Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 270 Satire, Humanoid

Xia Nan did not make any effort to hide himself.

After realizing the situation on the field, they simply changed to a different door that allowed them to pass through the broken wooden door and more easily observe the positions of the people inside.

Therefore, Marcus, the captain of the Bloodblade Squad, was able to catch a glimpse of that sharp figure carrying two swords in the crowd.

A wary look met his dark eyes, which seemed like a deep, dark pool in a dense forest.

Instantly separate.

"Gorg, I told you to stop, are you deaf!?"

Marcus turned around abruptly and rebuked the orc beside him, who was still eager to make a move on the girl in the hidden compartment, in an unusually stern tone.

No one knew what had happened, but the captain's unusual behavior, combined with the prestige he had built up through his brutal methods, brought back some of the orc Gorg's sanity, who had been almost consumed by desire.

"Boss, but..."

The burly, light green body stood awkwardly frozen in place, making confused and irritable gurgling sounds from its throat.

"I said, stop."

Marcus's voice was lowered even further, but when it reached Gorger's ears, it carried an undeniable air of authority.

Roar--

The low growl was filled with deep resentment and obedience to the squad leader stemming from violence and the instinct for survival. The orc's chest heaved violently, his breathing like a bellows, as he glared fiercely at the girl in front of him who was almost scared unconscious.

Then, as if in a fit of pique, he turned and rushed toward the cupboard, using food to replace reproduction and fill the desires in his heart.

Stepping forward, with two curved swords at his waist, Marcus kicked the equally astonished mountain dwarf "Stonebelly" aside, then bent down, grabbed the girl by the collar, and dragged her directly out of the hidden compartment.

In front of everyone, he walked straight up to the village chief, Klapam, and threw the trembling girl at him.

"You, Klapam, right?" The hideous scars on his face looked like a twisted living thing in the flames of the torches held by the surrounding villagers. Marcus's right hand rested on the hilt of his knife, his tone calm but with a certain suppressed rage.

The thugs stood right in front of him. The old man trembled, struggling to move forward a few steps, his body almost limp.

"Sir...sir..."

"Listen, you old man, we're not here to massacre the village."

Marcus's words came out in a declarative tone, his voice icy. He didn't even look directly at the so-called "village chief" in front of him, but instead quickly swept across the crowd once more, his gaze sweeping over the sharp-looking, dark figure.

"We're just passing through and need a place to stay and replenish our supplies."

He twisted his head uncomfortably, seemingly uncomfortable speaking to the commoners in front of him in this manner.

He then held up two fingers and gestured in front of Klapam:
"A place to spend the night, and some supplies, enough for the few of us to eat and drink our fill."

"Also, we'll leave at daybreak tomorrow. Keep an eye on those peasants in your village, make sure they stay quiet and don't cause any trouble."

Upon hearing this, Klapam looked up abruptly, his face filled with disbelief.

The sudden turn of events made the elderly village chief almost think he had misheard. He subconsciously looked at the man's fierce face illuminated by the firelight, trying to find a hint of mockery or a joke in his eyes.

But all they noticed was an unusual wariness and apprehension, even the muscles in his arms were tense, ready to exert force at any moment.

Klapam's heart skipped a beat, as if he had remembered something, and a flame called "hope" quietly rose in his heart.

"Yes, sir, I will definitely keep them under control and they will never come to disturb you."

He immediately made a loud promise.

Marcus, however, merely waved his hand impatiently, his tone one of condescending "magnanimity":
"Get everything ready before dawn: meat, bread, and clean water! No tricks!"

After saying that, he suddenly turned around, strode back to the wooden chair in the living room, and sat down heavily, as if even a second more of conversation would make him uncomfortable.

With his eyes fixed on the menacing figure disappearing behind the door frame, Klapam's originally upright posture suddenly hunched over, his already tired face looking even older, and sweat had soaked the back of his clothes.

"Tom, how is Abel?"

He inquired with concern about the injuries of the man who had been slapped out of the cabin by the orc.

They breathed a sigh of relief after receiving confirmation that they were not seriously injured and had only briefly fainted.

He beckoned Mike over from the crowd nearby.

"I still have some cured meat in my house. You can come and take it later. Also, go to the village warehouse and get some dry food. Bring it over by oxcart and I'll deliver it to them."

Seeing the other party nod, he then turned to the woman who was still in shock and being comforted by the village women, and the pale-faced girl who was sobbing.

“The two from Abel’s family, I remember there’s an empty house on the east side of the village, let’s settle them there.”

