Chaos Plateau

Since arriving in this strange world, Lei Mo had possessed complete memories from the moment he was a fetus.

As he grew slightly older, he disliked playing with those around him, exhibiting symptoms somewhat akin to autism.

It is not that Lei Mo is bragging, but if anyone else had encountered his situation, they likely would have fared even worse; his experiences were simply too bizarre.

Living day in and day out among a group of fantasy creatures, his mind was constantly on edge, always fearing they might eat him.

"Fantasy creatures" was merely Lei Mo's euphemism; to put it bluntly, he lived among a pack of monsters.

If a mind grows from a blank slate, even the most grotesque figures become mundane if one is exposed to them from birth.

But Lei Mo could not manage that; with the soul of a man nearing forty trapped in an infant's body, he had tried hard to integrate into life, yet he could not.

This made Lei Mo appear very unsociable, and combined with his congenitally underdeveloped physique, he was practically seen as disabled in the eyes of his peers.

He wondered how his parents from his past life were doing now. Was there another version of him living his life for him?

His peers stood at heights of four or five meters, possessing dark, lustrous, and terrifyingly massive horns, curved bovine legs, and towering, hunched backs.

Yet all of this served only to remind Lei Mo that this was a fantasy world, and it was no longer Earth.

Eighteen years had passed, and Lei Mo had lived as best he could, looking at his own two-meter "small frame," the tiny horns on his head that were neither fully grown nor absent, his straight back, and his slender legs.

If not for his sexy little hooves and the beautiful nose ring the tribal elders had gifted him, Lei Mo would have thought he had been reincarnated as a human.

He was currently heroic in appearance, with beautifully defined muscle lines, and paired with his two-meter-tall, burly stature, he carried quite an extraordinary air.

Facing the sympathetic gazes of the surrounding Tauren, Lei Mo sighed helplessly, choosing to say nothing out of a desire to keep the peace.

Lei Mo's height and his upright posture were truly unwelcome in this Tauren tribe, where the mainstream aesthetic was completely at odds with his own.

That no heifer liked him was one thing, but why wouldn't the hunting party let him join? Lei Mo's strength was not weak at all.

After years of hard work, his Battle Qi had long since reached the seventh rank.

He could fully wield the tribe's giant weapons, but trying to reason with a group of guys whose brains were made of muscle was a lost cause!

Lei Mo eventually gave up the struggle; this world was very dangerous, and to this day, he only knew that the place he lived was called the Chaos Plateau, spanning millions of square kilometers.

His tribe was called Bloodhoof, and the entire tribe was also a clan, all sharing the surname Bloodhoof, so Lei Mo's full name should be—Lei Mo Bloodhoof, or Nemo Bloodhoof.

It sounded impressive, yet Bloodhoof was merely a small tribe of a few thousand people, unknown even within a radius of tens of thousands of miles.

Although the Tauren looked incredibly ferocious, they were a race close to nature; while they were fierce and peerless when hunting, they were not bloodthirsty.

Survival necessitated it; if they did not go out to hunt, they would starve. The Tauren's farming techniques were underdeveloped, relying only on simple fishing, hunting, and gathering, and their smelting technology was also poor.

Fortunately, this was a fantasy world; by offering totem poles at the Ancestral Grounds and receiving generations of faith and worship, the totem poles would possess magical powers.

The original materials for the totem poles varied—wood, bone, stone, metal—but after countless years and generations of inheritance, every totem pole had become something neither metal nor wood.

Therefore, every totem pole in the tribe was an heirloom weapon, and a "weakling" like Lei Mo was not qualified to possess one.

The tribe did have some metal weapons, the sources of which were basically trades with the Dwarves of the Wildhammer territory to the west of the continent.

The Bloodhoof tribe was not yet qualified to trade directly with the Wildhammer Dwarves, so the metal weapons they used had passed through countless hands, making them extremely expensive.

Thus, Lei Mo was still not qualified to own a metal weapon; he currently possessed only a log of unknown wood.

It was as thick as a bowl, over three meters long, dark as ink, and engraved with rough yet mysterious runes.

These were the ancestral runes passed down by the tribe; after countless years of blessings and offerings from generations of tribesmen, they had long since gained extraordinary power.

The runes on Lei Mo's log were relatively simple, merely engraved to reinforce the material. This rune, simple to the point of crudeness, had only one effect—durability.

Relying on this durability rune, Lei Mo's log was no worse than ordinary steel.

Since he obtained it upon coming of age at ten, eight years had passed, and all his rough actions—stabbing, smashing, and swinging—had not caused it any damage or even wear.

Yes, in the Bloodhoof tribe, tribesmen were considered adults at ten and had to be self-reliant.

Strictly speaking, ten was still just a half-grown kid for a Tauren, but such was the reality of the tribe.

Productivity was extremely underdeveloped; if not for this being an extraordinary world, the tribe would likely have ceased to exist long ago.

Although the hunting party did not let Lei Mo join, he could still hunt ordinary wild beasts and gather basic supplies.

The hunting parties in the tribe targeted Magic Beasts and giant beasts, and one careless move meant death; that was how Lei Mo's parents had perished.

Even so, Lei Mo did not receive unfair treatment in the tribe; as for being despised and pitied, that was a matter of aesthetics.

From the time he had memories until he could act independently and grow to the age of ten, he had been raised by the collective tribe.

