Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 263 Excuse me... Is this the place called Gray Valley Village?
The high-pitched and frantic cry, which seemed to be the materialization of desire, was like a cold wind sneaking into your collar in winter.

This caused Tom and Mike to instantly stop talking to each other.

His body stiffened, his pupils dilated, and he suddenly turned around, pressing his head deeper into the grass mound, his extremely tense gaze fixed on the darkness in the distance.

The forest at night is like a crouching giant beast, breathing heavily and slowly. The heavy air that enters the lungs is a cold, damp scent mixed with the smell of soil and trees.

The hooting of owls and the chirping of unknown insects still echoed in the depths of the night. Although there was no difference from usual, they became unusually clear and sensitive to the two people at this moment.

The wheat, which had only been planted not long ago, had already sprouted and was swaying gently in the evening breeze.

In the past, Tom might have remarked to Uncle Mike beside him that the crops were growing well this year and that a bumper harvest was possible.

But right now, with his head unconsciously lowered and his breathing slowed, he was completely focused on the towering trees that stood silently at the edge of his vision, like deep shadows, on the outskirts of the wheat field.

His heart pounded more and more violently, and a deep unease lingered for no apparent reason, making him feel as if something ominous was quietly brewing in the deep shadows.

At first, all Tom heard was the whistling of the night wind through the treetops and the soft rustling of the leaves against the branches.

But as he focused his attention, those even fainter, more subtle, rustling sounds, like countless insects crawling under fallen leaves, also reached his ears.

call--

Above the sky, a gap appeared in the dark clouds that obscured the silver moon, allowing the cold, bright moonlight to shine clearly for a moment, casting a soft glow into the deep, dark forest.

It's like the beam of a flashlight suddenly shining on a cockroach nest in a corner of the room that you've never paid attention to before.

A pair of small, murky eyes, filled with the ferocity of wild beasts and undisguised greed, suddenly appeared in sight, contrasting with the gaunt, ugly bodies.

Twenty? Thirty?
Do not!
That's at least forty goblins!

boom--

Tom's mind went blank. He felt the hot blood that had been brewing in his chest all night suddenly rush to the top of his head, and his thoughts and consciousness were swept away and scattered.

"beep!!!"

Suddenly, a loud and clear bugle call rang out from beside me.

Tom's body shuddered violently, and his dazed mind unconsciously returned to focus.

Turning my head, I saw that Uncle Mike had picked up the bone horn that was used to warn the villagers.

The veins on his neck and forehead bulged, and his cheeks were swollen and red, as if he had poured all his strength into them.

Behind me, accompanied by shouts of surprise and increasingly hurried footsteps, came the flickering flames rising from the corner of my eye.

I unconsciously clenched the pitchfork in my hand, and could clearly feel the sweat on my palm.

Knowing that the villagers were heading this way, Tom didn't even glance back.

Instead, he remained intently watching the dense forest ahead.

The sound of the horn is two-way.

While keeping watch over the villagers, they also alerted the vile and ferocious monsters in the forest that they had discovered their presence.

Strangely, the goblins, who should have charged out of the forest at the sound of the horn, unexpectedly suppressed their instinctive ferocity.

After a brief, subtle commotion, it fell silent again in the depths of darkness.

why?
Tom was subconsciously thinking, but his gaze was unconsciously drawn to the darker, more profound place in the distance.

Immediately, he spotted a figure that was significantly stronger and more robust than that of an ordinary goblin…

"A goblin! It's a goblin!"

With unspeakable fear, Tom whispered in a trembling voice.

Yes, only elite individuals among goblins, whose intelligence is no less than that of ordinary intelligent beings, have the ability to control these individuals filled with brutal and chaotic souls like an army.

"What do you mean, goblin?"

"Where are the goblins? How many have come?"

Turning around, I saw the men of the village arriving one after another, carrying torches. Some of them hadn't even put on their clothes properly, just throwing on a thin shirt as they rushed over.

Many of them were still sleepy-eyed.

But what they had in common was that, to varying degrees, they all carried things like pitchforks, hoes, or even iron pots that served as makeshift shields.

The one asking the question was an elderly man at the very front of the crowd, who was about fifty or sixty years old but still looked quite healthy.

"Village chief, I just glanced around, and there are probably at least forty goblins this time!"

