. For someone like him who values his pride so much, saying “I was kidnapped” was probably already pushing it.

For him to recount the details of his kidnapping to others—especially these people, whom he considers his “subordinates” or “possessions”—would likely be more agonizing than death itself.

But judging by the look on his face, one can guess that his current situation is indeed not looking very promising.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” was locked in a dark underground room, frantically sending messages in a small group chat using the survival panel.

【My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens: Where’s the teleportation scroll? Haven’t you bought it yet?】

【Hundred Demons Retrograde: Boss, this item is really rare. You don’t even have it—how could an average player possibly get their hands on it?】

【Hundred Demons Retrograde: How about you ask on the zone channel?】 

Bunch of good-for-nothings!

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” gritted his teeth. He’d been stuck here for a whole day—and for what? 

Wasn’t it just because he didn’t want to go to the zone channel and make a fool of himself? 

If he went to the zone chat to buy a teleportation scroll, anyone with this item definitely wouldn’t sell it to him. Plus, there was the risk of exposing his own situation.

Unless he tells the truth: if people really found out that he went out exploring and got kidnapped by the natives, would he even want to live anymore? 

The wounds on his body throbbed with excruciating pain. He had healing potions right in his backpack, but he curled up in a ball, gritting his teeth, too afraid to take them out.

Let’s rewind to this morning.

He followed that drunkard all the way until they reached a large, domed building.

It was a tavern.

It was completely unexpected—in such a desolate, run-down little town, there was actually a tavern this big.

It was broad daylight, yet the tavern was packed with people—men and women—clinking glasses and laughing wildly. And for some reason, all four windows were shut, leaving the room dimly lit, which made the scene look almost like a wild dance of demons.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” felt a sudden, inexplicable panic and instinctively tried to back away. But it was already too late.

Those men and women, lost in their revelry, were like starving wolves that had caught the scent of prey. In unison, they whipped their heads around and fixed their gaze on him. His collar was grabbed, and his whole body was lifted off the ground.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” was horrified: it was that drunkard who looked completely intoxicated! Where did he get such strength? He immediately tried to break free, only to discover that the hand was as hard as steel, clamping down on him with an iron grip.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” he gritted his teeth. The long knife was instantly in his hand; he raised it and slashed viciously at his body.

“Oh?”

He missed completely.

A searing pain shot from his feet up to his waist—he even thought he heard his own bones groaning in agony. He was kicked flying and slammed into a large table.

Cups, plates, and bowls crashed to the floor with a clatter.

How could “My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” have ever experienced such excruciating pain? For a moment, he was completely dazed; his mind went blank, and he couldn’t react to anything, just curling up in a ball and breaking out in a cold sweat. 

The drunkard held his knife in one hand, examining it closely.

“Nice knife,” he grinned. “It’s a waste to have it in the hands of a good-for-nothing like you.” 

He glanced around the room, meeting the covetous stares, and chuckled darkly, his warning laced with a threat: “I brought this fat sheep here, and I’m taking this knife as my reward—that’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“This sucker says he’s from the Star Forest.” He threw out another bait. “You’ve probably heard the rumors going around lately—he’s definitely got some good stuff on him.”

If it weren’t for that, he probably wouldn’t have survived this long. 

As soon as the words “Star Forest” were uttered, the entire room immediately buzzed with excitement.

The legendary home of the elves.

Last month, a small trading guild called the Borg Chamber of Commerce catapulted itself into the ranks of the Ora Empire’s new elite by auctioning off items from the “Star Forest.”

A bearded dwarf jumped out, nudged “My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” with the tip of his foot, causing him to roll over. Upon seeing his appearance, the dwarf looked suspicious: “Aren’t the Star Forest supposed to be inhabited by elves? This doesn’t look like an elf at all.” 

“Drunkard, you really aren’t just spouting nonsense for the sake of that knife, are you?” 

My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens, finally snapped out of the excruciating pain. These people really do know about the Star Forest.

Elves? What elves?

And what about those recent rumors?

Was this all caused by the I Love Survival Game? What exactly did he do?

He heard the drunkard say, “Why would I lie to you? You just saw his knife appear out of thin air, right? But I just searched him—this kid doesn’t have any storage items on him.”

“He’s pretty strange.”

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” was just about to pull a healing potion out of his backpack when that remark scared him so much he froze in place. 

Then he was… stripped naked. 

So many people were staring at him, but their gazes treated him as if he were a piece of pork on a cutting board. The desire in their eyes was… the thought of how to use a knife to cut off the most satisfying piece.

He didn’t even have time to feel ashamed or indignant—all that remained was sheer terror.

“No storage items, as expected,” the bearded dwarf kicked him and said in a gruff voice. “Kid, where did you pull that knife from just now—spill the beans.”

“And are you really from the Star Forest?”

