Translator: Exodus Tales  Editor: Exodus Tales

There are as many legends as there are dogs, and Liches were everywhere.

Soran inexplicably recalled a phrase he often heard previously. This was a phrase of self-mockery used by many people, especially those before reaching the realm of legends. Many people who were seriously injured or died liked to use this phrase to mock themselves. Although he had not seen a Lich yet he had already encountered plenty of quasi-legendary professions. As a grade 3 profession, Soran was under great pressure to level up. However, he couldn’t just find a Dragon, tell it to lie down and kill it.

In a month, he had advanced from the lowest Thief to a grade 3 profession. No one advanced faster than him except the descendants of deities with extraordinary bloodlines.

But Soran still felt that it was not enough. He was still not strong enough.

The information they extracted was actually very vague, except for the names of the degenerates in the town, everything else was very vague since no one had seen the chosen ones. Soran had asked for details and found out that the chosen one had been wearing a black cloak with obvious scars around her ears. The color of her palm was not that of an ordinary elf, which was how they determined her race. She arrived more than half a month ago when Soran was still at Whiterun.

The believers believed that she was incarnate of the Maiden of Pain.

Since it was blasphemous if it were not true, there might be some truth in this statement.

Deity incarnates were basically chosen people who had received divine powers. They play a pivotal role in the deities shrine. The power of the chosen ones was equivalent to that of a Priest of about 20 Profession Level. They could use the gift of divine powers to perform [Devine Word] or [Blasphemous Language], which was very close to a level 9 divine spell.

Those spells could cause someone to commit suicide or could be used to manipulate people. They could even use it to gain a bunch of crazy fanatics.

As long as there were problems with the person’s soul, it was possible to guide them through these spells.

The town guards began to arrest the fallen believers. The middle-aged women gloomily gave orders, and then someone went to give word to the Shrine Guards of the agriculture shrine.

The power of the shrines was supported by three main components: the Priests, believers, and the Shrine Guards.

Five grade 3 Shrine Guards appeared, wearing heavy armor to follow the group of guards. These were the opponents Soran could not take on in the past, but now he could go head-on on a three on one situation. He had grown at an alarming rate. Unfortunately, he was given too little time. He spent one month to do what others did for more than ten years, but the numerous enemies he had to face were thousands of years ahead of him.

The sky was slowly getting dark.

There was a hint of panic in the town, but Soran did not care about it. He rested in the hotel and trained his Will in silence.

He needed to accomplish the training of The Ascetic once!

To deal with these degenerates, Soran, as a foreign adventurer had no need to fight in the front line. The devotees of Maiden of Pain were not at all fun to deal with. They might die if they were not careful.

There were very few ways to acquire Slaughter EXP in a short time. The distribution of organisms was relatively diffused, and indiscriminate killing of people would only lead to destruction. Ordinary creatures gave too little experience in, but it was difficult to challenge a group of monsters. It also took too much time to assassinate them one by one.

Under normal circumstances, Soran estimated that it would take him at least seven days to gain enough experience to gain one Profession Level.

He needed to absorb the divinity!

Soran wanted to go head-on against the Will of the Dread Lord, to absorb the divinity the Dread Lord had broken off.

However, this required an immense Will.

The night passed quickly, and Soran slept very well that night. It was a complete supplement to his previous energy expenditure. When he came out the next day, he looked very different. He took off his leather armor and warm cotton-padded clothes. He was wearing only the thinnest linen clothes with his hair stretched over his shoulders. He didn’t even wear no shoes and went out to the bone-chilling outside.

Asceticism!

The best way to train one’s Will.

A strong Will had to be trained and accumulated over time; it was not something that could change just because you made a decision.

It was something accumulated slowly as you persisted!

He stepped barefoot on the ice and snow, and the cold wind blew through his clothes. The thin linen was basically useless. Even with Soran’s 21 Constitution, he could not resist the cold coming from all directions. Others in the town looked at him with a strange look. It was like looking at a madman, a fool. Even the cold-resistant northerners would become sick moments after going out with such thin cloth.

Soran went to the agricultural shrine. His dressing shocked the Priest. but she knew what Soran was doing because Priests also did this!