Mike jumped down from the grass mound and reported nervously to the village chief.

"Forty of them? My God! They said there would be at most seven or eight. How come there are so many?!"

"That shouldn't be the case. I haven't found any signs of large-scale goblin activity in the forest recently. Where did these come from?"

"We're doomed! More than forty goblins, and a goblin is commanding them from behind. How can we possibly hold them off with just our numbers!"

As soon as Mike finished speaking, the crowd in front of him immediately panicked.

Clearly, while the residents of Ashvalley knew they might need to fight off goblin attacks, they hadn't anticipated that the number of goblins would be so vast, far exceeding their ability to cope.

Tom, however, didn't care about all that.

The moment he caught sight of the earth spirit, his mental state changed.

A few minutes ago, Uncle Mike's words of advice seemed to echo in my mind like some kind of illusion.

"Thirty or more... Take your wives and kids and run, don't look back... They can't carry that many..."

As a husband and father, Tom longed to rush home immediately and take his family to the rear for refuge.

And it was his inner desire to protect his loved ones that propelled his legs forward, leading him to take his first step.

He saw those faces in the crowd.

Uncle Harold, when my father died, I was still young and exhausted just from plowing the fields. It was with his help that I got through the most difficult period.
Brother Abel knew his family wasn't well-off, so when Janice was pregnant, he specially sent over several large pieces of cured venison. I heard he got scolded by his sister-in-law for several days afterward.

Lyon, this kid... Damn, why isn't he hiding in the back? What's he doing coming to the front?!

Tom stared wide-eyed, grabbed the boy by the collar, and practically forcibly pulled him out of the crowd.

"Who asked you to come?"

"What will happen to your sister if something goes wrong?"

He growled at the boy in front of him, spitting all over his face.

As his wife Janice's only brother and her only remaining relative in the world, Tom has always treated him as his own brother.

Seeing that he had come here with the group without saying a word, his anger suddenly flared up.

"Listen, I want you home right now, immediately!"

"Stay with your sister."

“You’re always quick-witted. Seeing that things weren’t going well, you took Lily and Leo and ran northeast with your sister. Don’t wait for me.”

"Do you understand?"

Tom gripped the pitchfork tightly in his hand; his initial hesitation to retreat had been replaced by a more resolute and profound emotion.

He wouldn't back down. Even holding on for just one more second might save another villager's life.

"From now on, you'll be the pillar of this family. You have to protect your sister, do you hear me?"

Tom spoke very quickly, giving instructions incessantly.

But the boy in front of him remained silent, simply raising his head and gazing at his brother-in-law with a silent and resolute expression.

He held the rusty iron shovel tightly in his hand, covered in solidified dirt, and never put it down.

"Damn it, did you hear me?!"

"Now is not the time to be willful, understand!?"

"..."

"Quiet!"

Just as the crowd was becoming increasingly agitated and even showing signs of chaos, the robust old man, the village chief of Gray Valley Village, suddenly shouted.

Bandits, snowstorms, famine... leading the villagers through one calamity after another, this old man named "Klapam" accumulated unparalleled prestige in the village.

Just two words were enough to restore order to the chaotic crowd.

People stopped arguing and worrying, and simply looked silently and attentively at the old man standing at the front, placing their hopes on him once again.

Klapam's mind raced, his thoughts racing.

The enemy is a large goblin horde of more than forty, led by a goblin.

Even considering the crude traps that were laid in advance, Ash Valley Village's current defenses are no match for them.

So... he ordered the villagers to give up resistance and scatter and flee into the forest?

No! That absolutely won't do!

The dark forest is the goblin's domain, and the scattered people have lost the power of collective cooperation, which is equivalent to giving up their greatest advantage as humans.

It's not impossible that, by some unfortunate twist of fate, Grey Valley Village could become history.

But if they stay here and hold the line, how long can they hold out against such a large number of goblins?
At that point, I'm afraid all the adult men in the village will die here!

Klapam's expression changed, and his jaw clenched.

Within seconds, his eyes, illuminated by the firelight, were already bloodshot.

A resolute look flashed across his face.

He pulled over the stubborn young man holding a shovel, his tone extremely resolute:

"Lyon, go back to the village immediately and tell everyone to run northeast... We'll meet on the main road!"

