After resurrecting the Goblin ChampionI opened my system window, I realized that I had reached level 5 and allocated my stat points accordingly. After careful consideration, my stats looked as follows:

[Username: Abel]

[Level: 5]

[Experience: 450/500]

[Rank: F]

[Health: 200/200]

[Mana: 180/180]

[Strength: 20]

[Agility: 22]

[Intelligence: 24]

[Vitality: 20]

[Element: Death]

[Cultivation Realm: Earth Warrior]

[Cultivation Stage: 5]

[Skills: Raise Skeleton]

[Undead Minion: Goblin Chief (GC)]

[Rank: F+]

[Health: 150/150]

[Strength: 30]

[Agility: 18]

[Intelligence: 5]

[Vitality: 25]

"As Abel's intelligence increased to 24, his mana also increased to 180. This boost in intelligence allowed him to have a larger reserve of magical energy, enabling him to cast spells and utilize his death element more effectively."

"Similarly, as his vitality increased to 20, his health also increased to 200. This enhancement in vitality improved his overall endurance and resilience, enabling him to withstand more damage in battles."

After reading the updated system window, I couldn't help but smile. I had gained a lot in these few hours. "Okay, Abel, I think it should be enough for now. Let's head back home, and we'll continue training here. Just to let you know, you're not allowed to delve into the dungeon alone. If I catch you sneaking here again, the consequences won't be nice," my father warned with a stern expression. I nodded in understanding, acknowledging his words. I left the Skeleton Goblin Chief in the desert, instructing it to hide there for the time being.

When we arrived home, my mother greeted me with a frown on her face. "What happened to all the guards that went with you guys?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"They died at the mouth of a desert serpent due to their negligence," my father replied with sorrow evident on his face for the loss of valiant warriors. I chuckled inwardly, recognizing my father's devious nature and his ability to weave stories.

Another five years passed, and I had grown exponentially. I had already reached the 6th stage of the Sky Warrior Realm, which increased my limit on stats and made me grow stronger at an accelerated rate. In addition, my parents had welcomed another baby into the family five years ago, and his name was Louie. I insisted on naming my brother, and my parents succumbed to my wishes. I gave him the name because he looked like a duckling, and it brought a smile to my face.

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In my previous life, I had a younger sister who was tragically killed by the sect leader, where my mother used to work as a maid. We were treated like pigs, but I truly loved my sister. However, everything changed when the son of the sect leader tried to pursue my sister. The leader disapproved, and my poor sister paid the price with her life. His words still echoed in my head, fueling my desire for revenge. "Make sure to keep your filthy kids away from my household, or the other one will face the same consequences," he had said to my mother while beating her mercilessly.

That day marked a turning point in my life. After four years, I returned for my revenge. I raped his wife in front of his eyes, reveling in the sorrow that filled his gaze. Later, I systematically cut off each of his fingers, causing him to writhe in agonizing pain. Finally, I ensured he met his end in excruciating torment. The memory of that incident still brought a twisted smile to my face.

Speaking of my brother, we had grown remarkably close. I taught him some sword fighting techniques, and since then, he had become even more hot-headed than my mother. I often wondered where his hotheadedness came from, but it only brought us closer.

One evening, as we sat down for lunch, a guard clad in golden robes, bearing the insignia of a lion, entered the room. "We bring an invitation for Sir Marcus Rashfield from His Majesty King Arthur the 5th. May the Sun God bless him," he announced, handing a parchment to my father. My father read the parchment and smiled. "It seems we have received a letter from the capital. There's a royal ball taking place in three weeks, and our family has been invited," he declared, addressing all of us.

"Yes, finally! We're going to visit the capital, and we need to buy new clothes for the ball. We can't afford to look like this in front of royalty," my mother exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. Two weeks flew by, and my family embarked on a journey to the capital, traversing through rough plains, hoping for an uneventful journey.

As the sun began to set, the tranquility of our journey was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. The rhythmic thumping grew louder, revealing the presence of a group of camels drawing closer. The coachman's voice trembled as he spoke, "Sire, it seems the bandits are upon us."

My brother's eyes blazed with determination as he turned to our father. "Father, give me this chance to prove myself. I will bring those buffoons' heads to you in 15 minutes," he declared, his voice laced with both anger and a desire to prove his worth.

With a nod, my father granted his request, "Very well, suit yourself." My brother stepped out of the carriage, ready to face the assailants. However, his bravado quickly waned, and he hurried back within moments. "I think it would be more appropriate for you to go, Abel. As the older brother, it's your duty to face them," he stammered, resembling a frightened chicken.

My mother, observing this exchange, chimed in, "It's alright. I could use a warm-up. I've been feeling a bit stiff lately." Her words sparked a mischievous smile on my face, while my father began chanting a spell, his hands raised as if in prayer.

Confusion washed over me as I watched my father's strange ritual. It soon became clear that he possessed the ability to conjure spells, not just pray. He motioned for me to observe the spectacle outside. As I peered out, I saw a group of 25 men encircling my mother, taunting her with crude remarks about her fiery red hair and their plans to enjoy her company.

In response, my mother chuckled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "More like warming up your asses." In an instant, two fireballs burst forth from her hands, hurtling towards two unsuspecting men in the group. The fireballs struck with deadly precision, reducing the targets to charred corpses.

Realizing the danger they faced, the assailants cried out a warning, "She's a mage! Be careful! Attack from both sides!" Unfazed, my mother conjured a whip made of flames, its fiery tendrils crackling with intensity. With a swift motion, she swung the whip at the closest assailant to her left. The flames wrapped around his neck, suffocating and burning him simultaneously.

Panic gripped the remaining attackers as they attempted to retreat, but my father seemed to vanish into thin air. Suddenly, his sword impaled the heart of one assailant, and before the next could react, he swiftly dispatched him with a strike to the neck. It appeared as though he had teleported, but I knew from witnessing his incredible speed in action that he was merely moving at the speed of light. With each flash-step, another life was extinguished, until the bandits lay lifeless on the ground.

A playful smirk tugged at my father's lips as he looked at my mother. "Looks like I killed 17 this time, almost double your count," he teased.

My mother humphed and retorted, "Well, that's because they ran like chickens at the sight of my flames. A bunch of cowardly fools."

I couldn't help but smile at their banter, but we had to hurry. Time was slipping away, and we needed to reach the capital before it was too late.