Forests Don't Support Idle Goblins

Chapter 90 Finding Him [3k]

"I heard the Storm Brotherhood selections are almost over, Fatty, are you really not going?"

Inside the cave, two adventurers chatted idly while holding swords.

"What would I go there for, to get beaten up? Not only am I not up to the registration standard, but my skills are nowhere near those guys' level." The fat man flicked the blood off his scimitar and grinned, "Don't talk about me, you didn't register either, did you?"

Another tall, thin adventurer chuckled a few times, "I didn't meet the standard either."

He had several knife scars on his face, and his neck appeared to have been injured, causing his head to tilt to the left.

"I really envy those people, though. I heard they didn't recruit many this time, and I also heard they're setting off for the capital right away." The tall, thin adventurer spat to the side. "The smell here is awful."

"Even the worst smell can't compare to the stench of a drunk dwarf. Enough talk, take care of these few and hurry back to exchange them for money." The fat man kept tugging at the scimitar in his hand as he slowly moved forward.

Three goblins stood before them, brandishing sharpened branches and threatening them with squawks. But their threat was more like that of caged beasts, while two goblins lay dead in pools of blood inside the burrow.

The selection process for the Storm Brotherhood has attracted a lot of attention, which has made it impossible for some adventurers who are still making a living in the forest to form a suitable team with a good mix of ranged and melee attacks. So today, only the two of them can enter the forest together.

"Fatty, did you hear that?" The tall, thin adventurer stopped approaching and tilted his head to look around.

"I only heard these three green dwarves making annoying noises. They'll quiet down once I kill them." The fat man ignored his teammates behind him, instead assuming a stance with his knife, ready to parry the goblins' "spears" before charging forward and hacking them to death.

"Heh heh," he was surprised to hear a strange gasp behind him, which seemed to be coming from his teammate.

He cautiously took a step to the side, then turned to look at his teammates.

At this moment, the tall, thin adventurer held a short sword, staring blankly ahead, and kept making gasping sounds, as if he had suddenly gone mad.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the fat man shouted.

His teammate didn't answer, but slowly turned around to face him, and then with a "click," his tilted head suddenly straightened up.

The fat man immediately raised his scimitar on alert. Ever since he met this guy, his head had been tilted to the side. He would often say that after killing a few more goblins, he would take the bounty to the priests of the four major churches to see if they could handle it.

But now it was "cured" instantly, and his intuition told him that his teammate in front of him had a serious problem.

The tall, thin adventurer slowly bent over, his back hunched, and a terrifying smile appeared on his stiff face.

Immediately afterwards, he brandished his short blade and charged directly at the fat man, while mumbling something the fat man couldn't understand.

"Pfft!" The fat man dodged the short blade to the side and cleaved his teammate's sword-wielding arm in one strike. But the opponent seemed completely oblivious, turning around and lunging at him, pinning the fat man to the ground.

"What's wrong with you, ah—" Before the fat man could finish speaking, the other person bit his neck.

He was in pain and sweating profusely. He tried to push his teammates away and even slashed them several times, but to no avail.

Gradually, the fat man's knife-wielding movements slowed down, and finally his arm slammed weakly to the ground, the curved knife bouncing to the side with a "clang".

The tall, thin adventurer slowly got up from the ground, his mouth and body covered in blood, looking as if he had just emerged from a pool of blood.

He chuckled a few times, then collapsed forward and lay motionless.

Several wisps of white smoke emerged from his back, slowly coalescing into a human shape. The three surviving goblins watched in horror. Although they had never seen anything like this before, they instinctively sensed that the cloud of smoke in front of them was dangerous.

As the smoke gradually dissipated, a short goblin ghost, its lower body shrouded in white smoke, coldly stared at them.

"I saved you, I am your new leader." The goblin ghost's shrill voice rang out, making everyone feel uneasy.

The three goblins huddled together, their eyes wide as the ghost drifted closer and closer.

"I am the leader, I, Scarface, am the leader." The ghost stared intently at the goblin, as if waiting for something.

Finally, one of the goblins trembled as it stepped forward, knelt down, and then—

He groped around on the ground for a long time but couldn't find his ankle.

Scarface was stunned. He didn't know what to do next. Since he had been summoned, he no longer had a lower body, which meant he couldn't perform the ankle-touching ritual.

The kneeling goblin and the scarred man stared at each other, their eyes wide with disbelief, and an eerie silence fell over the scene.

A few seconds later, whether the goblin had actually come up with a solution or was too terrified to look at him, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He reached down and ran his hand across Scarface's lower body, scooping up a handful of white smoke, pretending it was just touching his ankle. Then he stood up and stood to the side.

