The fisherman druid is in another world

Chapter 735

Black Rob isn't the type to just get the place going regardless of whether it's useful or not.

He only calls upon his generals when he needs them.

Since it's a selection of generals, it means there are generals to select.

In the past, this person might have been born from a demonic soul, or an outstanding individual, or even a destined person (No. 7 or No. 9).

Now, he prefers to create his own alternate accounts.

After all, having one's soul permanently residing on the old divine warship is far more depressing than sitting at an office or staying at home.

However, after a long period of quiet, he also needs to be active and balance work and rest. He also has a need to go out for a walk to regulate his mood.

Black Rob has no shortage of spare bodies. The Old Day has a special compartment for cultivating bodies that are highly compatible with his soul, but with different supernatural attributes.

Of course, no one can compare to Victor right now.

By chance and by sheer luck, one may obtain results beyond expectations, far exceeding the potential gains from meticulous preparation.

However, in terms of consistent performance, systematic training is undoubtedly more advantageous.

This advantage will also be an advantage for number 3.

Although No. 3's combat power ceiling cannot be compared with No. 1, there is no worry about a substitute, and it can be quickly replaced when it breaks.

With this advantage, there is naturally another set of strategies to leverage it.

For example, one could act even more recklessly.

After all, being fearless of death is undoubtedly a very good trigger condition for exceeding one's combat power.

Black Rob's consciousness awoke from the body numbered 3-1, and his first feeling was a long-lost weakness.

It's like a normal person suddenly becoming blind, breaking a leg, and developing asthma.

Black Robb then realized just how 'crippled' he had become after using the cheat for so long.

He has always been aware of this and considered himself to be sufficiently vigilant.

"External aids are like crutches, just as smartphones are for modern people, or even more so."

It is something that can be known, but that is all.

Did he do anything about it?
not at all.

This could be considered an unusual outburst of anger, but it was just a brief moment of rage.

Now that I've finally condescended to do so, I understand how much the corrosive power of "hanging" can be.

He was referring to the old support pendant, the guardian pendant, and the natural authority pendant.

He didn't have these things at the beginning. When he first entered the scene, his extraordinary abilities could be summed up in one sentence: he was like an unconventional original blood vampire.

Then, the power of nature was first granted, assisting the god of nature in creating the dark hell.

Then came the Guardian's Pendant, which made all laws compatible and biased towards it.

Finally, there's the Great Old One, who, during the Hellgate event, awakened his Old One bloodline by utilizing the distorted void of the world's wounds.

He had unconsciously adapted to all of this and no longer felt anything about it.

Until now, the alternative has been brought back to its original form.

The times did not allow it, and the power of the external plug-in was given to the higher-priority divine kingdom warships. Therefore, these small-batch produced clones were merely products of extraordinary technology and did not involve much of the concept of laws. This is why there was such a big difference between luxury and frugality.

However, reflections could be savored slowly while traveling or carrying out missions; first, he got moving. Black Rob quickly put aside his distracting thoughts and unnecessary emotions, throwing himself into the disaster relief effort.

Since this delivery wasn't to a colossal object like the No. 1, which could be viewed from a superhuman perspective, it could be done more quickly and accurately, because the energy consumption and related calculations were on a completely different scale.

After Black Rob finished teleporting, it only took him fifteen minutes to reach the mission point, Frozen Canyon.

The latitude here is similar to that of Afrin, both being in the northern part of the Pan-Northern Continent. However, due to geographical reasons, the climate here is more polar, with the world covered in silver and snow.

However, this is not the main reason why humanity trapped here has been able to effectively combat the plague to some extent. Black Rob's main purpose in coming here is to confirm the cause. Once the truth is found and proven to have widespread value, it will undoubtedly be of great help to the global disaster relief efforts.

"stop!"

"Don't move!"

"Don't move, or I'll shoot!"

Upon seeing Black Rob, the guards started talking all at once, clearly indicating they weren't from a regular military unit. In a regular military unit, in such situations, a designated spokesperson would handle the negotiations.

"Don't shoot, I'm alive and well. I'm not infected." Black Rob raised his hands.

"Stand there and don't move, keep your hands up!"

"Alright, alright." Black Rob showed an obedient attitude, as if he was prepared to bow his head since he was going to live under someone else's roof.

"Name, where are you from? Why are you here?"

“Olav, a native of Silkburg, came here through an introduction; the man’s name is Oren.”

Upon hearing Black Rob's words, one of the guards couldn't help but ask, "You saw Oren? How is he now?"

"Stop arguing, everyone. Behave yourselves. In the boss's words, where is your discipline?"

