002 Nice Guy

Back in the good old days of Lost Legends Online, I had my fair share of dealing with annoying SOBs.

From NPCs designed to be canon fodder with an attitude problem to Players who treated trolling like a sacred calling, I had seen—and tolerated—it all. The kind of people who blocked doorways in dungeons just to waste your time, deliberately trained mobs onto your party, or, my personal favorite, spammed trade requests in the middle of a boss fight.

So, the question was, how should I deal with this situation?

The answer? Smartly.

See, I was a Nice Guy. Not the kind who expected rewards for basic decency, but the kind who knew when to keep his cool and not antagonize idiots. The Young Master Zhao standing before me? He was clearly one of those "I’m rich, therefore I’m important" types.

Also, he was very, very drunk.

“Do you have rocks for eyes, peasant?!” Zhao slurred, his face twisting in exaggerated outrage. “Or maybe your mother dropped you on your head as a child?! That would explain a lot, hahaha!”

His courtesans giggled from the balcony above, fanning themselves dramatically, as if watching a theater performance.

“Maybe he’s mute?” one of them teased.

Zhao gasped, as if struck by divine revelation. “Ohhhh, that makes so much sense! A dumb, mute, blind beggar who dares walk into my inn?!” He jabbed a finger at my chest, missing by a few inches because his depth perception was long gone. “What, you think just ‘cause you wear fancy robes, you’re better than me?!”

I blinked. Technically, I wasn’t even wearing my best gear right now.

He leaned in, breath reeking of stale wine. “You should be licking the dirt off my boots for the privilege of breathing the same air as me!”

Oh, this guy was a textbook case.

Still, I remained cool as a cucumber, my expression perfectly poker-faced.

I’d dealt with worse in-game chat. This was nothing compared to the time some level 3 newbie screamed at me in all caps for ninjalooting a sword I didn’t even pick up.

No need to stoop to Zhao’s level.

No need to lose my temper.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t already calculating my next move.

Young Master Zhao was really going for it now.

“You useless, brainless, lowborn slug!” he spat, wobbling slightly as he pointed at me. “Do you even understand who you’re speaking to?! I could have you dragged through the streets like a dog and no one would bat an eye! In fact—” he hiccupped, nearly tipping over before catching himself on a nearby table—“I should have you whipped! No—flogged! Publicly! Maybe then you’ll learn some respect!”

I resisted the urge to sigh. Lost Legends Online had prepared me well for situations like these. Dealing with drunken noble NPCs was practically a side quest category of its own.

Still, as I stood there, I couldn’t help but notice something odd—the fact that I understood every single word he was saying.

The language these people spoke wasn’t Mandarin, but it was close—like a dialect from some parallel version of China. A strange, magical understanding let me comprehend and even respond fluently, as if I had spoken it all my life. Probably the same magic that ensured I wouldn’t sound like a babbling fool when I eventually needed to read something.

I pushed the idle thought to the back of my mind. Bigger priorities right now.

Young Master Zhao was still ranting, his words growing less coherent with each passing second. His face had taken on a distinct reddish hue, his breath practically flammable from all the alcohol.

It was time to wrap this up before he did something stupid.

I let my expression soften into something reassuring yet unreadable. Then, in a voice just friendly enough to throw him off, I dipped my head slightly.

“My sincerest apologies, Young Master Zhao,” I said. “It was never my intention to offend you.”

The moment those words left my mouth, the table of bystanders who had been waiting for a fight visibly deflated. The courtesans watching from above tilted their heads in confusion. Zhao himself blinked, momentarily thrown off by the lack of resistance.

I wasn’t groveling. I wasn’t defying him either. Just a well-placed, neutral apology—calm, measured, and frustratingly difficult to escalate.

I took a subtle step forward, positioning myself within reach.

Then, with perfectly casual body language, I placed a hand on Zhao’s shoulder, my grip light but deliberate. “It seems the wine has been unkind to you, Young Master,” I lamented, shaking my head as if I were genuinely concerned. “Perhaps you should rest. It wouldn’t do to exhaust yourself before the festival tomorrow.”

As I spoke, I pulled him in slightly, like a friendly gesture between acquaintances. And while doing so, I activated one of my less favored skills—

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Divine Word: Rest.

It wasn’t a flashy move. It wasn’t even a spell I used often. The Divine Word skill series was typically associated with priests and monks, and while Paladins had access to it, I had always focused more on combat abilities.

Still, I knew enough.

A faint golden light shimmered for half a second before fading, unnoticed by the already intoxicated Zhao. His eyelids drooped. His posture slumped. And then—

Thud.

He crumpled to his knees, eyes rolling back as he fell completely unconscious.

The round man—who I assumed was his steward—rushed forward in a panic. “Young Master Zhao!”

I reached out, grabbing Zhao by the arm before he could hit the floor face-first, and carefully handed him over to his steward. “The Young Master may have had too much to drink,” I said helpfully. “Best to get him to a proper bed.”

The steward stared at me, uncertain, before quickly nodding. “Y-Yes! Of course! Many thanks, honored guest!”

And just like that, the situation resolved itself—without a fight, without unnecessary drama, and most importantly, without me making an enemy of some drunk noble idiot with a fragile ego.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

I stepped out of the inn, inhaling deeply as the cool night air replaced the stench of stale ale and self-important entitlement.