From the moment the two guards in the wheat field discovered the goblin and blew their horns, to the moment the villagers began to gather, only a few minutes had passed.

Under normal circumstances, these green rats would have long been unable to suppress their killing desires, hissing and waving their wooden clubs as they swarmed towards the village.

But now, under the forced command of the goblins, it spread out slightly in all directions, like a gaping mouth about to close, faintly covering the edge of the wheat field.

A few minutes passed quickly, and by the time the villagers had gathered and made their decisions, the green-skinned men had also completed their preparations.

"Hiss!"

A goblin, thin and bony with skin as dark green as paper covering its brittle bones, could no longer suppress its desires and leaped out of the shadows of the forest, charging straight toward the group.

Tom turned away from the boy who was shouting and rushing into the village, and looked at the simple fence with long thorns through the distance.

They watched the ferocious goblin running wildly on the ridge of the field, and the green-skinned swarm that was about to surge towards them like a tide.

He gripped the wooden handle of the pitchfork tighter and tighter, and his breathing became rapid involuntarily.

Beside him, Chief Clapham, Uncle Harold, Brother Abel… on those faces, weathered by time and bearing the marks of years, were fear, panic, and some were even trembling and whimpering.

But not a single person chose to back down.

Tom's attention was more focused than ever before. For some reason, at this moment, what Tom was thinking about was not the impending battle, fight, or death, but the vow he had made standing in front of his father's grave.

Providing a good life for my family... it seems I can't do that.

Leo is still young, but Leon is quick-witted. He had originally planned to send the boy to a town outside to learn a trade, but now...

hold head high--

Suddenly, a long, booming wolf howl, erupting from an unknown place and echoing through the night, brought Tom back to reality.

"A wolf? No, that sound..."

He subconsciously pondered the source of the sound.

But then, the commotion coming from the distant forest interrupted his thoughts.

Tom had no idea what was going on.

It wasn't just a wolf's howl; it was a sudden gust of wind that swept through the forest, an unusual, slight tremor in the ground beneath our feet, and those mournful screams that abruptly ceased amidst the howling.

Deeper than the night, the massive, twisted, pitch-black figure revealed its fleeting, ferocious outline in the faint moonlight.

Trees were broken, and fallen leaves, along with broken branches, rained down; the dull thud of metal cutting flesh and bone was superimposed, transforming into a terrifying roar that sent chills down one's spine.

As the evening breeze blew, a faint smell of blood drifted from afar and filled my nostrils with each breath.

The first goblin to leap out of the forest was still running along the ridge of the field.

His crimson eyes were filled with lust for human flesh and blood, without the slightest doubt as to why his companions had not kept up.
The sticky saliva dripping from its mouth as it ran, along with the flaring nostrils and the aroma of flesh and blood, had already filled its small head, making it oblivious to the gradually subsiding, shrill screams behind it.

It raised its dirty wooden stick, inlaid with rusty iron ingots, and suddenly lunged forward at an abnormal speed.

It certainly wasn't that he awakened some power or unleashed some potential during the battle.

The iron-gray blade had somehow pierced its chest.

Spurting from the depths of darkness, the immense force of the impact pinned the emaciated body to the ground.

Before the goblin could even comprehend what had happened, its remaining consciousness, along with the life force within it, seeped into the mud along with the blood flowing beneath it.

"Snapped."

Footsteps sounded.

The silver ring reflected a faint light under the moonlight, and a bloodstained hand emerged from the darkness, gripping the hilt of a sword;
Beneath the finely textured, smooth-lined light gray bone leggings, leather boots stained with grass clippings and bloodstains slammed heavily onto the goblin's head. There was no doubt that with just a little force, the round sphere encased in the skull would burst open like a water-filled sac.

With a powerful thrust of his arm, the slender sword, trailing a string of blood droplets, was pulled from the mud and corpses. Its sharp, iron-gray blade gleamed blindingly.

The last lingering, chilling shadow of a dark wolf quietly dissipated into the night.

The black-haired youth in the mottled iron armor casually twirled his sword, flicking away the blood.

Looking at the villagers standing motionless behind the fence in front of them.

A polite smile graced his face.

"Excuse me... is this Gray Valley Village?"

(End of this chapter)