The New Year Special Job Change Scroll was just as priceless.
Such scrolls could occasionally drop from hidden personal quests, but farming them that way was utterly impractical.
First off, triggering these hidden personal quests was extremely rare—and as the name implied, they could only be completed solo. The difficulty alone made success nearly impossible.
Plus, these quests required high player levels and demanded significant personal strength. Many were clearly designed with the developers’ malicious humor in mind.
Special jobs varied wildly—some were junk-tier, others absurdly overpowered.
So here’s the real question: Would any sane player abandon a high-level swordsman build they’d painstakingly leveled up… just to gamble on an unknown class with zero online guides?
No. Absolutely not. No serious gamer would risk it. And crucially, quest-granted Job Change Scrolls were soulbound—non-tradable. That sealed their fate.
---
But the New Year Boss’s Job Change Scroll had none of these flaws.
It *always* unlocked a broken-tier class. Not a single New Year special job had ever been useless.
It was tradable. If the killing blow on the Boss landed by a guild member, the scroll became guild property. The guild leader could then claim it by spending massive guild points.
Special job skills were also top-secret—only the user knew their effects.
So if a guild leader entrusted this class to a loyal powerhouse? Their guild gained a hidden trump card.
Much like how nations treat their nuclear deterrents.
---
That’s why New Year pet eggs and Job Change Scrolls were priceless. In the hands of an ordinary player? Both could fetch astronomical prices.
But that was basically impossible…
None of this mattered to him—a worthless level 2 newbie without even a proper class.
He’d once dreamed of wielding a blade beside his sister on the battlefield. He’d fantasized about becoming a top-tier player, her ultimate guardian.
All lies.
*Throb.* His head ached already. Out there, players were surely battling the New Year Boss right now.
Soulshadow Tianyou sighed, stepping out of the新手 village for the first time. He entered the starting野外 map—a zone where monsters only ranged from levels 1 to 5, all non-aggressive unless provoked.
He glanced around. Mostly rabbit mobs. The village overflowed with beginner quests—hunting rabbits, gathering pelts—rewarding quick XP, coins, and starter gear.
But Soulshadow Tianyou had no heart for grinding. He was running out of time…
*Huff… huff…*
He stumbled to a corner, gripping a tree trunk, gasping for air. Dizziness clawed deeper into his skull.
“Guess the symptoms haven’t eased… only gotten worse.” Tianyou chuckled bitterly, slumping against the roots, his face etched with despair.
He was waiting for the game’s forced logout. Waiting to die. Just like every login these past years—he tasted that old hopelessness again.
Then his hand brushed something soft beside him. He looked down. A cluster of mushrooms.
“Mushrooms?” Soulshadow Tianyou murmured, plucking the vibrantly colored fungi. He stared at them, then suddenly grinned. “Perfect.”
He opened his skill menu, selected *Chef*, and summoned a portable camp set. Struggling upright, he skewered the mushrooms on bamboo sticks, lit a fire, and sprinkled on seasonings.
Soon, a savory aroma filled the air.
*Ding! You obtained three Roasted Poisonous Mushrooms.*
“Ha! Knew it.” Tianyou’s eyes glazed over as he lifted a skewer. “Let’s see if these’ll do the job.”
*Rustle… rustle…*
A figure emerged from the opposite bushes.
Tianyou froze, skewer halfway to his lips. His eyes locked onto the creature before him.
A humanoid monkey—muscles coiled like steel cables beneath thick fur, eyes glacial and domineering. No cartoonish charm here. Pure, primal menace.
A feral, unclothed Sun Wukong?
“Old Monkey’s hungry,” it growled, voice like grinding stones. “Hand over that food.”