The other two goblins exchanged a glance, then lined up to kneel down, scooped up some white smoke, and paid their respects.

"Have you ever seen a goblin that can throw Bomb Fruits?" Scarface floated in front of his subordinates.

"No, leader," the three goblins said.

"Have you ever seen a short goblin that can shoot crossbows?" Scarface asked again.

"No, Chief."

Scarface hovered around his subordinates, pondering his next move.

"Find the goblin who threw the Explosion Fruit? Take revenge? Become the leader?" He muttered to himself. Compared to helping his master find the goblin, he wanted revenge and to become the leader more. But the soul burning was too painful. This pain went deep into his soul and was an excruciating pain that was almost tearing him apart. So he had to think of a way to deal with it.

Just when his three henchmen were about to get confused by him, Scarface finally came up with an idea.

"You all come with me to find the exploding fruit," Scarface said to his men.

Finding the exploding fruit will lead you to the goblin who threw it. Although he doesn't know where this fruit grows, it's still in the forest. As long as he keeps searching and expanding his ranks, he'll eventually encounter a goblin who has seen this fruit before. And in the process of annexing other goblin tribes, he'll definitely encounter green eggs.

In this way, he can be a leader, take revenge, and help his master find goblins who can throw fruit.

I will possess the green egg myself and torment him, making him suffer all kinds of pain.

"I'm definitely the most suitable person to be the leader." Scarface chuckled, his sharp voice like metal scraping against glass.

"Grab the weapons on the ground, let's go find the next wave of goblins." He said this and floated out of the burrow.

Giethoorn, Moonlight Inn.

"President, a reprimand order." Ricardo placed an envelope in front of Martel.

"Is the miserly young master getting restless?" Martel opened the envelope and quickly began to read.

-

"What does the letter say?" The mage Qige, sitting in a high-backed chair, was engrossed in his book without looking up.

"What else could it be? If we can't find the little fairy, we'll be banished and never allowed to enter their family's territory again." Martel tore the reprimand into pieces and threw it into the wastebasket. "Has he been living in the castle for too long and frozen his brain? There are other families besides his that own territory next to the Nightmare Forest."

"Arrogance is the mask of nobles; greed is the filth beneath," Qige said, uttering a profound statement. Then he looked up and said, "Shouldn't we take action as well?"

"Yes, I think we should act tomorrow. The selection ends today, we'll rest for one night, and then head into the forest immediately tomorrow." Martel nodded. "It'll be a good opportunity to see what these guys are made of."

"Then I'll go and take stock of the supplies and see if we need to prepare anything else." Qige closed the book, stood up, straightened his robes, and walked out of the room.

"Ricardo, go to the red-light district and call Jacques back," Martel said, opening the yellowish-brown map.

"Okay, President." Ricardo walked to the window, his eyes clouded with a white mist that took a long time to clear. Then he turned to Martel and said, "I told him, he'll be right back."

After a while, the door to the house was kicked open with a "bang," and a burly man reeking of alcohol barged in.

"What do you want? I was just telling some ladies about how I raced against five goblins all by myself." He sat casually in his chair, the high-backed chair creaking.

"We need to take action tomorrow," Martel said briefly.

"So soon?" Jacques muttered. "Two beautiful ladies even told me they really enjoyed hearing my stories."

"You're about to miss your chance. If we don't go into the forest soon, the Sheriff's Office will expel us from the territory," Martel said with a smile.

"That bastard sent a threatening letter?" Jacques said, frowning. "I really want to chop him to pieces with an axe."

"Alright, hurry up and pack your gear. We'll set off tomorrow morning and head into the forest." Martel looked up and pointed outside. "After this, you'll have even more stories to tell the beauties of the capital."

"Okay." Jacques nodded, then turned to Ricardo and complained, "Ricardo, stop letting the squirrel jump in front of me and slap me every time. You're scaring all those beautiful women."

Ricardo glanced at him, smiled, and shrugged.

"I'll stew it sooner or later," Jacques muttered, getting up and going back to his room.

"It'll be soon. We'll see this goblin fortress tomorrow." Martel stared at the map on the table. "Chigo said their leader is very interesting and quite intelligent."

"That's rare indeed. If you're a goblin, I'll definitely catch you and send you to Goldfinch City. Intelligent goblins are much rarer than goblins."

He downed the beer in his glass in one gulp. "It all comes down to this. Only success is allowed."

By the window, Ricardo was focused on feeding the squirrels, showing no intention of speaking to Martel.