She was only surprised because she could not understand why a Rogue needed to train their Will in such an extreme way since Rogues did not need to rely on their Will to strengthen their beliefs as the Priests did.

Rogues usually believed in everything, thus the deities were just another thing they believed in!

Soran received his due reward: a small amount of gold of about 30 pieces, followed by a portion of Holy Water, and two bottles of Strong Healing Potions.

The potions were worth more than 500 Gold Derahls and had the ability to heal moderate injuries to severe injuries.

Priests were the experts in this field.

Soran continued his journey. He wore thin linen clothes, stepped barefoot on the icy snow, and moved forward step by step, without any extraordinary ability or spell. He walked forward step by step, and the ubiquitous cold penetrated into his body. His arms, cheeks, and feet soon became slightly green. Because he wore no shoes for protection, the soles of his feet began to have slight scars.

The ground was rough with stones, dead branches, and insignificant thorns.

Frostbite slowly accumulated.

Although the rate was slow, the frostbite damage still steadily increased. Because of the scars on his foot, Soran also got slight bruise damage. These injuries gradually reduced his HP and his vitality.

On the first day.

Soran walked 150 kilometers barefoot. He met a hungry white bear, but the bear died under his sword.

Night soon came.

He had not drunk anything all day and only had a little water at this time. He slowly ate some dried food, not meat, just the roughest black bread. The frostbite on his whole body had been very obvious, and his HP had been reduced to around 10 HP. If there he had no regenerative abilities and an extraordinary Constitution of more than 20, Soran would probably have frozen to death in a day. Minor Cold Resistance could not offset all the cold injury in this environment.

Soran did not make a bonfire. He sat on a rock, held his curved sword in both hands, and slowly closed his eyes!

This was the training method of the Swordsaints.

He was meditating but was not training his spirit like a Wizard, rather he was training his Will.

The whistling cold wind did not stop for a moment.

Occasionally, snowflakes fell on Soran. The snow melted bit by bit and then froze to ice because of the cold temperature. Soran sat on the rocks motionless. His whole person looked like an ice sculpture. Only his heart was still beating slowly and smoothly.

The night slowly went by.

When Soran opened his eyes the next day, his body was already covered in white frost and his whole body was a little blue and purple. When he sheathed his curved sword, some of his flesh came off too. His palm that had touched the body of the curved sword became stuck to it. The overnight meditation made him feel stiff. The frostbite damage had accumulated to more than fifty points, which was almost one-third of his HP.

He slowly got up, drank a little ice water, and ate some food before he slightly moved his body.

There were no creatures that came to look for death today.

Soran’s skin was slightly reddish after moving slightly. He drank a bottle of Healing Potion and felt a rush of heat in his body. The power of the potion did not restore him quickly. Soran took a brief rest and began his journey again. He was still in thin clothes and barefoot on the ice and snow. As he walked forward bit by bit, he occasionally encountered other people; they all looked at him in disbelief. He looked just like a madman!

The second, third, and fourth day had passed.

As time went by, Soran became thinner and was more tired. The frostbite on his body had accumulated which caused his skin to crack, but the spirit in his eyes became more and more determined, just like a sharp blade buried in ice and snow. He slaughtered a group of Winter Wolves, three Bugbears, and had a brief encounter with an Ice Troll.

Solon walked less and less as the days went by because he was really tired.

On his way, he encountered some human villages, but he did not stop at all and just walked quietly.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh day passed.

Soran’s lips were completely cracked, his body was full of terrible frostbite, and he no longer looked as handsome as he was. His walking position was slightly inconvenient. Even though he had drunk all the potion, the accumulated frostbite still dragged him into a state of serious injury. He attracted a large pack of wolves because of the bloody smell from his frozen wounds. The wolfs even bit his leg and caused wounds to be slow to heal.

The Frost Kingdom was forever this cold.

Soran with his barefoot and thin clothes had traveled more than a thousand miles. When a city appeared in front of him, he finally got the long-awaited ability data.

He had walked thousands of miles barefooted.

Even though he was physically very weak, he was also at his strongest now!

Life and death was this moment!

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