It wasn’t until Ryan returned to the inn that he finally managed to calm his nerves. Now with a fresh batch of Auxiliary Talent Points in hand, the excitent still humd through his veins.
He had kept a straight face earlier, playing it cool, but inside? He was practically electrified.
This ti, the Glorious Achievent reward had been incredibly generous—far more than anything he rembered from his previous life. That alone told him sothing had changed. Sothing big.
Just reading the achievent’s description made it obvious how difficult it was to earn. And that’s when it hit him: in his past life, there must have been countless Glorious Achievents just like this—hidden, missable, and completely overlooked. Back then, players were too busy rushing forward to notice. Too distracted to realize what they were passing up.
A sense of urgency surged inside him. He wouldn’t make the sa mistake twice.
From now on, he’d chase down every Glorious Achievent. Especially the ones you only had one shot at—those rare, missable rewards that could reshape the future.
Outside, the vibrant, buzzing streets of Astral City helped steady his heart. The adrenaline was still there, simring under the surface, but he could breathe again. As usual, he made his way to Anarid—the Wandering rchant—to see if anything worthwhile had shown up.
Maybe it was just coincidence. Or maybe the Achievent really had brought him a streak of luck.
Aside from a Swiftness Potion, the gear at Anarid’s stall was all common-grade—and oddly, all high-level. That kind of gear would be worthless by the ti players even reached those levels. Vendor trash, basically.
There were herbs and ores too, so of them decent quality. But not nearly enough in quantity to be worth much.
And then Ryan spotted sothing that made his breath hitch.
Right at the top of the inventory list, gleaming like a beacon: a green-quality cooking recipe: Savory Deviate Delight.
He blinked, almost not believing it.
This recipe was exclusive to the Dark Horde faction—and in the early ga, it was worth its weight in gold on the Alliance of Light side. The recipe and its ingredients were locked behind enemy territory. Any Alliance player who dared to venture there would be mobbed in seconds.
The ingredients themselves weren’t rare. In fact, Ryan already had plenty of them stored in his bank. But the recipe? Nearly impossible to get without taking extre risks.
Without a second thought, Ryan snapped it up.
He’d heard rumors in his past life that the Wandering rchant’s inventory was completely random—capable of stocking any world-drop item, even rare purple bind-on-equip gear. Seeing Savory Deviate Delight here seed to confirm that rumor.
The rest of the stall was filled with the usual: common recipes, herbs, ores. He grabbed a few materials he needed, then made his way back to Stormhold Fortress.
By the ti he arrived, Mia had already logged off after a quick goodbye, saying she needed rest. Ryan didn’t mind. He wasn’t in a rush to turn in his quests anyway.
A steady stream of resources was already flowing into his mailbox, just as planned.
This was the payoff of an aggressive strategy he’d launched earlier—leveraging his vast wealth from his past life to manipulate the market using Trading Dummies. He’d flooded the stalls with buy orders, offering premium prices on basic goods.
Human rchants were in a frenzy, scrambling to figure out who was throwing the market into chaos. anwhile, gathering players were singing his praises.
Despite purchasing huge volus of copper ore, Crude Stones, low-level herbs, and cloth, the entire operation had cost him less than a thousand Gold. The sudden injection of capital caused a ripple in the human economy—but thanks to the player population’s sheer size, things stabilized quickly.
Selecting a batch of Crude Stones from his overflowing mailbox, Ryan made his way to the industrial district of Stormhold Fortress. The area was buzzing with players hamring at anvils, ores clinking into slters, and NPCs shouting over the roar of the furnaces.
Here, the Blacksmithing and Mining trainers were stationed, along with everything needed to process materials—furnaces for slting ore, anvils for forging gear, and workbenches packed with half-finished tools.
Ryan wasn’t here to waste ti.
Early-ga Blacksmithing allowed him to craft basic mail and plate armor—perfect for his class—and he intended to max out his proficiency as fast as possible.
He started with Crude Sharpening Stones. Each one granted anywhere from 1% to 3% proficiency toward the next skill point. Once a recipe reached 100% proficiency, it would guarantee a single point in that profession.
At the mont, the Crude Sharpening Stone recipe showed a red indicator, aning the gains were still at full value—every 100% completion would net a skill-up. And in the early stages, Blacksmithing was absurdly easy to level. Just one Crude Sharpening Stone could bump his skill up by 20 points before the indicator turned yellow and the efficiency started to drop.
So, Ryan set his character to auto-craft 1,000 Crude Sharpening Stones.
Then he opened a new tab and headed straight to the forums.
Unsurprisingly, the human faction had beco the target of widespread criticism. Players from every other race were piling on with mockery, accusations, and not-so-subtle salt.
Human players, in turn, responded in kind. The forum had turned into a full-blown warzone.
And the cause of the outrage? The nonstop stream of Glorious Achievents pouring in from the human faction.
First player to clear the beginner dungeon? Human.
First player to complete an official dungeon? Also human.
The other factions were fuming. So claid that human content was secretly easier. Others speculated that human racial talents were too overpowered. Either way, the envy was loud, and the argunts louder.
Among the noise, Ryan spotted a familiar thread—heated back-and-forth between Blackcollar Studio and a group of angry players. These were no ordinary users; they had serious connections, the type of players used to throwing their weight around.
They were the sa ones who had followed Evelyn’s dungeon-clearing guide—specifically exiting after clearing the upper level, then trying to re-enter for the lower level, only to still find themselves at a dead end.
They were furious. And because they couldn’t lash out at the ga system, they turned their frustration on Blackcollar Studio.
Under pressure, the studio kept issuing public apologies—each one only making them look weaker and more humiliated.
Ryan felt his mood sour.
He’d already heard that Evelyn had posted the dungeon guide video without charging a di. She’d just wanted to help. And they had cleared it together, hadn’t they?
So when these sa players insulted her, they were insulting him too.
What grated on him even more was the realization that Evelyn hadn’t co to him for help, despite clearly needing it. She had chosen to take the heat alone, quietly, without dragging him into the ss.
The gesture hit him harder than he expected.
His opinion of her—already favorable—rose even further.
Seeing the continued attacks, Ryan decided he wasn’t going to sit quietly anymore. Not this ti.
Not long after, a new thread appeared at the top of the forums, gleaming in bold font and marked sticky:
"What Kind of Hero Bullies a Woman? Even If I Told You, Would You Dare to Buy It?"
Posted by: Featherlight
The na alone ensured the post would get attention. His threads always did.
This one, however, was special.
It was a paid post.
The purchase requirent?
Level 10 account minimum.
The price?
10,000 Gold.
Inside the post, Ryan publicly listed the player IDs of several users who had insulted Evelyn, openly mocking them with arrogant jabs. But he didn’t stop there.
The post was ti-locked: for one hour, only paying readers could access its contents. After that, the full text would be visible to everyone, free.
The ssage itself was as bold as it was biting:
"I ask you—what kind of hero bullies a woman? If you’ve got the guts, buy this post. Inside is the correct thod to enter the lower dungeon levels.
Or are you only brave enough to insult the weak, but too cheap to pay for answers?
Oh—and don’t worry, I’m not keeping the money. Every coin goes to the World Disease Prevention Center.
So go ahead. I dare you. Buy it."
At the bottom, in red-highlighted text, a final sarcastic line flashed across the screen:
"If you’re so tough, why not put your money where your mouth is?"
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