Azeroth Chronicles

In the Beijun Valley, a time traveler opened his eyes and found that he had become the lowest level of the militia. There is no background, no connections, the equipment is a gray quality wooden stick, and the salary is five copper coins per night. The camp director Grave gave him the worst night patrol, and three old men took him to the edge of the Northland, but no one took him seriously. Until that night, the jackal ambush tore off his arm and the truth of the world—— At the moment of death, a translucent system panel appeared in the field of vision. Level, health, anger, skills, and equipment quality are all things he is familiar with. But this is not a game. Broken bones will really hurt, and bleeding will really kill you. Chen Lie survived, not by destiny, but by luck when a knife was stabbed into the jackal's throat. From North County to Stormwind City, from militiamen to adventurers, from gray wooden sticks to epic weapons, he wants to use the system panel to see the rules of this world clearly, and then step on the rules one by one. Azeroth does not believe in the weak, but it will remember everyone who insists on living.