"I remember what that adventurer said earlier: don't come near here."

"We can talk about anything else tomorrow. Everyone, you can all go home now."

Having witnessed the whole process and seeing that Klapam had arranged everything properly, the villagers who had been drawn by the commotion dared not linger any longer for the sake of their own lives.

With Tom's help, they carried the injured and unconscious Abel on their backs, intending to take him back to their house for treatment.

Klapam turned his head to both sides, trying to find the young figure who, though seemingly absent, had likely changed the mind of that vicious adventurer, and to express gratitude on behalf of the village and Abel's family.

All that met my eyes was a silent darkness.

Reluctantly, they had no choice but to wait until dawn to bring Abel and his family to thank them in person.

……

……

“Knock, knock, knock.”

In the quiet room, the faint sound of fingertips tapping the hilt of a knife echoed in the air with a rapid frequency, like the beating of a heart.

Marcus sat in the chair with his eyes closed. Even without making any other obvious movements, one could still sense the suppressed irritation emanating from him.

The orc Gorg, like a wild beast forcibly restrained by a rope, paced anxiously back and forth in the room, glancing at the captain beside him from time to time, his heavy breathing sounding particularly jarring.

The mountain dwarf, Stonebelly, huddled in a corner, seemingly taking stock of the valuables he had found in the house. His eyes, gleaming with a sharp light, were secretly observing the two people in front of him.

The tall and slender ranger stood silently by the window, arms crossed over her chest.

This eerie silence did not last long.

Gorger finally couldn't hold back any longer.

With a suppressed, beast-like growl, he took two sudden steps forward, his heavy footsteps seeming to crack the floorboards.

A huge shadow instantly enveloped Marcus, who was sitting on the wooden chair, but due to his prestige in the group, the orcs did not dare to get too close, and stopped three steps in front of him.

Saliva, glistening thickly in the fireplace light, dripped from the fangs, its pungent, fishy odor spraying onto the vicious man's face.
"Boss!" The orc's voice boomed like thunder in the room, "Why! Why won't you let Gorg touch that human wench!?"

His large, calloused hand clenched in mid-air, as if he were crushing something, with veins bulging on the back of his hand.

"Gorg has the biggest fist! They belong to Gorg! Anyone who dares to take them, Gorg will smash them into mincemeat!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, spittle raining down from his mouth, and he unconsciously gripped his thick, iron-inlaid wooden club tightly, making a creaking sound. Seeing this big, simple-minded man take the lead, the dwarf who had been watching from the sidelines also seized the opportunity to join in.

Of course, he didn't dare to ask in an almost questioning tone like Gorger did. Instead, he rubbed his dirty hands together, deliberately showing a greasy and affected look of doubt:

"Yes, Captain."

"We've been walking in the woods for so many days, and we've finally come across a small village. If we can't even have some meat, this idiot will suffocate!"

As he spoke, he carefully observed Marcus's expression.

I was already prepared to change the subject, and I was afraid that if the other party showed even the slightest impatience, I would "go back to the point".

He was certainly not being kind enough to think of the orcs. The reason he asked this question was that, although the village of Ashvalley was not large, the combined wealth of each household should bring him a fairly substantial income.

On the other hand, even by dwarven standards of beauty, the women in the village were not particularly attractive. Given the moral conscience of these adventurers, they wouldn't mind venting their anger on the commoners.

Marcus did not answer their questions.

His eyes remained closed, and his fingers, which were tapping the hilt of the knife, pressed down hard on it, the tips turning white from the force.

An intensely suppressed, violent chill spread through him, causing the nearest orc to instinctively take two steps back.

how to explain?

He said he was frightened by a young man who appeared out of nowhere?
And it was on the verge of exploding from this suffocating and heavy atmosphere.

A clear, undisguised, mocking laugh suddenly rang out from the window, instantly attracting the attention of the dwarves and orcs.

"Ah."

Named "Ciri," the Bloodblade Squad's only ranged archer, she leaned against the wooden wall, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

His gaze first fell on the orc's pale green, fleshy, and foolish face:

"Gorge, what else can your walnut-sized brain hold besides gluttony and mating?"

"Sometimes I really wonder if there's some goblin blood mixed in with your so-called 'half-orc' bloodline. After all, we're all green-skinned, and no one can tell."

"Crush them into mincemeat with a single blow? Use your inbreeding brain to think carefully. Would our 'alpha wolf' suddenly show kindness to those peasants outside the door for no reason?"

Gorger whirled around, his tan teeth bared, and growled in the woman's direction:

"Gro-lak (orc swear word), Celie, you're asking for it!"

