Chapter 5: Anyone There? Heal Me a Bit

After shouting that sentence, Shi Hanfeng shivered all over.

Luckily, no one was around.

Otherwise, he’d be the embarrassed one.

This wasn’t him playing the fool.

He was already in another world, so it was only normal to be careful.

Using a fake name to avoid being written into some little notebook was just common sense.

Handsome or not, sometimes you still have to lay low.

Once his self-entertainment ended, he quickly calmed down.

The mission target was indeed to slay Goblins.

But the problem was—where were the Goblins?

The forest was so vast, and at night, pitch black.

If you couldn’t even tell east from west, what was the difference between wandering out and lighting a lantern in a bathroom?

He definitely didn’t want to be written on the first page of the Beginner Village’s Burial Note, under the title: .

Staring at the dancing campfire, Shi Hanfeng decided to camp in place for the night.

The mission time was a whole month—no need to rush.

The camp was so flimsy it might collapse with a gust of wind, but since someone had set it up here, it was probably safe—at least a thousand times safer than stumbling into an unknown forest in the dark.

With nothing else to do, he once again summoned the faint blue screen floating in the corner of his vision and looked at his character panel.

He’d just gained a template, another tool for survival, so he had to figure it out properly.

[Destiny Apostle: Shi Hanfeng (LV1) (0/300)]

[Skills: Universal Language LV1, Raksasa Template (LV1)]

[Base Attributes: Strength 16, Agility 16, Constitution 16, Intelligence 16, Spirit 16, Charisma 18]

The panel was still fairly simple.

The experience after the Destiny Apostle level probably related to the Destiny experience rewarded from missions.

As for whether there were other ways to gain it, he could ask Miss Ling Shan’er later.

After experimenting for a while, Shi Hanfeng found that most items on the panel could be clicked with his mind for more details.

Clicking on [Universal Language LV1] brought up a more detailed explanation.

[Universal Language LV1: You can understand and speak the languages of non-extraordinary beings and beasts.]

He then tapped the golden [Raksasa Template (LV1)]:

[Raksasa Template LV1: Gold/Epic. Comes with skills: Judgment Swordsmanship (Advanced), Wish of the White Flower (Single-target Healing/Purification), Cycle of Vitality (Small Area Continuous Healing/Aura), Wish of Burial (Area Damage/Enemy Buff Removal). Higher levels unlock more advanced abilities.]

Looking over it all, it truly deserved to be a golden template.

No skill restrictions, extra abilities, status removal, group healing, dispels—it had everything.

But the phrase “Higher levels unlock advanced abilities” reminded him of those constellation systems in games that drove perfectionists crazy.

So even in another world, you won’t let me go?

Hajimi, you bastard.

His gaze fell to the attribute section.

Shi Hanfeng, who had played countless games, accepted these terms easily.

Just treat Spirit as the blue bar.

A base Raksasa template nearly maxed out ordinary human limits.

A full Raksasa might be able to punch him into two pancakes.

So this is the pain of learning medicine but being unable to save the world?

I love it.

He wasn’t sure if the stats followed DND rules, but it didn’t really look like it.

If it did, 18 points would be the human limit.

Suddenly, a certain Ciel came to mind—not the one with the scythe, but that man whose speeches could sweep a whole crowd.

His Charisma value was probably about 17-18, too.

The average human attribute was generally 10 points.

His starting panel, without cheats or intense training, was only 1 to 2 points above normal.

Even with ten years of training, he might not have reached this level.

No wonder people say cheating feels good.

And cheating all the time feels even better!

The ancients didn’t deceive me!

He then shifted his attention to the skill list.

The skills attached to Raksasa all had fancy names—【Judgment Swordsmanship】, 【Wish of the White Flower】, 【Cycle of Vitality】.

Especially 【Wish of the White Flower】 and 【Cycle of Vitality】—these were legendary healing skills that could turn a healer from version 1.1 to 3.0!

Shi Hanfeng had a thought.

Should he try one out on himself to test the effect?

He raised his fingertips slightly, focusing his will.

A gentle, pure green light quietly blossomed in his palm.

As the glow spread, a few ethereal white flowers slowly spun and bloomed within.

The moment the light enveloped his whole body—

“Ahh………………”

Shi Hanfeng almost moaned from comfort.

It was like soaking in a top-class hot spring on a freezing winter day, every cell in his body sighing with satisfaction.

Warm, soft, light…

Bliss!

However, after the pleasure, he realized something was wrong.

“The sleepiness is gone?”

Shi Hanfeng suddenly noticed a crucial detail.

