Stepping out of the portal, Robbie felt alive again.
Brilliant sunshine, air he could breathe freely, a beautiful world.
Right, what had that cold-air guy meant by "feeling the beauty of life"?
Should I reflect on life too? Is that how I'll comprehend the power of the Holy Light?
But before reflecting on life, he first had to figure out how to eat.
To eat, he needed a job.
Robbie took his stamped form to collect weapons and armor near the portal.
When Robbie saw the equipment he'd been given, he was furious.
"Don't take advantage of me just because I'm uneducated," Robbie protested to the human sergeant distributing the equipment. "This battered Blood Guard set isn't even Alliance gear. And the weapon—how can you have the nerve to hand out a gray Unstoppable Force? Have you people no conscience?"
The sergeant stood up, his eyes wide as he glared at Robbie. "You're not satisfied? Come on, then, hit me! If I hit you back, I'm your grandson! Damn it, I've been sick of this job for ages!"
Faced with such defiance and brazenness, Robbie froze, unsure what to do.
The assistant beside the sergeant sighed and said in a low voice:
"Young adventurer, please don't be rash. To encourage adventurers to enter Draenor, armor and weapons were offered as a special reward, with a budget of fifteen hundred gold coins per person. The Stormpike Dwarves of Alterac Valley originally won the contract. But our beloved prince pulled some strings behind the scenes, and somehow the supplier became the Frostwolf Clan. How could Orcs look kindly on the Alliance? They took out equipment damaged on the old Alterac Valley battlefield, patched it up, and passed it off as good. There's nothing we can do. Please try to understand."
The sergeant was no less angry, though his anger wasn't directed at Robbie. He shouted at the crowd, "That damned disappointment of a prince is closer to the Horde than his own father! One day I'll cut his head off and use it as a chamber pot!"
Robbie was taken aback and deeply moved. This was the second time he had seen a lower-ranking soldier malign a leader of his own people. The difference was that the Horde had discussed it in private, while the Alliance voiced its discontent with its leader in public.
The assistant hurriedly tried to calm him. "Sir, please calm down. The leaders surely have a deeper reason for this. People like us simply can't fathom it."
"Deeper reason, my ass! The bastard's just a coward..."
Robbie shook his head and sighed. Knowing that arguing further would get him nowhere, he could only bundle up the shabby equipment.
An ordinary adventurer would have sold the set to a shop as trash, but Robbie was poor, so he could only make do with it for now.
Only after entering the Stormshield base did Robbie learn that his troubles had just begun.
Although the Alliance paid little attention to Draenor, more than a thousand adventurers had gathered at Stormshield. Besides the seven major Alliance races—humans, Dwarves, Night Elves, Gnomes, Draenei, Worgen, and Pandaren—there were also neutral parties such as Ogres, Kobolds, Ethereals, Naga, Murlocs, Arakkoa, Furbolgs, and Centaurs. It was a veritable melting pot of races.
In the game, players became commanders high above everyone else as soon as they entered Draenor. They had seaside garrisons that were warm in winter and cool in summer, as well as twenty-five followers at their beck and call.
In reality, however, an ordinary person could never become a commander. They were either leaders of renowned major guilds or the children of powerful, well-connected families.
For an ordinary adventurer like Robbie, becoming a follower was the most he could hope for.
What troubled Robbie was that competition for follower positions was fierce. It was nothing like the game, where commanders unlocked followers by completing quests.
Instead, commanders picked through the many adventurers as if selecting piglets.
Robbie couldn't help recalling the crowds at job fairs, and the countless students standing beneath the blazing sun.
When commanders selected followers, the first thing they looked at was experience. Veteran players were the most sought after—oh, no, experienced adventurers.
Next came equipment and strength.
"Do you have any adventuring experience? Have you been on Deathwing's back? Have you been to the Shrine of Seven Stars? Do you know which way the doors of the Terrace of Endless Spring open? Have you walked the tightrope on the Timeless Isle? I want experienced followers. Newcomers aren't welcome."
Even inexperienced newcomers needed impressive credentials to back them up, such as Death Knights from Acherus: The Ebon Hold or Windwalker Monks who had graduated from the Shado-Pan. Even if a commander's luck was a little poor, they would still be of excellent quality, making them the most sought-after recruits in Stormshield.
