The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin

In the barren desert, the black-armored commander was frantically fleeing.

Unlike cannon fodders, he, as a commander, possessed greater critical thinking and more comprehensive judgment capabilities.

In other words, those soldiers would throw their lives away meaninglessly, but he wouldn't.

At first, he did plan to let those expendable troops fight while he gathered intelligence for the sake of increasing his chances of success in battle.

However… he couldn't even lift his sword.

Faced with that eerie ashen-skinned man, the commander couldn't muster the courage to confront him.

Bottomless strength and that casual slaughter… It made the commander feel as if he was facing his king.

"Return, return, information…" he muttered in a language he hadn't used in a long time, fleeing as fast as he could toward the teleportation point from which his squad had come through.

That teleportation point should still have some energy left, probably enough to get him back to the royal city.

Suddenly, the black-armored commander stopped in his tracks. He realized that he would surely die if he returned to the royal city.

The king never forgave any deserter.

Even if he was a so-called commander, he was still just a pawn to the immortal king, one that could be expended as and when. Even if all the pawns were used up, the king could wait decades, centuries, or even millennia to produce a new batch of pawns.

The king never cared about waste.

The king was the eternal king.

The black-armored commander suddenly realized that he was destined to die.

Fleeing meant death, and not fleeing also meant death.

However, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live.

That's right. He wished to live, which was only natural! Why?

Because he was a commander; his life was meant to be used for more valuable purposes and not just wasted like this!

Was that right? Perhaps it was…

He shouldn't waste his own life, he shouldn't crush his own skull out of anxiety, nor should he jump off a cliff into an abyss out of boredom.

Because he needed to give his life for the king, so he had to go on living.

However, from his perspective, swinging his sword at the ashen-skinned man was no different from jumping off a cliff into an abyss.

And returning to the royal city meant that the king would surely crush his skull.

What to do? What should he do?

Flee? No, there was no way to flee.

The king was the sky! The king was the world! The king was everywhere! The king was omnipotent.

He couldn't flee! The king would find him and crush his fragile skull bit by bit.

However, he wanted to live. Not for the king, but for himself…

Baam!

Without any warning, the black-armored commander's head exploded.

Like a firecracker reaching the end of its fuse, it burst into a spray of blood.

With a thud, the headless body slumped to the ground in the direction of the royal city, completing his life's final act of submission.

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In the distant royal city, the Tyrant, who was resting on his throne, opened his eyes.

The Tyrant sensed that one of his inferior commanders had just lost his life. What the commander had transmitted back in his final moments was extreme fear.

To be honest, this was quite rare.

Since the death of the last Grand Arcanist, Rhein, at his hands, it had been a long time since anything terrified his commanders.

The desert separating the continents, huh? Interesting. I'll have to go see it for myself, thought the Tyrant as he shut his eyes once more.

Having just completed a deep sea marathon pursuit that lasted for a full two centuries, he decided to give himself a break and take a short nap.

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A reception hall within the ancient desert city.

Mervant's injuries seemed to have largely healed, and he was recounting to Calidora about their journey and experience.

Girunini sat on Osar's lap, talking to him while stroking his facial fur. Osar didn't mind, and let her do as she pleased.

Yaine leaned by the window, gazing outside and seemingly pondering while occasionally taking a bite from the cup of shaved ice she held.

As for Liu Ji, he was seated in front of Myza, staring at the latter intently.

Myza had already introduced himself and explained the situation to everyone. At first, nothing seemed amiss to Liu Ji who was listening too, but then he suddenly realized something.

He could understand the words this person was saying!

Liu Ji was certain that this man wasn't speaking in a language he knew, yet he could understand it as if there were subtitles.

I be damned!

Myza was also scrutinizing Liu Ji. He could sense a familiar aura from the latter but was unable to pinpoint what it was.

After quite a while of silence, Liu Ji tried speaking in Mandarin, "Uh, hello, can you understand what I'm saying?"

"Eh?" Myza looked surprised when he heard Liu Ji speak.

Liu Ji's language was something he had never heard before!

Wait, it's not that I haven't heard it before. This pronunciation doesn't match any language system in this world. I'm 90 percent certain this isn't a language from this world!

Suddenly, Myza realized where that sense of familiarity came from…

"Uh, you don't understand, huh?" Seeing Myza's lack of a reaction, Liu Ji reckoned that Myza didn't understand and quickly switched to apologizing in incantation.

"Ah, no, wait. You don't have to use incantation." Myza put up a hand to stop him. "I can understand what you are saying."

"Eh?!" Liu Ji was taken aback, then his eyes lit up in surprise. "Eh?! You are able to understand me? You speak Mandarin too?"

"Oh, so this language is called Mandarin. Unfortunately, I don't actually speak it," Myza said. "But even if I don't speak the language, I can still understand it, and can even make you think I'm speaking Mandarin."

"Eh… Really? That's amazing." Liu Ji was flabbergasted.

"No, compared to me, it's you who is even more amazing." Myza rubbed his temples, licked his lips, and then, as if proving his point, Liu Ji distinctly heard him speak in Mandarin. "You… are probably a hero (yong zhe), right?"

"Ah?" Liu Ji tilted his head in confusion. "Yong… Swimmer? Oh, I can swim, is that what you mean?" [TL note: The term used is Yong Zhe, which means brave person, but Liu Ji misinterprets brave for swim, which has the same pronunciation.]

"No, no, no. Um, let me phrase it differently," Myza continued in Mandarin. "First of all, you are probably from another world, right?"

Liu Ji was startled and instinctively thought, How does he know?

But in the next second, he realized that his own language, which didn't exist in this world, being understood by someone who could understand all languages, meant that such a conjecture could be correct if there had been similar instances before.

Seeing Liu Ji’s stunned reaction, Myza smiled and said, "It seems I guessed correctly… Oh, right, in your original world, are there stories about heroes saving the world?"

"Ah, yes, quite a lot actually." Liu Ji nodded. "But recently, the demon kings in those stories are either lolis or big-breasted babes… Wait… Hero? You mean me?"

"Yes, you," Myza said rather subtly. "And… it seems you've already retired?"

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