I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 713 - 713 712. Setting fire to the mountain serving a long

Chapter 713: 712. Setting fire to the mountain, serving a long sentence in jail_1 Chapter 713: 712. Setting fire to the mountain, serving a long sentence in jail_1 On the other side, after logging off to cool his head, Old Eggplant logged back in and suddenly realized he had been ignoring an issue all along.

That was, although those flowers attacked humans, they were essentially still plants.

Even if they were a combination of animals and plants, they were ultimately a form of life.

As long as they were living beings, they should be afraid of fire.

Plus, it was the Black Forest, theoretically, the players didn’t need to protect the forest, they could just set it on fire and be done with it.

Old Eggplant felt his idea made a lot of sense, and he discussed it with his previous teammates.

“Damn, how did we not think of this, our brains were out to lunch.”

“So the question is, where do we find fire?”

“Great idea, let’s go borrow some fire from the villagers, and burn that thing clean!”

“This is the charm of an open-world game, when one gameplay method doesn’t work, there’s definitely another method that can get you through!”

“Set fire to the forest, and you’ll end up sitting in jail.”

“Just burn it, this Black Forest seems to have been caused by the Demonic Tide anyway, burning a bit of it should be no problem.”

“Back in my hometown, we often burned straw too, the ashes that fell on the ground could even be used as fertilizer!”

With that thought, Old Eggplant immediately knocked on the door of a farmhouse in the town that still had lights on.

At this time, Night Country had entered the night, and the bright moon hung high, which seemed no different from that on Earth.

But players who had seen “Magic Tide” knew very well that on certain days, this moon would turn blood-red, and that crimson moon would bring endless Demonic Beasts, ravaging the whole world, where even Mages could only sacrifice themselves to barely contend with it, struggling to survive in that chaotic storm.

Fortunately, at least for now, the moon was still silver, so there was no need to worry about the coming of the Demonic Tide.

The farmer seemed puzzled, as candles were not common in Night Country. A single candle could usually last an ordinary farmhouse for a week. They mostly followed a lifestyle of working from sunrise to sunset, and it was almost time for them to blow out the candle and go to bed and make babies.

“Bro, can I borrow some fire?”

In Old Eggplant’s hands were a few sticks he had picked up, which were still somewhat damp from the rotting leaves and gave off a putrid smell.

The farmer hesitated for a moment, looked at the candle, and eventually let Old Eggplant into the house to light his sticks.

By the light of the candle, Old Eggplant could just make out the conditions inside the house. The wooden house’s roof was thatched with straw, which would become very damp when it rained and could even leak. The house had no separation into rooms, with a cooking hearth by the entrance, a wooden bed inside, no tables or chairs, and no cabinets. The candle was placed on the hearth, and the place was so rudimentary that Old Eggplant wondered how they managed to live like this.

He didn’t speak; this situation wasn’t something that could change overnight. To improve people’s living standards, it was necessary to develop the productive forces.

And the problem with Sunset Town right now was the lack of productive force; additionally, it was troubled by attacks from the demonic beasts in the Black Forest. If they could defeat the demonic beasts and clear the Black Forest, cultivate new farmland, only then, with increased productivity, would it be possible to change the living conditions here.

Old Eggplant struggled for a while before he managed to light the sticks. The fire brightened up the room, illuminating the woman and child on the bed.

The flickering firelight reflected in their eyes, then faded away as Old Eggplant left.

Old Eggplant had no time for sentiment, as the fire was about to go out.

He and the other players hurried to use the sticks to spread the fire and grabbed some dry leaves. Soon, a bonfire was lit on the edge of the fields.

The players let out cheers, their faces showing sheer excitement.

No boy could resist a straight stick, and even less so a stick with fire on it.

But there was still a problem, the burning of the sticks was very unstable; it would take something with the intensity of a torch to ignite the forest.

It wasn’t the dry and flammable autumn, the Black Forest itself was quite damp, and to have a satisfying burn, they had to think it through.

Now, Old Eggplant felt that a game being too realistic wasn’t entirely a good thing.

In other games, any old piece of wood became a nuclear-powered torch that could burn for hundreds of hours without going out.

But inside the [Cage], even torches had to be crafted by themselves.

If we manage to defeat the monsters later, would the spoils of war… also have to be skinned by us?

Ordinary torches are usually made of thick wooden sticks wrapped with cloth, then soaked with gasoline or the like, and after drying out they could continue to burn continuously.

But where would they find cloth now?

Old Eggplant scratched his head and quickly turned his gaze to the other players.

“What are you thinking of doing, setting people on fire is definitely not allowed.”

The person he was looking at instinctively took two steps back.

“No, the clothes on our bodies are made of cloth, and when we revive after dying, our clothes are intact, indicating that these are our initial equipment.”

Old Eggplant felt he’d discovered a brilliant point.

“What if we strip our clothes and then go get ourselves killed, will these items disappear along with us?”

The players looked at each other in bewilderment.

A true capitalist stops at nothing, not even themselves.

“I’ll go give it a try first.”

Embodying the spirit of leading by example, Old Eggplant immediately stripped off his clothes and ran naked towards the forest.

After a while, there was no change in the clothes, only an Old Eggplant, wearing his initial outfit, hurried back and excitedly asked.

“How about it, are the clothes still there?”

When the players saw the clothes in their hands and Old Eggplant dressed again, they all erupted into chaos.

They stripped off their clothes and ran naked through the fields, one by one they charged into the forest, looking for various ways to end themselves, then crawled out of the muck, one piece of clothing multiplied into two, then three, and soon, the field was ripe with a harvest of clothes.

Although the quality of these clothes was nothing special, they were still better than the common villagers’ garments, not to mention, when the real cold season arrived, having an extra layer was always beneficial.

Old Eggplant didn’t deal with these clothes but planned to distribute them to others the next day at dawn. He picked up a few pieces, tore them into strips, wrapped them around wooden sticks and tied knots. Without gasoline, he could only burn them as they were.

Leading a group of players with torches in hand, Old Eggplant quickly returned to that spot next to the thickets where he knew, even with his eyes closed, from where the vines would come crashing through.

But this time, Old Eggplant didn’t recklessly walk into it; instead, he illuminated the wriggling thicket with the light of the fire.

“Die!”

With that shout, he hurled the torch into the thicket.

If this was called a game, then it surely was just a game, but under the conditions of virtual reality, these monsters indeed had killed him countless times. At this moment, the personal sense of hatred became his motivation to fight.

Along with Old Eggplant’s shouts, countless torches were thrown into the thickets. Despite the moisture of the Black Forest, under the scorching of so many torches, the area began to catch fire.

The twisted vines struggled in vain, the flowers that could devour human flesh withered away in the flames.

As the fire spread, Old Eggplant felt as if his soul had gone through Sublimation, a joy like he had never experienced before surged within him.

It was the pleasure of revenge, the exhilaration of humanity finally triumphing over nature, the thrill of his soul being set free.

He bared a somewhat ferocious smile, which looked particularly sinister in the flickering firelight.

Then, Old Eggplant noticed that the fire seemed to be spreading this way.

“Run, run fast!”

He turned around and took off at a sprint.