Barely a day in this world, and I had already gotten into a confrontation. Was this a record? If this world followed Lost Legends Online logic, then I was probably halfway to triggering a major questline already.

Still, I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. There was no use dwelling on it. Young Master Zhao was dealt with, and I had more pressing matters to focus on—like figuring out how to survive in this unfamiliar world.

With that in mind, I began to stroll through the city, taking in my surroundings.

A CITY ON THE CUSP OF CELEBRATION.

Despite the late hour, the city was far from asleep. People bustled about, their energy subdued but still present, like embers glowing softly in the dark. I could tell they were preparing for tomorrow’s festival, working tirelessly even as exhaustion weighed on their shoulders.

The streets were lined with banners of deep gold and crimson, embroidered with swirling calligraphy I recognized but couldn’t quite decipher—likely blessings for prosperity and fortune. Long silk streamers fluttered lazily in the breeze, some strung with small lanterns, casting a soft glow along the roads.

Vendors and craftsmen worked late into the night, setting up stalls and booths in preparation for the crowds that would flood the streets tomorrow. Some adjusted wooden signboards, their inked characters bold and confident, while others carefully arranged colorful trinkets, incense, and embroidered fabrics to entice festival-goers.

From a nearby alley, I overheard a grizzled merchant haggling with a carpenter over the price of a makeshift stall.

“I don’t care if you used the finest lumber from the Western Province, Old Liu! This thing still wobbles!”

“Hah! Wobbles, my foot! That’s just the wind! My craftsmanship is flawless, I tell you! You want to sell your sugar figurines tomorrow or not? Pay up!”

Further ahead, a group of women, possibly tea house workers or performers, whispered among themselves excitedly.

“I heard the governor himself will attend the festival this year!”

“Really? And they say Young Master Lu of the Seven Grand Clans will be there, too!”

“Oh, imagine if we catch his eye…”

A group of children, clearly past their bedtime, ran past me, waving small wooden swords and pretending to be great heroes.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to the dueling stage!” one of them announced proudly. “I bet the warriors will be so strong!”

“I heard a single strike from a top-tier cultivator can split the ground open!” another added, swinging his toy sword dramatically.

I smirked slightly. Kids and their wild imaginations.

Still, the more I listened, the more pieces of this world fell into place. It was a city alive with purpose, steeped in tradition, and filled with excitement for the days to come.

Tomorrow would be a big day.

For the city.

And for me.

I stood at the highest point of Yellow Dragon City, overlooking the countless motes of light scattered below like stars fallen to earth. Lanterns flickered gently in the breeze, lining the winding streets where merchants and craftsmen still toiled in preparation for tomorrow’s festival. From here, the city seemed serene, as if all the noise and chaos were just distant echoes carried by the wind.

It was a hell of a view.

But I wasn’t up here to admire the scenery.

I still had no idea how to exchange my gold for this world’s local currency. But at least I didn’t need food or sleep. That was one of the perks of being Level 275—the max level in Lost Legends Online. In the game’s lore, once a character surpassed Level 250, they were considered demi-gods, existing beyond mortal constraints. They needed only a fraction of rest and sustenance compared to ordinary humans.

At least that’s a silver lining, I mused.

I wasn’t sure how long I could go before I felt the need to eat or sleep, but for now, it wasn’t a priority.

Instead, I focused on something else—my body.

AN UNFAMILIAR YET FAMILIAR BODY.

I curled and uncurled my fingers, flexing my hands as I felt the latent power within me. It was… strange. My movements weren’t just enhanced—they were unnaturally refined. I somehow knew exactly how to move, how to fight, how to wield a sword as if it were an extension of my body.

It was more than just raw strength or speed.

It was muscle memory.

Not my own, but that of my game character.

Was this some kind of simulated instinct carried over from the game? Or was it magic? Either way, it made me dangerously capable.

With that in mind, I decided to put it to the test.

I took a breath, crouched slightly—

And jumped.

TESTING THE LIMITS.

My body soared through the air, clearing the rooftop gap with effortless grace. I landed smoothly, rolling once before immediately kicking off into another jump. It felt natural, like second nature, even though I had never done parkour a day in my life.

My Dexterity stat was never my highest, I thought, leaping to another roof. But it was still superhuman enough.

Jumping across rooftops, I gradually made my way south, where the city’s buildings grew less dense. After a few minutes, I found myself in a desolate park, nestled within the quieter outskirts of Yellow Dragon City. The area was mostly abandoned, save for a few scattered trees and patches of overgrown stone pathways.

Perfect.

Here, I could finally take stock of my physical abilities without interruptions.

DIVINE SENSE: ACTIVE

But first—a precaution.

I activated Divine Sense, one of my detection skills. In the game, it typically manifested as red dots on the mini-map, highlighting any hostile entities nearby. It was especially potent against celestials, fiends, and undead—sometimes even allowing me to sense their intentions, according to the flavor text.

I closed my eyes, letting the skill expand outward.

…Nothing.

No hostile presences. No sneaky assassins lurking in the shadows. No demonic ambush waiting for me to lower my guard.

Good.

That meant I could safely begin my experiments.

With a smirk, I stretched my limbs, rolling my shoulders as anticipation thrummed through me.

Time to see just how strong I really was.