Legendary Prisoner

When Lin Yue woke up, he found himself standing on the stone road of Ginkgo Village. The sunshine is real, the wind is real, and the aroma of oil wafting from the roadside bun shop is real. He could touch the rough scabbard of the wooden sword, feel the red mark left by the wax dripping from the candle on the back of his hand, and hear hundreds of players shouting about teaming up, bargaining, and cursing all around him at the same time - the sound was lively and lively. He is a veteran player of ten years. He knows every corner of the world. But he shouldn't be "here". Others wore helmets—and got offline when they wanted. He can't. When he called out the system menu, the "Exit Game" column was blank, as if someone had erased it with an eraser. He didn't know how he got in, he didn't know how long he had been unconscious, and he didn't know if he still had a body outside. He only knows one thing - when other players die, they will be resurrected in three seconds with a flash of white light. He didn't know if he would be able to open his eyes after he died. In this world that is more real, cruel, and poorer than version 1.76 - No recharge, no mall, teleportation fees too expensive for the poor to afford, and potions that are really painful to drink - his only advantage is that he has been a legend for ten years. He knows the refresh point of each map, the attack interval of each monster, and the minimum explosion rate of each skill book. But strength is also fear. Because he knows very well how dangerous this world is. He wants to live. He wants to make money in the game - exchange it for real money - and give it to the person who doesn't know if he is still waiting for him. He wants to go home.