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens”—he’d never experienced anything like this before. Gritting his teeth, he shifted slightly, picked up his clothes, and threw them on, only then feeling somewhat more at ease.

“You’re quite the dandy,” the dwarf roared with laughter.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” frantically racked his not-so-sharp brain; he’d already realized he’d probably screwed up.

With so many people here, who knows how many martial artists are among them. 

And even setting all these people aside, he couldn’t beat that drunkard from just a moment ago.

The good news, though, was that these locals clearly couldn’t see his Survival Panel, so naturally they wouldn’t be able to search his backpack either.

That put his mind at ease, at least a little.

“I do come from the Star Forest, but I don’t know anything about these ‘elves’ you’re talking about.”

He quickly added, “I’m a minor lord from the Star Forest, and I came out here just to see the world.”

He didn’t dare admit that he’d actually come out to sell items.

This was clearly a bandit hideout.

“A minor lord?” the dwarf roared with laughter. “Well then, Lord, where are the good items you’re hiding on you? Hand them over!”

In just three words, his tone had turned fiercely menacing. His aura was terrifying.

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” regretted it once again in my heart. I shouldn’t have ignored the teachings of “I Love Survival Game.” He should have found a way to get a teleportation scroll before venturing out to explore again.

Who could have imagined such bad luck—ending up in such a terrifying place right off the bat? He tentatively said, “No, I only brought this knife with me…” A sharp pain shot through his head as the dwarf’s palm, as wide as a fan, slapped him.

He snarled, “No good stuff?”

A soft, effeminate voice drifted from the crowd: “If he doesn’t have anything good, he’s worthless. Kill him and toss him out to the dogs.” 

“I do! I do!”

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens,” I shouted. “I’m not hiding anything—I have a mysterious item on me that my family left me. But each time I can only bring out one item at a time!”

“I already took out that knife just now. The rest can only be taken out after an hour has passed!”

No sooner had he finished speaking than he was beaten mercilessly.

He was too exhausted from the pain to respond; as he was tortured into a daze, he rambled and said all sorts of things. When he came to his senses, his face was deathly pale, yet the expressions on those people’s faces seemed off.

Much of what he had said seemed to have been “blocked.”

Is this the doing of the survival game?

Just as the natives couldn’t see the survival panel or find the players’ backpacks, they were unable to hear anything related to the “survival game.”

He was locked in a dark underground chamber.

After being beaten several times, he finally started using his head and realized he was definitely being watched; he wouldn’t dare to casually take anything out of his backpack.

Especially healing potions—if those people saw his wounds heal, he’d be tortured all over again. He had no choice but to use the survival panel to contact the people in his small group, hoping to buy a teleportation scroll. However, in reality…

A group of players who’d been blocked by the number one player in Server 01—how many of them could possibly have anything worthwhile?

Not to mention they weren’t exactly eager to help him in the first place; even if they were sincere, players from Server 01 wouldn’t want anything to do with them. 

He was held captive until nightfall. Every hour, someone would come down and take an item from him.

Potions, items, gear… 

If the quality didn’t satisfy them, he’d get another beating. He really couldn’t take it anymore.

Everyone in the group is a loser.

The belief that had been keeping him going—that My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens—was the 24-hour time limit on the random region teleportation scrolls. When he arrived, a white teleportation portal had suddenly opened in the territory.

So, once the 24 hours were up, could he use the same method to return? 

Twenty-four hours—he could just tough it out until it was over.

That’s what he had originally thought.

But those bandits were truly insatiable.

Every hour, he had to hand over some good loot, and their demands kept getting higher and higher.

If anything didn’t go their way, they’d kick him a couple of times just for fun.

He knew exactly what was at stake: that group of people—no, they weren’t even human anymore—those demons didn’t care about his life at all. The only reason he was still alive was that he “could produce something valuable.”

Those people didn’t believe him at all.

It’s just that they were too arrogant—no one thought he could escape, so they took their time, waiting for him to cough up the “good stuff” bit by bit. There were still more than a dozen hours until tomorrow morning.

This won’t do.

If this goes on for another dozen rounds, even if he manages to make it back successfully tomorrow morning, his losses will be enormous. And he’ll have suffered just as much. 

“My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” gritted his teeth and opened the zone chat channel:

【My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens: Buying teleportation scrolls for a hefty sum.】

At this hour, the zone chat was usually at its liveliest. 

But after “My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens” posted this, not a single player with a teleportation scroll responded. Not even “Cockroach Taste Is So Weird,” that famous troll, was around. 

Everyone seemed to have tacitly ignored the post. 

My Fate is Determined By Me, Not The Heavens: …

Perhaps getting beaten up had actually cleared his head; he clearly finally realized something. To put it slightly dramatically, he had been ostracized by the entire regional channel.