Ignoring his threat, the ranger's gaze turned contemptuously to the bewildered dwarf, Stonebelly.

"And you, you shorty with a heart smaller than your body, do you think everyone is like you, only staring at this piece of junk in front of them, nothing but moldy copper coins and women's skirts?"

Celie suddenly took a step forward, her fair and delicate face displaying a subtle expression that was a mixture of irony and fear.

"Why are you suddenly acting so 'kind'? Why don't you even dare to take a bite of the fatty meat that's been offered to you?"

The mocking smile at the corner of his mouth grew even more pronounced, and he said, enunciating each word clearly:

"Because of our 'alpha wolf,' our great captain..."

"I'm scared!"

"Enough!" Marcus's voice finally rang out. His eyes, pierced by a hideous scar, held no anger, only a chilling killing intent, as he locked onto the tall, mocking figure by the window.

“Watch your tongue, Celie. I don’t mind if the team is one person less on the road tomorrow.”

"Yes, my captain."

The sarcasm at the corner of his mouth did not disappear; instead, it deepened.

But knowing that the other party's patience had reached its limit, the wanderer stopped talking, tilted his head, and looked out at the dark night.

"There's not much to say. Besides us, there's another group of adventurers in the village."

Marcus looked at the orcs and dwarves, offering an ambiguous explanation.

"Taking action rashly will only expose our team to the enemy's sight and cause unnecessary fighting."

"Just bear with it for a few more days. Once you get to Vergrove and Molten Scale Town, the taverns and brothels there will be plenty for you to enjoy."

"As for now... shut up and go to sleep! We'll set off at dawn tomorrow. Anyone who dares to delay for even a second, I'll chop off one of their fingers!"

……

……

Xia Nan decided to spare the lives of these four "humanoid goblins" for the time being.

He never considered himself a particularly kind person, nor would he put himself in danger because of some inexplicable act of kindness.

But to be honest, he had a lot of contact with the villagers in Gray Valley Village these past few days, and no matter what their true nature was, they all acted simple and warm in front of him.

Even something as simple as giving way to someone can be boasted about by the villagers for a long time. After learning from Tom's family that he liked good food, various expensive foods that ordinary villagers could only afford once a year were forcibly delivered to him every day.

He had a good impression of the villagers of Grey Valley.

Given this premise, when Xia Nan saw the orcs throwing innocent peasant women into the crowd and demanding that the village chief offer them the most beautiful young girl in the entire village...

A strange emotion welled up from within me, stemming from my own normal values.

He himself was an adventurer, and the countless days and nights he spent in the tavern hall made him clearly aware of this.

If I don't intervene, what kind of tragedy will unfold in this remote little village?

One night.

In just one night, the village, painstakingly built by countless generations of villagers, will be reduced to one of the many ruins lost in the kingdom's history.

In fact, he was already prepared for battle.

The female human ranger carrying a longbow in the room is the primary target. With [Fang Hunt] and [Gravity Control], he is confident that he can take care of this troublesome back row as soon as the battle begins.
Then there's that greedy mountain dwarf. Although his figure and movements look like a wanderer, his weapon is a double-edged giant axe that's almost as long as his body. He might be some kind of unorthodox profession. It's worth using [Gravity Etching] to eliminate any future trouble.
The middle-aged man with short hair and a scar on his face, who uses two swords as weapons, seems to be the leader. He is probably the strongest in the team, but his aura is far weaker than that of Terry William and Lawson back then. His professional level is probably not too high, within our control.

As for the last big, dumb orc, he's the type most countered by his own fighting style; just chop off his head without a second thought, no need to worry about him.

Thoughts raced through his mind, but a murderous intent suddenly erupted when the other party discovered the girl hiding in the secret compartment and was about to inflict torture on her.

But to my surprise, the leader had pretty good perception and noticed my presence.

He was quite perceptive and immediately stopped the orc's actions.

They also proactively used the village chief, Klapam, to express their team's stance: "We will leave first thing tomorrow morning, we will not stay and we will absolutely not cause any trouble."

Thus, considering that the enemy's numbers were indeed four times their own, their exact strength was unclear, and they had indeed not killed any villagers.

However, if one were to forcibly engage in combat when the other party has clearly indicated their intention to retreat, thereby affecting the surrounding villagers, it would contradict one's original intention of protecting the village.

Therefore, he chose to let them off the hook for the time being.

We'll decide whether to take action after the team leaves the village tomorrow morning.

(End of this chapter)