( Notice: The MC is from Silvara, a country in Northeast Asia ) “Hey, Old Xie, WoW’s back.
You in?” “What?
You’ve got to take care of the kid?
Alright then.” “Hey, Rabbit!
WoW’s back.
Let’s do this!” “What the hell?
You’re that busy too?
Fine, fine.” “Hey~~~~…” After making a round of calls, Rowan Ashford realized that all his former comrades had long since retired from the battlefield.
Life’s responsibilities had tied them down, leaving them unable to fight anymore.
“Sigh…
Looks like I’m on my own.
Guess I’ll log in and take a look.” Rowan let out a disappointed sigh.
Ever since World of Warcraft entered the Silvarise market in 2005, Rowan—then a college student—had been adventuring across Azeroth.
He had witnessed the excitement of the Gates of Ahn’Qiraj opening.
He had secretly looked down on that guild leader who abandoned his friends for a Brotherhood sword—though, admittedly, he had wanted it too.
He fought alongside Alliance comrades from Outland all the way to the frozen wastes of Northrend.
He had battled demon hunters and beaten down a rebellious son who murdered his own father.
He survived the devastation brought by Deathwing and journeyed to the mysterious continent of Pandaria, where he spent plenty of time hanging around pandas.
He had charged into battle beside Alliance leaders and had even waved banners behind the Queen’s backside at one point.
Starting with his very first class, the Druid, and continuing through Death Knights and every class that followed, Rowan had played them all.
From the moment he learned riding at level twenty and bought his first horse, he had devoted himself to collecting mounts.
Back in the day, he nearly bankrupted himself farming Karazhan for Midnight.
For Invincible, he beat the rebellious prince so many times the guy practically turned over a new leaf.
As for Ashes of Al’ar, Prince Kael’thas was probably ready to abdicate the throne from sheer exhaustion.
It was no exaggeration to say that World of Warcraft had become an irreplaceable part of Rowan’s youth.
But as the years passed, expansion after expansion brought more content, yet somehow less enjoyment.
The number of friends playing gradually dwindled as well.
Then came the final blow.
The company shut down operations in Silvara.
And with that, Rowan’s journey through Azeroth came to an end.
Until this year.
World of Warcraft returned.
And the version being launched was Wrath of the Lich King—the expansion many players considered the greatest in the game’s history.
Naturally, Rowan immediately started contacting old friends, preparing for another campaign across Azeroth.
Unfortunately, reality had other plans.
Some comrades had surrendered to life.
Others had already fallen.
In the end, Rowan marched into Azeroth alone.
After daydreaming for a while, he opened the freshly downloaded game client.
The familiar interface.
The familiar classes.
The familiar queue screen.
“Damn it!
They really brought back the queue too?” Staring at the estimated three-hour wait time, Rowan exploded.
“Seriously?
We waited for hours back then, and we’re still waiting for hours now?
This relaunch is way too authentic!” Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do.
This wasn’t some mouse-themed amusement park where you could buy a VIP ticket and skip the line.
All he could do was wait patiently.
When he finally entered the server, Rowan thought for a moment.
“Alliance it is.” A wicked grin spread across his face.
“Heh-heh-heh.
Horde pigs!
Prepare yourselves for the wrath of the Alliance!” As for his class?
Druid, of course.
His all-time favorite.
The moment he entered the game, nostalgia hit him like a truck.
One monster surrounded by five players.
Quest mobs fought over for ages.
Yep.
That familiar feeling.
As a veteran player with countless years of experience, Rowan confidently began completing quest after quest— Like hell he did.
Everyone playing at launch was a veteran too.
Each player fought for mobs with terrifying efficiency.
Finding quest targets became a battle in itself.
One hundred years later~~~~~ After several hours of hard work, Rowan finally reached level fifteen.
Dungeon access unlocked.
At last, he no longer had to fight those animals for quest mobs.
Random Dungeon Finder had originally been introduced to speed up gameplay and eliminate the hassle of manually assembling groups.
Players could simply queue up, let the system match teammates automatically, and enjoy convenient dungeon runs.
At least, that was the theory.
Reality was another story entirely.
Over the next few days, Rowan experienced the dungeon finder’s malice firsthand.
While questing, everyone played like elite veterans.
But once he entered a random dungeon…
What kind of creatures were these?
Tanks who couldn’t hold aggro.
Healers who couldn’t heal.
Damage dealers who stood still like training dummies.
Players who got lost.
Players who ran around pulling extra packs and wiping the entire group.
Honestly, Rowan felt that these random dungeons were harder than the progression raids he had struggled through years ago.
Finally, after more than a week of grinding, he reached max level.
Letting out a relieved breath, Rowan began farming raid gear.
However…
One night, after yet another all-night raid session…
“Damn it, you absolute idiot loot goblin!” Rowan jumped to his feet in fury.
“You’re a cloth-wearing mage!
Why the hell are you rolling Need on leather gear?!” His blood pressure skyrocketed.
Grabbing his keyboard, he nearly smashed it against the desk.
Then everything suddenly went black.
The last thought that crossed his mind was: “Guess I’m too old to pull all-nighters now…” Who knew how much time had passed.
“It’s so hot…” Rowan felt as if his entire body had been thrown into a giant furnace.
Scorching heat surrounded him from every direction.
His skin burned.
His lips were cracked.
His throat felt like it had been roasted by flames.
“Am I…
dead?” Weakly opening his eyes, Rowan struggled upright from a pile of sand.
Sand.
Sand everywhere.
Beside him stood a massive dune.
“A desert?” He stared blankly at his surroundings.
“Did I go to hell or something?” Confusion filled his face.
He hadn’t done anything particularly evil.
Why would he end up in hell?
Licking his dry lips, Rowan began climbing the dune.
After a difficult ascent, he finally reached the top and looked into the distance.
What greeted him was an endless expanse of desert and rocky wasteland.
It looked nothing like the hell he had imagined.
“Did I get transmigrated?” Rowan frowned.
“Whatever.
Staying alive comes first.
I need to find water.” After crossing another dune, he suddenly spotted a patch of green on the horizon.
“An oasis?
Or a mirage?” His eyes lit up.
“Either way, I’ve got to check.
If I stay here, I’m dead anyway.” Licking his cracked lips again, Rowan slowly made his way toward it.
About half an hour later, the patch of green grew larger.
The scenery gradually became clearer.
“It’s an oasis!” Excitement surged through him, and he quickened his pace.
Another half hour passed.
Finally, the oasis stood fully revealed before his eyes.
“I’m saved!
Thank heavens!” Tears nearly streamed down Rowan’s face.