He had randomly cast “Wish of the White Flower” on himself to test its healing, but since he had no wounds, he couldn’t measure the heal.

Still, as that warmth washed through him, the fatigue from staying up vanished like it had been erased.

He felt alert enough to run a marathon.

He looked down at the faint green glow left in his palm, then up at the starry sky.

Could this skill work like caffeine, too?

“This is outrageous.”

He finally understood, half amused and half exasperated.

“Does this skill’s status cleansing even remove physiological needs like drowsiness?”

He then tested Cycle of Vitality.

This barrier-like skill consumed about one point per minute—twice the cost of healing—but it was continuous and all depended on your hand speed in combat.

It would be extremely useful in actual fights.

Unfortunately, there were no targets to practice on right now.

With his drowsiness gone and the panel thoroughly studied, and with no phone to bring into another world, what could he do to pass a long night?

Bored enough to sprout mushrooms, Shi Hanfeng’s gaze fell on the ancient-looking, thick-bladed Novice Weapon: Blunt Sword at his side.

“With nothing to do… might as well practice?”

The part of his mind belonging to “Raksasa” began to stir.

He stood, gripping the rough hilt of the Blunt Sword.

It didn’t feel heavy, and with his current 16 Strength, it even seemed a bit light.

Recalling the swordsmanship in his mind, his body seemed guided by invisible threads, naturally taking up a stance.

A clean, swift thrust.

His arm extended like a bowstring.

Next came a rapid backhand parry, his balance steady as a rock.

His wrist twisted, and the heavy Blunt Sword somehow danced with surprising lightness.

His footwork moved with a rhythm etched deep into his bones.

Slash, sweep, flick, guide…

Each move was efficient and simple, without unnecessary motion, yet exuding an indescribable calm and grace.

Even if he was swinging an unopened hunk of iron, it couldn’t hide the tempering of countless drills.

“Elegant. Too elegant!”

Shi Hanfeng couldn’t help but mentally praise Raksasa.

“But this sword… sigh, it’s like a fire poker. Doesn’t match the technique at all.”

Shi Hanfeng lost himself in the practice.

The campfire flickered, stretching and shrinking his dancing silhouette on the surrounding tree trunks, like a silent shadow puppet in a play.

Time slipped by in monotonous repetition, sweat soaking the collar of his combat uniform.

Only when his wrist began to ache did Shi Hanfeng stop, standing upright with a long sigh, feeling his body and template become just a bit more synchronized.

“Phew… At this rate, it’ll be the year of the monkey before I can slice light across nineteen continents in one strike…”

He wiped non-existent sweat from his brow, about to sit and continue counting stars—

Rustle rustle…

Suddenly, the nearby bushes shook violently!

The sound of leaves scraping against each other echoed in the silent night.

Shi Hanfeng’s pupils contracted, adrenaline surging.

His right hand shot out, grabbing the Blunt Sword stuck in the ground and bringing it across his body.

His left hand spread, green light faintly gathering in his palm.

He had no coffin, but Raksasa’s ultimate moves were still usable.

If the enemy wasn’t human, he’d loosen them up with two ultimates first.

“Who’s there!”

The glow of the campfire illuminated the surroundings, barely outlining three staggering figures bursting forth.

Leading was a burly man in worn chainmail, a bushy beard on his face.

He leaned on a chipped longsword like a cane, panting heavily.

Behind him, another warrior-dressed companion with a scarred face was half-dragging, half-supporting someone.

The person being carried wore dark, tight leather armor—a classic thief look—now limp as a rag.

The black cloth covering his face was soaked with sweat, sticking to his mouth and nose.

One leg dangled uselessly, and dark fluid spread from his thigh, dripping onto dead leaves with a faint, sickly-sweet, and rotten scent.

All three were in rough shape, clearly having been through something bad.

The bearded leader halted, startled by the sudden appearance of a golden-haired beauty by the campfire, his bloodshot eyes filled with wariness and exhaustion.

He instinctively tightened his grip on the broken sword, eyes quickly scanning the stranger’s unfamiliar dark clothing and odd sword.

The atmosphere froze, broken only by the injured thief’s pained groans.

Hans licked his cracked lips, his hoarse voice heavy with caution.

“Friend! I’m Hans, a Black Iron Adventurer!”

He pointed to the thief on the ground.

“This is our camp! If you’re just passing through, you’re welcome! But my brother can’t hold on much longer! Can we pass?”

His gaze was locked on Shi Hanfeng, especially the green glow in his left hand.

Shi Hanfeng’s nerves relaxed slightly.

Not a beast.

