Chapter Seventy-Six: The Deceptive Experience Bar

Unlike the flat plains of the great river basin to the north, the southern landscape, though gently rolling, is dominated by forest biomes with a far greater density of trees than the north. Fortunately, most of these are oak or birch woods; only near the southern border, where the land merges with the Black Forest, do the ominous black trees begin to appear. If not for this, even this region could have become another minor “breeding ground for monsters.”

The foliage here, touched by the peculiarities of the long winter, has been bleached white, so that from a distance the trees appear as if sculpted from ice—like strange, white-blooming cherry trees—both deceptive and beautiful to behold.

“Let me see…” Drawing the kingdom map from his inventory, Mo Fangyuan studied it carefully, trying to determine their location. He had never ventured into this southern stretch of the river basin and knew nothing of the terrain, so the map was his only guide.

The kingdom map he now held was no longer the tiny chart that once depicted only a small corner of the Block Kingdom. Through generations of exploration by his ancestors, and the tireless efforts of modern adventurers like himself, the map had expanded to include the northern deserts, the western plains, and the regions east and west of the great river. What was once a miniature map had grown into a small-scale chart, marked in detail with the various terrains, making it less a simple map and more a military asset.

With such a map, the field army could now orient itself, devise strategies, and avoid stumbling blindly as in the past.

“We’ll keep heading south. When we come to this stream, we’ll turn east…” Mo Fangyuan’s finger traced a pale blue line representing a river as he laid out the next stage of their journey. He was not alone this time—behind him marched seven warriors, relying on his guidance—so he could no longer wander aimlessly as before.

“We’ll keep going south until we reach the first village—does everyone understand?” Following the blue line for the stream, he pointed to the spot that marked the village and reminded his companions.

“Understood!” Map reading was a skill Mo Fangyuan was actively teaching these soldiers. Though they couldn’t yet use the map with true agility, they were learning to orient themselves.

“Good! Let’s move on!” Entering the white-washed oak wood, Mo Fangyuan ordered heightened vigilance to guard against any surprise attacks from monsters.

Crisp crunching sounds echoed as boots pressed into the snow. The group maintained a defensive formation around Mo Fangyuan, advancing steadily through the oaks toward their target, as the map directed.

It was already midday, and the stream was still some distance off. The dual strain of running to stave off the cold and the biting winter air meant their hunger grew quickly.

A low rumbling issued—not from a dove, but from the protesting stomach of one of their number.

“All right, let’s rest and restore our strength,” said Mo Fangyuan, who was also nearing the bottom of his own reserves. He divided the party into two: one group stayed to rest, while the other patrolled nearby for safety, switching roles after a time so that everyone could eat and recover.

Unwrapping a piece of roast lamb, Mo Fangyuan took a hearty bite; the rich flavor burst in his mouth. He was now a king who could dine on meat—a historic leap for the Block Kingdom! The nation’s productivity had grown considerably, stores were well stocked, and famine was no longer a looming threat. Production of meat, eggs, and milk had all increased. According to the latest statistics, citizens now enjoyed these high-energy foods three times a week, no longer forced to subsist on potatoes alone.

He inhaled deeply—the lamb was nourishing, and even one piece left him feeling restored. With a balanced diet of meat and vegetables, nutrition and health were ensured. Next, he produced a roasted potato and ate it contentedly.

Compared to the polluted industrial world of his previous life, this blocky realm was a global “oxygen bar;” the air here was fresher than anywhere, even freer than in America. Though the cold bit at him, each breath brought the faint scent of earth, the freshness of the air, and the deep, woody aroma of the forest. Perhaps this was what a true forest should smell like.

Unlike other gaming youths who became indifferent after breaking their internet addiction, Mo Fangyuan, truly freed from the shackles of virtual worlds, had begun to notice the small details around him, and his temperament had grown more sensitive. It was, perhaps, a good habit.

With a satisfied belch after finishing his potato, he finally felt full. He set a block of wool on the ground, brushed the snow from his iron armor, and sat down to rest.

Soon, the first group had finished their break, and switched with the second patrol. Mo Fangyuan remained seated, lost in his worries.

It was that troublesome experience bar, his so-called golden finger since his arrival in this world.

But using this golden finger required a strong constitution, something Mo Fangyuan sorely lacked. After more than a year, he was still stuck at level nine. Partly, this was because he had been too busy to hunt monsters for experience, but it also illustrated just how hard it was to level up—the required experience multiplied with every stage.

To reach level one from zero, he had to slay around fifty monsters and collect their orbs. The stat boost was slight, but it was a start. To reach level two, he estimated he’d killed over two hundred monsters, with little gain. By the third level, it was closer to five hundred. Only by the sixth or seventh level did the attribute gains become worthwhile, but the number of monsters required was staggering. He had long since lost count.

The higher his level, the greater the rewards, but the harder the grind. Even after his experience bar evolved a function to analyze objects mid-way, the effort still far outweighed the benefits.

Mo Fangyuan suspected that whoever designed this experience bar must have been a capitalist at heart.

Sighing, he stared at the dim, quarter-filled bar in his mind. He had tried letting others kill monsters and collecting the orbs himself, but found he could only absorb experience from monsters he had personally slain, or where he had dealt the majority of the damage. This dashed any hopes of “power-leveling” through others.

As for the monster-farming towers so common in his former world—they simply wouldn’t work here. Even if one could be built, it would never function like the hammer-shaped structures of old. Monsters, like all living beings, left actual corpses that did not vanish but piled up, eventually blocking the spawner’s exit.

One might suggest burning the corpses with sunlight, and while this was possible, it took time—at least fifteen seconds for a monster to burn down to loot in the sun. Meanwhile, new monsters falling onto existing corpses would survive the drop, unharmed. It didn’t take much imagination to see the result: once the spawner clogged, it would fill with surviving monsters, who would eventually break free, invade nearby buildings, and slaughter the block-people.

“At this rate, I’ll be stuck for another year!” Mo Fangyuan thought gloomily, frowning in frustration.