I'm not a Witcher anymore.

All that's left is to wrap things up.

Goblins don't leave behind much of value when they die.

Zieg nudged the corpse beside his feet with the tip of his boot.

The green skin lost its color, quickly turned gray, and clung to the bones in a wrinkled state.

The rags wrapped around my body were dirty and tattered, soaked in the smell of sweat, mud, and decay, which would seep straight into my nostrils if I got close.

He glanced at it only once before looking away.

Of all these corpses, only the left ear is actually worth money.

The Adventurers' Guild uses this method to calculate the number of kills: two silver coins per kill. It's simple and avoids any disputes.

As for the rough wooden sticks, the short knives full of nicks, and the stones he picked up at random—he had no interest in even bending down to touch them.

However, not being able to sell it for a good price doesn't mean it's completely useless.

In the world of Witcher, there are many things that can be used to make medicine from monsters.

Strength and weakness, high and low are one thing; whether it can be used is another.

Even the lowest of the low, goblins aren't necessarily completely devoid of anything.

Zig drew his short sword, crouched down, pressed down on the head of the first corpse, and pinched its long, pointed left ear.

With a single slash of the blade.

The left ear fell off with a thud, its edges still covered with a bit of warm, wet flesh.

He didn't stop.

Guided by his skillful alchemy, his movements were both steady and precise. The tip of the blade first pried open the eye sockets, removing the two cloudy, yellowish eyeballs;

Then the tongue was cut off; finally, the skin and flesh were cut along the back of the neck, and a small tube of dark green liquid was taken out from deep in the spine.

After each item left his body, he casually put it into his Book of Adventure.

Blood, filth, and residual heat instantly transformed into silvery-white dust, sinking into the pages of the book.

Soon, new words appeared on the pages.

"Goblin Left Ear: Guild Certificate. Can be used to settle rewards for raids. Each one is worth two silver coins."

"Cloudy eyeball: Inferior biomaterial. Extremely low activity and no significant alchemical value."

"Hooked tongue: a low-level sensory organ. Contains mild toxicity and can be used as a low-grade substitute for 'water ghost tongue'."

"Mutant spinal fluid: Unstable monster fluid. Currently insufficient for direct medicinal use. If a higher-level sample of the same type can be obtained, it can be used as a substitute for the giant ghoul bone marrow required in the 'Maripo Forest'."

"Um?"

Zieg's gaze lingered on those lines of text for a moment.

He originally just wanted to give it a try.

Surprisingly, usable materials can actually be extracted from goblins.

Water lily is a common ingredient in the preparation of "Maripo Forest".

Although this hooked tongue is far from perfect, it's barely adequate as a substitute for a lower-level one.

In addition, there were freshly picked Descenes fruit from the valley—

The two main materials have been received.

There are only two things missing.

A bottle of dwarf liquor.

There's also something that can replace the marrow of the giant ghoul.

Zig lowered his gaze to the still-warm corpses at his feet.

Regular goblins won't work.

But what if it's the larger type?

Large goblins have thicker skeletons, thicker muscles, and their bone marrow is usually more concentrated.

Whether it's worth using or not can only be determined by seeing a sample.

Without thinking further, he picked up his short sword and walked toward the next corpse.

Squat down.

Press down on the head.

Make the cut.

They cut open the lower jaw, removed the tongue, and cut off the ear.

The movements were clean, efficient, and without any unnecessary actions.

The second one.

The third one.

Up to the eighth one.

Eight left ears and eight sections of dark purple hooked tongue were collected by him into the Book of Adventure.

When the pages were closed, the blood was still warm.

The "Storage Page" will not change anything because of this.

It remains the same as it was when it was put in.

It will not rot.

It won't spoil.

The only things that can't be taken in are living things.

After doing all this, Zieg straightened up and looked around.

The lakeside was already permeated with the stench of blood.

The goblin corpses lay scattered across the muddy ground, their blood slowly spreading and staining the ground a dark red.

We can't just leave it like this.

Zig walked over, grabbed the small, thin corpses, and dragged them together one by one.

The green-skinned monster's body is not heavy.

He piled them up at the edge of the woods, like a pile of rotten skins.

Then he gathered dry branches, bark, and fallen leaves from the surrounding area and stuffed them into the gaps in the pile of corpses, adding a few clumps of dried moss.

A flint was struck.

Mars fell.

Before long, a wisp of smoke rose up, swaying precariously.

The flames shot up the withered branches and climbed over the goblin corpses.

The skin and flesh slowly curled up in the fire, turned black, and cracked.

A strong, acrid smell quickly spread, mixed with the greasy odor of burning fat, making one's throat feel tight.

Zig took a few steps back to avoid the smell.

In the world of Witcher, corpses are never something that can be casually discarded.

Whether it's human or monster.

Either burn it.

Either bury it deep.

Otherwise, something else will soon follow the scent and come looking for you.

Ghouls are like that.

Many monsters that enjoy the smell of rotting flesh and blood are the same.

Zieg wasn't sure if ghouls or other carrion-eating monsters existed in this world.

Even if they weren't there, leaving these bodies by the lake is definitely not a good idea.

Leaving something to rot will attract more than just wild animals.

It could also be a plague.

The flames crackled in the wind.

Black smoke slowly rose into the forest, only to be dispersed by the tree canopy.

Zig stood there, watching the pile of corpses collapse little by little until the flesh was burned away, leaving only charred and brittle remains.

Only after the fire had completely subsided did he step forward, use the tip of his boot to pick up the wet mud, and extinguish the embers that still carried smoldering embers little by little.

The soil was covered, and the last few wisps of fire went out.

The woods fell silent again.

After doing all this, Zieg turned around and looked back at the lake.

Goblins don't just gather in groups of eight near a water source for no reason.

Since it's a small team, there must be a nest nearby.

And it won't be too far.

Water source, distance, travel time—all these things are there.

Zig walked back to the lake shore, squatted down, and looked down at the soft mud on the lakeside.

For someone who has spent many years in Kaer Mohen, the traces left in the woodlands are never difficult to read.

He didn't spend much effort before finding the footprints left by the goblins when they came.

The forefoot is wide, and the toes are short, thick, and spread outwards.

A series of dents of varying depths were left in the wet mud, ugly and glaring.

The trails stretched from the lakeside into the woods, breaking reeds and trampling aquatic plants, before converging into a clear path on the drier ground.

Straight ahead, pointing into the shadows deeper into the dense forest.