Judging by their miserable state, they didn’t seem like bandits lying in wait, either.

He slowly lowered his left hand, letting the green light fade.

At the same time, recalling the posture of church knights from Raksasa’s memories, he turned the Blunt Sword’s tip down with his right hand, touching it to the ground, body inclined in a standard chest salute.

By the fire.

“Forgive me, Sir Hans.”

His clear voice was calm.

“I am Raksasa. Due to some accidents, I ended up here. It was not my intention to occupy your camp.”

He stepped aside, making a “please” gesture toward the path closest to the fire.

“Since this is your camp, help yourselves. Your friend’s injuries don’t look good.”

Hans and his companion Gelte exchanged glances, seeing confusion and a hint of relief in each other’s eyes.

This golden-haired youth was overly courteous, and every move he made screamed he wasn’t an ordinary person.

But this wasn’t the time to worry!

“Thank you! Sir Raksasa!”

Hans dropped all formalities, and with Gelte’s help, quickly dragged the barely-conscious thief to the fire.

“Jemie! Jemie! Hold on!”

Gelte anxiously slapped Jemie’s pale face, fumbling to unwrap the dirty, blood-soaked bandage from his thigh.

As soon as it was removed, a stronger stench spread.

By the firelight, a torn wound—almost a bite mark—was visible on both sides of Jemie’s thigh, deep enough to reveal bone.

The flesh was twisted, the edges tinged an unsettling dark green.

“Damn it! The trap was poisoned…!”

Hans slammed his fist into the ground, eyes red.

“We’re out of potions. Gelte, water! Hurry, wash it out!”

Gelte scrambled for the waterskin at his waist, hands shaking as he rinsed the wound.

Shi Hanfeng stood quietly nearby.

It was a nasty wound.

The damage was too widespread, and the skin color suggested poisoning.

The victim didn’t seem to have superhuman endurance, either—he might not last until morning.

His emerald eyes flickered.

“Sir Hans.”

Shi Hanfeng’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through Jemie’s pained groans and Gelte’s frantic movements.

Hans looked up, bloodshot eyes full of exhausted despair.

“Sir Raksasa, what is it?”

“I know a little healing magic.”

Shi Hanfeng replied calmly—not out of modesty, but because he truly only knew this one healing spell.

“Your friend seems badly hurt, and since I’ve borrowed your camp, if you don’t mind, may I try?”

He gestured toward the suffering Jemie.

“Healing magic?”

Hans and Gelte cried out together.

Hans’s voice trembled with disbelief and hope.

“You’re a priest?”

Who could understand the feeling of rolling a wild healer when your party was in crisis with no medicine left?

Shi Hanfeng didn’t answer, just gave a slight nod.

He knelt beside Jemie, gazing at the twisted wound.

“How did this happen?”

He hovered his fingers above the wound, ready to test the limits of his healing.

“It was a Goblin trap,” Gelte answered quickly, sounding strange.

“If it weren’t so late, Jemie would never have stepped into such a crude snare, and we’d already run out of potions. Damn those trash creatures.”

Shi Hanfeng nodded—an unexpected discovery.

He reached out his right hand, fingers spread, and hovered it over Jemie’s thigh wound.

In his palm, a gentle, pure green light flared.

At its center, the faint image of a white flower slowly spun and bloomed.

Emerald radiance poured like a spring over Jemie’s mangled flesh.

The twisted, blackened, pus-oozing skin seemed gently smoothed by invisible hands.

The necrotic darkness vanished before his eyes, like snow melting in the sun.

Swollen, reddened areas deflated like popped balloons, returning to normal color.

Inside the gaping wound, fresh new tissue rapidly sprouted and knit together as if on fast-forward.

Splat.

Strings of foul, black blood and pus were squeezed out by the healing force.

Within seconds, the wound that had nearly claimed Jemie’s life was gone.

In its place was a patch of soft, fresh skin.

Even his face, pale as paper from pain and blood loss, regained some color.

His furrowed brow eased, painful groans turning into calm breaths.

Perhaps exhausted, he slipped into sleep.

Goodnight, Makabaka.

Suddenly, by the campfire, only the crackling of burning wood and Jemie’s steady breathing remained.

Hans and Gelte stood frozen like petrified statues, a strange silence hanging over them.

As adventurers, you could say they were rookies, but they had basic common sense.

If they could have recruited a priest or mage, who would want such a weird party?

Even a priest who could only heal minor wounds would be in high demand.

But this?

Instant cast!

No need for prayers!

This effect surpassed basic healing, no, even intermediate healing spells!

And you call this “a little” healing magic?