The least reliable were independent adventurers without guilds, like Robbie and his lot. Their ranks included idle members of various races, hoodlums, fugitives, and thieves. After signing a contract, they were likely to turn out to be blank-slate followers, with no skills or talents and enormous appetites.
As for experience, Robbie had little to show and couldn't compete.
His equipment went without saying. His entire outfit was gray, battered junk he was too embarrassed to show anyone.
As for strength, Robbie thought his hand-to-hand skills were decent, and he was stronger than a young Gronn. On the continent of Azeroth, however, strength was judged primarily by mastery of skills.
Skill mastery was divided into six realms, from lowest to highest: Entry, Proficiency, Mastery, Transcendence, No-Move, and Deification.
As the name suggested, the Entry realm meant having a basic grasp of a skill. One could only bring out part of its power, making it of little use in actual combat.
Proficiency meant being proficient enough with a skill to use it under normal circumstances with considerable effect.
Mastery meant having a thorough understanding of a skill and using it flexibly, unhindered by one's surroundings or physical and mental state.
Take a mage's Polymorph, for example. At the Mastery level, it could turn people not only into sheep, but also pigs, chickens, penguins, mice, or crows, changing them into whatever the mage pleased.
The Transcendence realm meant using a skill at a master's level, with a deeper understanding that was no longer limited by the skill itself.
For example, books stated that a mage needed a cast time to turn someone into a sheep, but at the Transcendence level, a mage could cast it instantly at any time. An ordinary mage could only cast Polymorph on one target, while someone at the Transcendence level could even turn a whole group into sheep.
The No-Move realm meant understanding a skill at the grandmaster level, having reached the point where having moves surpassed having no moves. The use of the skill reached an inconceivable, unimaginable level.
Again, a mage's Polymorph could normally only turn a person into a sheep, but at the No-Move realm, it could turn a sheep into a person.
As for the Deification realm, it was not something ordinary living beings could comprehend.
In short, without professional skills, no matter how great his strength or how good his hand-to-hand combat was, he was only a blank-slate adventurer in terms of strength. Commanders would not accept him.
No experience, no equipment, no strength.
Robbie felt his prospects were bleak. He could only study the "Holy Light Compendium" day and night, hoping to gain something.
Unfortunately, ideals were full and reality was cruel. The Holy Light was like the moon reflected in water or a flower reflected in a mirror: visible, but forever out of reach.
If that "princess" shows up, how am I supposed to become her follower? That's a problem.
One day, Robbie was leaning against the town hall wall, basking in the sun, when he saw a young human woman approaching gracefully. She had probably just come through the portal and seemed unfamiliar with her surroundings in Stormshield, looking around as she walked.
"Excuse me, where can I hire a Pandaren follower from the Shado-Pan Monastery?"
Her voice was clear and pleasant, with considerable authority.
Robbie raised his head and met the woman's gaze.
The young woman had a beautiful face and a slender figure. Her outfit looked casual, but had clearly been put together with great care, and not a strand of her shoulder-length black hair was out of place. She wore an enchanter's robe beneath a Bloodfist jacket and carried a Phantom Staff from the Scarlet Monastery on her back.
A black eye patch rested above her eyebrows like a headband. Her curved eyes were exceptionally bright, and her gaze was sharp as a pair of daggers, carrying a natural sense of pressure.
Their eyes met. Seeing her exquisite face, Robbie felt a sudden roar in his head as memories flooded back.
Earth, the Warcraft movie premiere, a WeChat message before it began.
"Tomorrow, I'll wait for you at the airport."
An unforgettable first love from his university days, a beautiful romance across national borders, and someone waiting across the ocean.
An extraordinary woman who always thought carefully, liked to listen, chose her words with piercing precision, and was stubborn and brave.
She had abandoned a comfortable life without hesitation to pursue her ideals and dreams, knowing full well that the road was thorny and fraught with hardship.
Robbie had broken his promise. After the movie ended, he had boarded a train back to his hometown instead of going to the airport.
All along the way, his lover's lovely image filled his mind.