Orphans were relatively common in Bloodhoof; Lei Mo was not the first, nor would he be the last.

No one knew what rank a Magic Beast was until the fighting started; through the bloody lessons of generations, the tribe had long since summarized the types and strengths of Magic Beasts.

Yet this was still unpredictable; if a seventh-rank Velociraptor broke through to the eighth or ninth rank, no one would know until it used magic corresponding to that level.

"Lei Mo, it's time to head to the temporary camp."

A Tauren who stood five meters tall, with a pair of pitch-black, wide, and terrifying horns, a massive metal ring through his nose, and muscles knotted all over his body, shouted, white steam puffing from his mouth.

This was one of the few friends Lei Mo had in the Bloodhoof tribe—Cairne. Despite his appearance, he was actually only fifteen, three years younger than Lei Mo.

There was only one reason Cairne didn't discriminate against Lei Mo and became his friend: he had been severely beaten by Lei Mo. Tauren were just that "straightforward," and Cairne's father happened to be the leader of the hunting party.

It was true that Lei Mo was "thin and weak," but his strength was not weak at all; by the age of ten, he already possessed fifth-rank strength.

Eight years have passed; whether he is at the sixth or seventh rank, no one knows, but one thing is certain: Cairne cannot beat him.

Although every member of the hunting party is a battle-hardened veteran, not everyone has reached the fifth rank.

Tauren are born with divine strength, and the strongest in the Bloodhoof Tribe, the chieftain Leland, is a ninth-rank powerhouse.

A ninth-rank powerhouse possesses a lifespan of five hundred years. While the Bloodhoof Tribe is obscure across the tens of thousands of miles of surrounding territory, they have never lacked ninth-rank warriors, and the tribe possesses a hereditary battle qi manual: Bloodhoof Battle Qi.

As for mages, the Bloodhoof Tribe has none; Tauren are close to nature and possess some nature-based magical professions.

Those are only found in large tribes, and they are not called mages, but Shaman Priests—a profession that holds both power and authority.

Shaman Priests among the Tauren, or the entire Orc Race, are passed down through master-apprentice lineages rather than school education, further contributing to the scarcity of magical professions on the Chaos Plateau.

For some reason, this world has magic, but it is not very standardized, differing greatly from the various elemental and ranked magic Lei Mo knows.

Is it that his own knowledge is insufficient?

He has heard that the human kingdoms in the east of the continent and the Elf Forest are the holy lands of magic; if there is an opportunity, he must go and see them for himself.

"I am preparing to go, Cairne! I am gathering the necessary tools and supplies for this period."

As he spoke, Lei Mo carried a backpack sewn from animal hide that was taller than himself, hoisted his own much smaller totem pole, and headed toward the temporary camp.

The Chaos Plateau spans millions of square kilometers, with various Orc tribes scattered sporadically.

The Bloodhoof Tribe is very small, but the range they can hunt and forage in is by no means small.

The gathering party Lei Mo is in goes out for months at a time, so necessary supplies and camping equipment must be brought along.

The gathering party has some young and middle-aged tribesmen responsible for security, while the rest are elderly or female Tauren.

Lei Mo does not feel awkward; after all, his size makes him look like a child in the tribe, which is quite deceptive.

Lei Mo had already become a seventh-rank warrior two years ago, so gathering, while not entirely without danger, is basically just manual labor.

"Cairne, is it your turn to lead the security detail this time? Has your father's hunting squad set out?" Lei Mo asked.

"They left long ago. This time they are heading to the Seti Mountains to hunt a lone seventh-rank Magic Beast—a Velociraptor. It has already threatened many of the Bloodhoof Tribe's gathering parties."

"If they kill this Velociraptor, its skeletal materials can be used to craft weapons, and its tendons can be used to make the back of a bow; in short, its entire body is a treasure."

Cairne said a few more words, his eyes filled with longing and fervor.

What warrior does not yearn for a bloody battle? For guys like the Tauren, whose heads are full of muscles, this is especially severe.

"It should be fine, right? The Velociraptor is only a seventh-rank Magic Beast, and Uncle Thomas is an eighth-rank powerhouse. As long as they are careful of the Velociraptor's desperate final strike before death, there shouldn't be any problems."

Lei Mo replied casually. Although the Velociraptor is only a seventh-rank Magic Beast, its massive size gives it terrifying strength.

It is also very fast; Tauren excel in strength, but they do not have the advantage when facing a Velociraptor.

They must also be careful if the Velociraptor has broken through to the eighth rank; otherwise, casualties would be inevitable.

There is a reason why the Chaos Plateau is called by that name. The Orc Race itself is divided into many tribes, living intermingled with Magic Beasts.

Conflicts with Magic Beasts break out frequently, and after countless years of slaughter, the Orcs have remained the victors, with the Magic Beasts holding no real advantage.

"By the way, Cairne, what do you think the supreme powerhouses of our Tauren are like? Are they very strong?" Lei Mo asked.

"I heard from my father that our chieftain once said that our Tauren race has powerhouses who are immortal," Cairne replied.

"Immortal?" Lei Mo fell into deep thought.

What kind of world is this? It is clearly a world of swords and magic, yet one can be immortal. Where is this?

Many thoughts raced through Lei Mo's mind; some felt familiar, yet they were very different from the world he understood.

Either his strength is insufficient, his talent is lacking, or the world itself is wrong. Lei Mo has no confidence at all.