Being publicly criticized made these people lose face, and they immediately retorted, leading to a fight among six or seven people.

Black Rob looked annoyed.

He would consider himself inferior if he even glanced at such a bunch of scoundrels.

From a certain perspective, it is now that I need something from the other party; life's encounters are sometimes just that wonderful.

Black Rob, with his hands raised, was left hanging for more than ten minutes before someone remembered him. A burly man approached, looked him up and down with a wolf-like, cold and sharp gaze, and sneered, "You have a wastelander's name, but you are not a wastelander."

“I spent my childhood in Holm and learned my skills in Skywer.”

Holm is a port city, while Skaver is located next to an active volcano. To describe these two places in one sentence, they are both extremely difficult places with very poor living conditions.

“But you just said you’re from Silkburg.”

Black Rob grinned and said, "Fur goods, caravans, I thought that with your memory, perhaps someone would recognize me."

"Your slick tone is indeed characteristic of Holm people, but you have a proper wasteland name, which you gave yourself to try and get on their good side?"

The smile on Black Rob's face gradually faded: "Listen, I'm not here to seek your protection, but to deliver something to that man named Oren."

"If I could get a hot dinner and a warm bed to sleep in, I would be grateful. If not, I can leave immediately once the things are delivered to the right person." The burly man snorted and scoffed, "Don't give me that. Where's the stuff? Don't touch it, I'll get it myself."

Black Rob's demeanor darkened further. He still had the same eyebrows and eyes, but he looked very different from before. Now he gave people a sinister feeling, like a lone wolf wandering the wasteland.

The burly man had been observing Black Rob's reactions and changes, and then laughed: "Someone like you won't last long in Holm or Skywar, but you do have a bit of a Wastelander vibe. I admit you have half Wastelander blood."

The Wasteland People are basically savages who spend all day bragging about "Give me liberty or give me death."

From Black Rob's perspective, what he disliked about the Wastelanders wasn't their plundering, burning, killing, and looting, but rather their awkwardness—their desire to be close to civilization yet their fear and disdain for everything.

Like a wild beast that roams the night, it is attracted by the fire, but if it gets too close, it will be startled and burned.

If it were truly a wild and untamed style, full of pride and arrogance, maintaining and developing it, he might actually admire it. But isn't it just a gradual assimilation, ultimately stemming from the human tendency towards extravagance, debauchery, and wanting more?

Because he understood these semi-civilized savages to some extent, Black Rob knew that if he compromised with them, he would only suffer more humiliation.

In their own words, "Hard bones, soft flesh, that's what makes a person human."

To put it simply, there needs to be a balance between being soft and being hard. As for what constitutes the right balance, that's hard to define and depends on the specific circumstances.

Anyway, the persona that Black Rob is playing now is that of a man of his word. He comes to deliver things, while also trying to take advantage of the situation and rest for a night. It's okay to bow down appropriately, but it's unacceptable to suffer endless humiliation. On the one hand, it doesn't make sense logically, and on the other hand, his strength doesn't allow it.

Olaf means "inheritor," but what did he inherit? A typical Wastelander would say it's a characteristic unique to Wastelanders, but Black Robo would say, "Of course, it's power!"

Shortly after making a show of force and expressing a tough stance, Black Robb met the "big sister" these people were talking about, a tough woman with fiery red hair.

Standing at 1.8 meters tall, he might not be considered particularly burly, but his physique is certainly comparable to that of an average man.

The hair on both sides of her head was shaved off, and the hair on top of her head was braided into five braids and tied at the back of her head.

He actually has a fairly decent appearance, but he has large pores and a noticeable scar, which makes him look very wild.

This woman named Olga was clearly more cautious than the group of rough men. She always stood upwind, and throughout the entire process of receiving the mailbox, opening it, and reading it, she maintained the state of 'powerful hand'.

The letterbox was real, and Oren was a real person, but he entrusted it not to Black Rob, but to a soul-possessed puppet.

The Soul-Possessed Puppet leads the Soul-Imitation Puppets in disaster relief and meets Oren, who is gathering intelligence.

Afterwards, Oren encountered trouble, succumbed to his injuries, and died tragically. On his deathbed, he entrusted Oren with the task of delivering the letter back to Olga in the Frozen Canyon if possible.

This became the entry point that Black Robb chose.

After all, Olga was active in the disaster area without being infected by the plague, and this was not an isolated case. According to him, Olga successfully organized a wave of evacuations from the disaster area.