It had ended in tragedy. Faced with difficulties and challenges, and a choice between dreams and reality, Robbie had backed down. He had failed to go with his lover and chosen to compromise with reality.
They had never met or contacted each other again, and he had heard nothing from her.
Afterward, Robbie had become a civil servant in his hometown.
He had thought he would soon forget, but instead the memory had only grown more deeply etched in his heart.
Nothing moved him anymore, and he had no passion. Life went on day after day, year after year, dull and monotonous. He was like a walking corpse.
In the year he turned twenty-three, the life of Robbie from Earth had effectively ended.
Haunted by those memories countless times, Robbie had searched his heart and asked himself, If I were given another choice...
I must live a life of passion, see it through from beginning to end, and strive for my ideals...
The same face, the same bright, stubborn gaze.
His vision gradually blurred, and tears filled Robbie's eyes.
"What's wrong?" The young woman looked a little surprised and carefully took a step back.
"It's nothing. Thank the Holy Light, I've seen the light." Robbie raised a hand, and a ray of Holy Light enveloped his body. He felt the rich Holy Light.
When you felt the beauty of life, the Holy Light would favor you.
"Oh, congratulations, ascetic. Well then, goodbye." The woman was about to leave.
"Wait, miss, please hold on." Robbie hurried to his feet. "You're a commander, aren't you? Are you looking to hire a follower?"
The young woman glanced at Robbie, her brows knitting slightly. "Yes, I'm planning to hire a Pandaren from the Shado-Pan Monastery..."
"Pandaren won't do." Robbie's mind raced as he considered his words. "You see, Pandaren have fur. They get lice and fleas, especially those from the Shado-Pan Monastery. They're so obsessed with martial arts that they neglect their hygiene and only bathe once a month."
For the sake of a job, and to get closer to the woman who looked exactly like the lover he had cherished in his previous life, he had no choice but to go against his conscience and slander his competitors.
"I'm young, so don't go lying to me," the young woman said, tilting her head with exactly the same adorable expression as the lover in his heart.
"It's true, absolutely true." Robbie seized the chance to promote himself. "Why not hire me? I bathe in seawater three times a day, so I'm clean and fresh. And I've already mastered the Holy Light. I'm destined to become a great Paladin."
The young woman curled her lips in a faint, mocking sneer.
This is bad, Robbie thought. This young woman isn't so easy to fool. What should I do?
"Huh?" The young woman looked a little surprised and studied Robbie closely. "I know you. The Deadmines, Capor the miser."
Robbie was taken aback too. Over the past few days, he had pieced together some of Robbie Capor's memories, including an experience in the Deadmines.
"May I ask who you are?"
The young woman folded her arms. She carried the natural, lofty bearing of a superior as she said coldly, "Of course you don't recognize me. Back in the Deadmines, even I, your leader, found it very difficult to see you. The Azeroth Reputation Gazette rated you an exceptionally rare elite, and to this day it still lacks an illustration of you."
"The leader of the Deadmines? You... you're Vanessa." Robbie felt his mind couldn't keep up. Vanessa VanCleef, the final boss after the Deadmines was revamped in the Cataclysm, the young woman named "Hope," VanCleef's daughter.
Could I be mistaken? How could VanCleef's daughter be a princess? Was she a princess of the underworld?
"My full name is Vanessa?Ellian." Vanessa's gaze sharpened like two piercing blades. She was indeed the leader of the Defias Brotherhood; she was terrifying. The lover in Robbie's memories had rarely looked so fierce, so he decided not to say anything more.
Ellian, Ellian... Robbie thought hard. Right, that was the surname of King Varian's late queen.
Could there be a secret here that no one knows about? Of course. Why would the royal family reveal its secrets to commoners?
"I'm quite sentimental about old times." Vanessa studied Robbie closely, assessing his strength. "There's no great loss in not hiring a Pandaren from the Shado-Pan, so I'll give you the opportunity. I believe in assigning people work according to their abilities, and I won't abandon any of my own people. If you're not strong enough to be a follower, we're short of builders and lumberjacks. Failing that, the garrison's toilets need cleaning too."
"Don't worry, don't worry." Robbie was delighted and hurriedly swore an oath. "I'll become an excellent follower."