But he also wanted to add to Intelligence, since activating the second hidden attribute of the purple limit required 5 points in Intelligence.

After much hesitation, reason prevailed, and he added the attribute point to Strength. With this, William Carter now had three points in Strength, five points in Attack, and fifty-seven points in Health.

If he encountered a demonic dire wolf again, it wouldn’t be as miserable as last time.

After resting for a bit and calming the excitement of leveling up, William Carter cleared a large patch of grass, lit six campfires, then set up racks over the fires and placed six whole sheep to roast.

He brushed oil on one, sprinkled salt on another, and before long, the aroma was wafting everywhere.

What was William Carter doing? Of course, he was luring wolves.

Luring wolves to kill them? Of course not. Although William Carter believed in “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” in his current state, killing wolves was still a stretch. He was luring wolves to convert them.

His Holy Persuasion had just leveled up, now enough to convert a demonic dire wolf.

William Carter had long coveted the command aura skill of the demonic dire wolf.

But the sheep were almost burnt to ashes, and still no wolves had come.

William Carter took a big fan and kept fanning the aroma into the distance. Finally, the first sheep couldn’t withstand the long roasting and started to blacken, then the second, then the third.

By the time the last sheep was roasting, it was already evening. Only then did William Carter hear a low beastly growl. Delighted, he muttered, “Damn it, I’ve waited so long the moon’s out!”

Cursing, William Carter looked into the distance, but his expression froze. A monster had come, but it wasn’t a wolf.

A blue fatty, three meters tall and three meters around the waist, with thick, rubbery fat all over, was carrying two heads on its shoulders. One head had a foot-long sharp horn, the other had half a foot of tusks protruding from its mouth.

Its thick arms were shackled with heavy iron rings, covered in spikes.

In its hand was a square iron club. If that thing hit your head, you’d be mashed potatoes.

In the game, blue fatties seemed comical and cute, whether walking or making noises, nothing like the ferocious ogres they were. But in reality, William Carter couldn’t laugh at all.

A sense of foreboding rose in his heart. He tried Holy Persuasion, and a hoarse prompt sounded: “Monster level too high, cannot be converted.”

Damn, just as I thought!

He cautiously watched the ogre mage’s every move, while carefully checking its stats.

Young Two-Headed Ogre Mage.

Level: 11.

Just seeing the name made William Carter want to curse. This is called “young”?

Attack: 9–10, Attack Type: Normal Attack.

Armor: 5, Armor Type: Heavy Armor.

Attack Speed: Slow.

Health: 350 points.

Movement Speed: Ten meters per second.

Skill: Bloodlust.

Makes a unit go berserk, increasing its attack speed by 20% and movement speed by 5% for 20 seconds.

Mana Cost: 10 points.

At first, seeing those stats, William Carter was in despair. But when he saw the movement speed was only ten meters per second, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

If I can’t beat it, at least I can run.

Ride a sheep and escape.

William Carter wasn’t about to risk it. This wasn’t about courage, it was about not being stupid.

He didn’t have any invincibility aura. He often saw this line in novels: “The greater the risk, the greater the reward.” In William Carter’s view, that was bullshit.

What are novels? With the way protagonists take risks, if one out of a thousand survives, that’s already lucky. The other nine hundred ninety-nine become dust, and only the one is remembered as a legend.

That’s a novel.

It’s all a lie. I’m not about to be one of those nine hundred ninety-nine.

William Carter was running happily when suddenly he heard the wind whistling behind him. He turned to look, and a club was getting bigger and bigger. Before he could react, everything went black. William Carter clutched his nose as he flew out, tumbling to the ground like a ball, bouncing and rolling seven or eight times before plunging headfirst into a pond on the grassland. With a splash, William Carter was completely dazed, his health dropping by eighteen points. (Critical hit to the head, increased damage.)

Ignoring the dizziness in his head, he scrambled out of the pond, his face covered in blood, his nose completely collapsed, with no feeling at all.

The mud in the pond was too deep. William Carter felt himself sinking, but after the battle with the demonic dire wolf, his mental fortitude had greatly improved. He didn’t even feel much fear now; instead, he felt a surge of heroic spirit—knowing there are tigers on the mountain, yet still heading for the mountain.

Damn it, I’ll risk it today and write my own legend for a while!

The ogre mage charged over, howling, its whole body glowing with blood-red light—clearly using the Bloodlust skill.

The demonic antelope charged forward, its sharp horns barely piercing the ogre mage’s belly. Five points of armor was no joke.

So what should William Carter do now? Go help the antelope? That ogre mage was thick-skinned and tough. William Carter figured even if he charged in, he wouldn’t make much difference.