Chapter Twenty-Two: Slaughter

The wounded goblin warriors were tied together in a line by Shaya, much like grasshoppers strung with rope. Ox had transformed from a trembling captive into Shaya’s companion—a promotion earned by eliciting Shaya’s sympathy, and now he bore the responsibility of escorting the prisoners.

Mr. Princess used a discarded goblin short spear as a walking stick and waved a broken blade in her other hand, herding the long line of captives forward. It was clear that Ox, embittered by his own tragic fate, harbored a deep resentment for all goblins in the tribe, and the goblin warriors suffered greatly under his supervision.

Shaya and the Wretch walked at the rear. The Wretch still sat atop a shield, letting Shaya carry her.

“Hey, mud dweller…” The Wretch seemed embarrassed. “You… saved me again today. This is the third time you’ve rescued me. Um… thank you.”

Shaya’s reply was curt. “What use is gratitude? Can you give me any real benefit?”

The Wretch opened her mouth, then whispered, “You’ve already taken all the money I had on me…” Yet she mustered her courage: “If—if we make it back safely this time, I promise I’ll reward you with a large sum!”

Shaya remained silent, apparently unconvinced by her words.

After a pause, the Wretch suddenly asked, “Hey, is your name really Shaya? I heard you tell the goblins that earlier.”

Shaya: “Hmph.”

“You know so much.” The Wretch frowned; her brows arched in a way that was quite unique. “You’re familiar with everything on the Wildfire Plains, you know a lot about goblins, and you even speak some of their tongue. I’ve never heard of such things. Were you born here? Is Shaya your real name? Is that your full name?”

Shaya: “Mm.”

“And… can we stop going forward?” she pleaded pitifully, revealing her true intent. “Let’s go back. If it’s money you want, I can give you so much, anything you desire.”

Shaya: “Hmph.”

“…” The Wretch finally couldn’t help but whisper, “Do you know how dangerous it is if we keep going? And… if something happens to me, my family will never let you off.”

Shaya did not pick up on the concern in her tone; he simply raised his head, his expression scornful. “Do you realize how foolish your words sound?”

“Uh?” The Wretch was stunned.

Shaya spoke with seriousness: “You’re telling me now that you’re from a prominent family, trying to scare me? But think about it—by saying so, I’m even less inclined to let you go. I’d fear you’d come back for revenge, so my best option would be to kill you here and bury you in some random pit.”

He paused, a sly, mountain-man cunning flickering across his face. “Don’t you find it strange? For two days, I haven’t asked you a single question.”

“Have I asked why a fool like you is wandering the Wildfire Plains alone?”

“Have I asked how you managed to step right into a trap?”

“Have I asked why you carry so many gold coins, or what your true identity is?”

The Wretch could not answer.

“Because I know, even if I did ask and you told me you’re someone important, what difference would it make? There’s no point in asking. I’m not letting you go, not until we find the dragon’s treasure. When I have the riches, I’ll flee far away—maybe then I’ll consider letting you live. For now… hmph.”

Seeing this mud dweller still dreaming of fortune, the Wretch cried out, agitated, “But you’re injured! The wound on your back hasn’t healed! You hurt your leg today fighting the goblins! I know you’re a formidable warrior, but… that’s a dragon! Even in perfect condition, you couldn’t defeat a dragon, let alone wounded! I doubt you’ll even make it through the goblin territory safely! We’ll both die here!”

“You’re not wrong.” Shaya chuckled, lowering his voice. “My abilities are good enough to handle a few dozen goblin warriors—any more and I’m done for. But my life’s worthless. If I don’t take a risk now, I’m just a pauper. If I win, I’ll be rich and powerful. Why not gamble?”

The Wretch grew anxious. She hurriedly said, “I’m not asking you to let me go back… just—just leave the Wildfire Plains. I can find a way to reward you handsomely, and…”

She hadn’t finished when Shaya suddenly interrupted, mocking her, “Do you think I should trust you? You, poor wretch, the first time I saved you, you said, ‘I’ll die before I go back with you.’ Ha, I bet you’re a runaway from a wealthy family. Judging by your look, either you’ve fled from home, or you’re a criminal who absconded with a stash. Either way, I don’t believe you’ll reward me if you get home.”

He then offered her a strange comfort. “No need to be so pessimistic. We’re going to find that dragon—who knows, maybe a wizard already killed it, and you won’t have to be used as bait. So, if you believe in the gods, pray.”

This damned mud dweller, he had no idea what awaited him ahead!

Those people… could it really be them? It must be! They’ve come for me!

If they find me, my fate will be to be taken back…

But this mud dweller, he might… no, not might, he will be killed! Her uncle’s character was clear to her; to cover up the scandal, he’d kill anyone who might expose it. Besides, for someone of her uncle’s status, this mud dweller was less than an ant, easily crushed without a second thought.

Though the mud dweller was rough with her, he had saved her three times already.

How could she persuade him not to keep heading north?

…

…

Without the Wretch’s reminders, by nightfall, Shaya was acutely aware he’d run into some unexpected trouble.

In truth, throughout the day’s journey, he’d been hoping for the appearance of the goblin lord called “Skybreaker”—to be honest, he was eager to meet the legendary pioneer of goblin passion. Unfortunately, the lord Skybreaker never showed up. Despite capturing a dozen goblin warriors, for some reason the goblin tribe sent no more fighters.

The one he waited for did not come, yet ahead lay a scene he had not anticipated.

By evening, Shaya and his companions finally reached the river Ox had mentioned. It was winter, the season of drought; the riverbed was dry, its width reduced to less than a third of its former span, and its water level so low that even dwarves or goblins could wade across easily, barely reaching their knees.

On the riverbank, they encountered a camp.

It was a small goblin settlement.

No—more precisely, it had “once been” a goblin settlement.

From afar, a stench assaulted them. They saw the ruins of a round earth wall, mostly collapsed, with a few mangled goblin corpses sprawled atop it, marked by hoofprints.

Within the ruined earth walls, not a single goblin survived. Several earth huts had been smashed, and in front of the village stood a withered old tree. Upon its trunk hung two goblin corpses.

These two, hung from the tree, appeared to be among the larger, burly goblins—likely the chiefs of the tribe.

Besides them, dozens more goblin bodies littered the ground, scattered haphazardly, with signs of fierce battle everywhere. Crude goblin weapons lay strewn about: broken swords and axes, shattered, poor-quality leather shields.

Faced with this bloody scene, the Wretch nearly fainted. Shaya, however, became solemn, his eyes full of strange light. “Stay here and don’t move!”

He tore a strip of cloth, stuffed it in his mouth and nose, and strode alone into the slaughtered goblin settlement.

Beside a demolished hut, Shaya found a broken goblin short spear. He picked it up and examined where it had been snapped.

“What a sharp cut!” Shaya narrowed his eyes. “Such clean technique!”

The longer he looked, the more intense his gaze grew. He took a deep breath, then swung his battle axe to break the short spear.

With a crisp crack, he looked down at the cut, scrutinized it, and frowned in disappointment. “No, mine isn’t as smooth.”

Thinking further, he felt unwilling to accept it. “Hmm, maybe my weapon isn’t as sharp as theirs.”

Whoever attacked this place either possessed superior martial skills or much finer weapons than his own…

And, according to the traditions of the Wildfire Plains, encountering such ruthless killers in the wild was never good news.