Chapter 22: The Goblin’s Appearance

“My lord!”

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, followed by the manservant Mick knocking urgently on the door.

“Come in. What’s the matter?” Phield glanced out the window. It was still pitch black outside. Torches had been raised downstairs, but all he could see were panicked faces flickering near the flames.

It seemed the situation was more serious than he thought.

Mick threw himself to the floor, trembling as he spoke. “My lord, we’ve run into big trouble!”

Phield’s heart raced, but he kept his composure. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.”

“Bandits! Armed bandits attacked our territory!” Mick was still young, and terror filled his voice. “A few slaves went to the fields to relieve themselves when bandits suddenly charged out of the gray mist. They killed two with spears and kidnapped one female slave!”

Phield stepped forward quickly, asking in surprise, “They didn’t press the attack—they withdrew immediately?”

“Yes, they left right away.”

“Fuck!” Phield cursed angrily.

The fact that they withdrew meant they had some intelligence. In this godforsaken, toxin-filled wasteland, he still encountered bandits? Was there anything more absurd?

Perhaps it was his “beloved” stepmother and siblings.

That was possible. If they learned he had a Divine Chosen, it would be dangerous.

Phield checked the mini-map again. Nothing unusual.

This reminded him of Connor’s cavalry—they only showed exclamation marks when they got close enough.

The mini-map’s warning range was limited. It could only detect Divine Chosen and corrupted creatures from farther away.

“Go notify the others. Have them take shelter on the first floor of the grand winery. I’m going after them.” Phield grabbed his longsword from the rack and strode downstairs.

Ashina was already downstairs examining the bodies. Seeing Phield descend, she immediately apologized with a wronged expression. “I disturbed your rest. Letting enemies enter the territory is my failure.”

“It’s not your fault. The territory doesn’t even have walls yet—it’s not impossible for enemies to slip in.”

Ashina had fought bloody battles all day and missed the enemies due to fatigue. That was normal.

Phield crouched down, reached out, and pulled aside the tattered, foul-smelling burlap on one corpse. He tilted his head in confusion. “The abdominal wound—the angle of penetration is upward.”

“Indeed strange.” Ashina rubbed her smooth chin, rhythmically shaking her leg. Her pale, plump thighs trembled slightly—a small habit that helped her focus. “It might not be humans. Perhaps those detestable dwarves.”

Phield’s anxiety eased a little. Things might not be too bad—at least not life-threatening.

“Can your wolves track the enemy’s scent?”

Using a Drakewolf like a hound sounded absurd.

Ashina slapped her forehead. “How did I not think of that?”

“Take me with you. I need to see what kind of trash dares attack my territory.” Phield gritted his teeth. He wasn’t as kind-hearted as the original owner. “I’ll chop their damned heads off.”

Ashina was already familiar with Phield’s temperament and smiled. “Of course! I shall be your sword!”

The Drakewolf sniffed the corpse a few times, then its glowing blue vertical pupils locked onto the northeast direction of the Nightfall Domain.

“The enemy fled that way.”

Good—they hadn’t gone south. The attackers might really not be human.

Clang, jingle~

A dozen or so slave guards stumbled out, disheveled. Many were still pulling on their armor, looking drowsy. Phield tugged at the corner of his mouth, wanting to scold them but holding back. One couldn’t expect soldiers of this era to obey orders like a modern army.

Without doubt, the guards had been sleeping soundly—so deeply that even as Phield prepared to set out, most were still dreaming.

“You lot stay and guard the territory. Don’t let the enemy come back.”

Phield had no intention of bringing them.

Pursuit demanded speed. By the time the troops assembled, the enemy would likely be long gone.

“Still, discipline training needs to be prioritized soon.”

A sloppy army had no fighting strength—it couldn’t even protect the basic territory.

Ashina pulled Phield onto the giant wolf. With his mini-map, the chance of being ambushed was greatly reduced.

More stable than a horse’s back—Phield’s first sensation upon mounting the giant wolf was pure comfort.

Riding a horse wasn’t difficult; the back was wide enough. Once you steadied yourself and got used to it, you’d marvel that it was simpler than riding a bicycle—after all, bicycles had no intelligence. Many expert riders could even sleep while mounted. Ashina’s wolf was even steadier; the jagged scales on its back didn’t prick at all. They automatically retracted and fitted together seamlessly, like a modern work of craftsmanship.

“Set out!”

Riding the giant wolf, the two charged swiftly into the gray mist.

The surroundings blurred rapidly, fierce winds howling past their ears. The wolf rider’s speed was astonishing—practically a subway train!

In just four minutes, Ashina located the enemy in the dense corrupted forest.

“I see them.” Ashina’s red pupils gleamed with magical light in the gray mist.

The enemies were resting in a clearing, toying with the female slave’s corpse.

“I’m really envious that you can see through the gray mist. Right now, it’s just a blanket of white in front of me.” After signing the contract, lords could also become immune to the death mist’s toxins, but they couldn’t see through the gray mist, so Phield’s vision was nothing but hazy white.

“What are the things that attacked the territory?”

“A group of… little dwarfs? Dwarves? But not that fat.”

“Can you handle them? If not, we should attack with the guards together.”

“No problem! They’re just ordinary life forms.” Ashina felt the warmth of Phield’s chest against her back and unconsciously let out a comfortable “purr” from her throat, but her tone remained casual. “We can just crush them. They haven’t noticed us yet.”

Phield carefully drew his longsword, trying not to make a sound, then lowered his voice.

“Then let’s wreck them!”