So where exactly does the secret lie?
As Oren said, are the souls of the wasteland people nobler?
To be honest, there is a high possibility that this is one of the reasons.

After all, when the ancestors of mankind made a pact with the gods, it was not all human tribes or branches, but the main ethnic group.

Following this logic, there are indeed some humans who have maintained the purity of their racial bloodline to this day, without intermarrying with any dominant ethnic group, and thus are not subject to the 'descendant loan' curse.

But Black Rob felt that this was not the whole story. After all, the plague was not just a simple curse; it had both supernatural and mortal characteristics. Given the cultural level of the wasteland people, would you believe that they all had first-class knowledge of disease prevention?

Therefore, there must be some other situation he is unaware of.

This is the main reason why he planned to spend one night in the temporary refugee group led by Olga. He felt that one night's observations and understanding should be enough to figure things out.

Olga opened the letterbox and read it in front of Black Rob, then said to him, "Hot food and a warm bed, you will get them."

After saying that, he didn't say anything more, but before leaving, he gave the burly man a few simple instructions.

Soon after, Black Rob realized that his plan had backfired.

A large bowl of delicious stewed meat, plus flatbread. There was also a seemingly unremarkable but very well-made fur sleeping bag, the kind that would keep you soundly asleep even in the freezing cold.

It can be said that Olga met his needs without any compromise.

What he really wanted was to stay overnight in the refugee corps, the kind where he could wander around a bit. But that didn't happen at all; he was assigned to rest at the sentry post!

If it were number 1, even without force, there would be plenty of ways to accomplish the observation he wanted.

But number 3 is not suitable; it doesn't support him in terms of ability.

After some thought, Black Rob didn't add any more tricks or schemes, but instead proceeded with his usual routine, while activating 3-2.

This is another advantage of controlling ordinary clones: you don't need to be fully engaged; instead, you can allocate the weight as needed.
Intense mental exertion, including extraordinary combat, is level one; performing non-combat missions, observing and thinking, and communicating with others, which involve a lot of mental exertion, is level two; daily life is level three; and rest and sleep are level one.

If all are at level 1, Black Robo can support three players at level 3 online simultaneously.

So while Olaf ate and drank his fill and fell into a deep sleep, Blackrobo rode his 3-2 to roam in another region hundreds of miles away.

The research topic remains the same: to find the secret of how certain humans are immune to the plague.

The home ground, 3-2, is the prison.

Shortly after the plague broke out, the warden disappeared, the guards fled, and the prisoners rioted.

This is not surprising in itself; around the world, there are probably tens of thousands of similar incidents occurring in just 48 hours.

However, after the riot, Lennarzer Prison became a refuge from the plague, giving it a sense of 'while all else perishes, I alone rise high'.

The leader of this prison shelter, also a Wastelander, was not just interesting to Black Rob, but rather dazzling.

Unlike the Frozen Valley, there is no entry point for Lennarzer Prison.

However, Black Rob felt that they could learn from the lessons of the Frozen Valley.

When dealing with the people of the wasteland, especially in this context, there's no need to be too subtle. Let's be direct: we're here to seek ways to ward off the evil plague.

Although he believed that even the Wastelanders themselves did not really understand the reasons.

But this is just his opinion; let's hear what the people of the wasteland have to say.
Even if he can provide some directional guidance, he can use his own methods to disprove it in order to seek the truth.

With this mindset, 3-2 was more like a fierce general challenging the enemy alone. Just then, night fell, and the entire prison looked dark from the outside, like a giant beast lying on the ground. Only in the open space thirty steps in front of the prison gate were two bonfires set up.

When Black Robb reached the area between the two campfires, he was certain that at least ten ranged weapons were aimed at him from the top of the fortified prison gate and from the arrow towers on either side of the gate.

The people of the wasteland did not perish, and their martial prowess was naturally not lacking. Their small society was characterized by the strong predator-prey mentality, resulting in a fierce and martial spirit. They also possessed traditional shamanistic skills and a decent learning ability.

For example, alchemical firearms did not originate in their society, but the impression given by the Wastelanders is that anyone who uses a gun is of high quality.

Not only are they accurate shooters, but they also have all sorts of fancy skills, making them no less skilled than the extraordinary marksman group whose alchemy skills are deeply integrated into their marksmanship.

Therefore, Black Rob knew that these dozen or so Wasteland Gunmen posed a significant threat to his Series 3 clones.

But he was bold and reckless, displaying great fearlessness, and shouted, "I have come seeking a way to prevent the plague. I know you have it, and I must obtain it to survive, so that I can avenge those who spread the plague!"

(End of this chapter)