“Woo~”

A wolf howl filled with killing intent rang out, instantly shattering the stagnant silence of the gray mist.

In response came a flurry of frantic, panicked screeches. Only now did Phield’s mini-map flash with a large cluster of red exclamation marks.

“As expected, for non-corrupted creatures, they need to show hostility toward me before the warning appears.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh~

A series of javelins pierced through the gray mist, hurtling toward the two of them.

The giant wolf dodged rapidly, turning into a blurred shadow that easily evaded them.

“The enemies can see us, so hiding in the gray mist isn’t very useful anymore.”

Phield lit the mist-dispelling lamp, and his vision cleared immediately. The surroundings were filled with writhing tentacles and vines, the ground littered with all sorts of rotting corpses. But the most eye-catching were that group of “dwarves.”

More precisely, a bunch of goblins with large noses and sharp teeth. Unlike ordinary goblins, these little monsters had the milky white pupils of the dead and earthy yellow skin.

The captured female slave, having traveled through the gray mist, had already been killed by the haze, yet she had still been stripped naked and subjected to torment. On her left abdomen, due to corruption, a cluster of dense tumors had formed. Phield, who had trypophobia, merely glanced at it hastily and nearly passed out on the spot.

Upon seeing humans, the gray goblins danced provocatively.

“They have the ability to be immune to the gray mist. This is not good news.”

Seeing the goblins’ appearance, Phield immediately understood: gray goblins were the species that had survived the death mist’s natural selection. “Let one escape—don’t kill it. Kill all the rest.”

Ashina showed no restraint in her killing intent. “Understood.”

“Pfft~”

The giant wolf’s figure suddenly appeared above the foremost goblin in the group. Ashina gazed at the tragically dead slave, a trace of anger rising on her beautiful face. The speed of her lance surged again, accompanied by the sound of iron piercing flesh. The unlucky goblin was stabbed in the chest, blood spraying wildly as it was immediately flung away by the giant wolf’s impact, crashing far off like a ragged cloth, its bones shattered.

There were a great many goblins—over thirty—wearing ill-fitting armor as they swarmed forward like an earthy yellow tide. The goblins gripped rusty spears, thrusting from all directions, while some fanatics leaped in spread-eagle fashion, trying to drag the riders down from their mount.

“Court death!”

The delightful scenes of defeat so beloved by imperial novelists to entertain the masses were mere fiction. Before the terrifying combat power of a Divine Chosen, goblins—at least ordinary goblins—had no chance whatsoever.

They didn’t even need to breathe fire. The giant wolf charged recklessly through the goblin tide, while Ashina repeatedly thrust her lance, each strike claiming the life of one or even several goblins.

Blood spread, seeping into the Northern Province’s soil, pooling into small blood ponds in the low spots. Wails and screams rose and fell continuously, paired with the Northern Province’s distinctive “Lovecraftian” terrain, turning the scene into hell itself.

“Waaahhh!”

Having suffered massive casualties, the goblins began to rout. Yet exposing their defenseless backs to wolf cavalry with extreme mobility was utterly foolish.

Ashina did not slaughter them all at once. In fact, she could have simply ordered the giant wolf to breathe fire and instantly kill these rat-like creatures.

Drawing her long knife, Ashina leisurely began the pursuit behind the fleeing goblins.

Even Phield could time his strikes perfectly, swinging his longsword to slice through the escaping goblins, chopping them into minced meat.

Soon, only one of the pursued goblins remained, with Ashina tracking it from a distance.

Creatures filled with terror often cannot think clearly; they tend to return to the safest place they know.

After passing through a stretch of forest, Phield could discern from the mini-map that there had once been a cobblestone road here. Ten years ago, large numbers of travelers and merchants would take this route—safe and efficient. But after years of corruption, Phield could not see any trace of the past.

Instead, a series of skeletons along the roadside assured Phield that he was heading in the right direction.

A camp deep in the dense forest was surrounded by corrupted thorn bushes that writhed like earthworms—the best dwelling these goblins could find.

This band of goblins called themselves the “Black Tribe.” The goblin chieftain was very fond of the name. They were the noble descendants of the orc expeditionary force. To attack the human gateway—the Sacred Griffin Empire—the orc emperor had launched a grand and vigorous campaign. It would have been better if they hadn’t failed. The despicable humans seemed to have communed with demonic powers, unleashing the death mist that killed every living thing in the entire Northern Province.

Otherwise, he would already be in a warm and comfortable human city, grabbing a princess for some physical communion. Fortunately, the tenacious goblins had adapted to the corruption and evolved into gray mist goblins. In the future, there would still be a chance to breach the damned human walls, capture some humans for breeding. The goblin chieftain fantasized.

The sound of frantic footsteps interrupted his reverie. An earthy yellow goblin stumbled in.

“Boss! We found a human camp!” the goblin said in a language only they could understand.

The goblin chieftain’s face lit up with joy. “The Beast God blesses us! Where are they? I want to…”

Before he could finish, the chieftain’s smile froze. A giant wolf over two meters tall already stood proudly in his line of sight.

“Fuck! Shit! You led the enemy here!”

The camp held over a hundred goblins, but their combat strength seemed inferior to the previous thirty. Phield scanned back and forth twice, feeling some doubt.

“What do they eat? Corrupted plants?” Phield wondered inwardly, but now was not the time to study nature. With a wave of his hand, Phield said hatefully, “Burn them all to ashes. They actually dared to attack my people—they’re tired of living.”

These were no longer ordinary goblins. It was time to strike hard.

…

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