Chapter 23: Two Reasons

Shaya meticulously searched through the goblin tribe, counting a total of one hundred sixty-four goblin corpses, regardless of age. To Shaya, an experienced hunter, it was clear that all had died from fatal blows. The goblins had resisted, but were unable to mount any effective counterattack. They had tried to flee, but the hoofprints surrounding the tribe revealed that their assailants possessed far greater mobility—there was simply no escape for the goblins.

Many had been killed while scrambling over the earthen walls in desperate flight. Shaya pulled an arrow from one of the bodies and weighed it in his hand. An armor-piercing arrow? His eyes gleamed. The shaft was made of metal, heavier than usual, designed specifically to penetrate armor. In Wildfire Town, only the most powerful mercenary bands used such arrows, and even then only sparingly, when faced with formidable foes.

Yet here—those who attacked had used such expensive arrows to slaughter mere goblins? Sharp weapons, savage cruelty, swift horsemen, deadly precision. To wipe out more than a hundred goblins in one fell swoop, leaving not a single survivor—such methods were rare even on the Wildfire Plains. Only a few notorious black tribes would commit such acts. But even those tribes wouldn’t waste their effort slaughtering goblins; goblins were as poor as beggars, there was nothing to gain, unless one was oddly fond of their questionable dried meats.

Walking the perimeter, Shaya stopped, closed his eyes, and pondered. The hoofprints, bloodstains, footprints, and bodies seemed chaotic, but in his mind, a faint trail of clues quickly emerged. The distribution of hoofprints, the placement of the corpses, even the direction in which they had fallen, all reminded Shaya of certain details buried in memories—perhaps descriptions from those yellowed books he’d once peeked at.

Opening his eyes, Shaya’s face was grave. He circled the tribe once more, organizing his thoughts into a clearer picture.

More than twenty, no more than thirty, all mounted, skilled archers among them, divided into three squads. One squad blocked the tribe’s entrance, broke down the gate, and drove the goblins into chaos, forcing them to scatter and scale the walls. The other two squads flanked the tribe, herding the fleeing goblins along the walls, shooting some with arrows and hunting down any who escaped. Their weapons were finely crafted, their martial prowess surpassed that of ordinary mercenaries. Their horsemanship was impressive as well—evident from their ability to ride over walls not easily cleared by horse.

Less than thirty men had slaughtered over a hundred goblins, with zero casualties, and not a single goblin escaped. Such disciplined tactics were beyond even the most infamous black gangs of the Wildfire Plains. Those gangs were ruthless, but lacked this kind of swift, efficient, and merciless skill.

The more Shaya thought about it, the more oppressive the feeling became, as if he couldn’t breathe. He took a few deep breaths, struggling to suppress a mounting unease.

“Well, how is it?” The pitiful girl, seeing Shaya return, seemed unable to stand, her face pale, cold sweat beading on her forehead, anxiously asking.

“What else? They’re all dead.” Shaya slung his axe over his shoulder, noticing her pallor. “Hey, why is your face so white?”

“Uh... the wound hurts a bit.”

“Why’s your leg shaking?”

“Mm... I feel cold.”

Shaya looked her over seriously, then suddenly grinned, stepped forward, and ruffled her hair with a heavy hand, laughing heartily. “Scared? Hahaha! Don’t worry, as long as I’m here, nothing will happen to you. You’re my Sosso—I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you.”

The pitiful girl was annoyed at his careless laughter, but soon found herself warmed by it, letting him mess up her hair without protest. This country boy... perhaps he really can protect me...

Compared to her anxiety, the goblins showed not the slightest fear or pity upon seeing the slaughtered tribe. On the contrary, they beamed at the ruins ahead, erupting in gleeful Ok-Ok laughter. Goblins—born for internecine strife.

“Aren’t they worried at all?” The pitiful girl was confused.

“They’re always like this. Goblins love nothing better than seeing their kin suffer—even those from their own tribe. Let alone when it’s another tribe.” Shaya finished, walked over, kicked the happiest goblin warrior onto its back, swung his axe in a gesture.

Mr. Princess marched over, head held high and belly puffed out, barking orders to drive the goblin warriors onward.

Under Shaya’s command, the group didn’t travel far, but crossed the riverbed beside the goblin tribe and set up camp on the opposite bank.

Shaya continued to act the part of the crude country boy, berating the goblin warriors and leaving all the hauling and fire-building to these “Sossos.” Yet the pitiful girl noticed subtle changes in him—though he still laughed and cursed, his eyes occasionally flashed with the sharpness of a wild beast. As night fell, Shaya sat by the river, gazing at the lifeless ruins across the water. His eyes narrowed, a glint of calculation appearing from time to time. Finally, he turned to the pitiful girl, his tone calm, but his words made her heart skip.

“Hey…” Shaya looked at her. “Be alert tonight. We might have to get up and run at any moment.”

“???” She was startled, hands trembling, dropping her water flask to the ground.

Shaya smiled, but his gaze was serious. Pointing across the river, his tone casual. “Those people probably haven’t gone far. From the hoofprints, I can see they split into several groups after the slaughter. I’m worried we might run into them. Whoever they are, judging by their methods, it won’t be a pleasant encounter.”

“Then why are we still here?” Her voice could not hide its fear. “Why did you camp so early today?”

“Because this is probably the safest spot.” Shaya replied confidently. “They’ve just slaughtered this place. After leaving, they’re unlikely to return.”

He stuck a few pieces of wolf meat on his fire fork, roasted them, and handed one to the pitiful girl. “Eat. No matter what happens, a full belly is always a blessing.”

He gestured to another nearby campfire, where Mr. Princess was barking orders like a jailer at the goblin warriors. Shaya hadn’t abused the goblin prisoners further, even sharing a chunk of wolf meat. Of course, a dozen goblins splitting a single piece meant each got only a bite or two.

“We probably shouldn’t have brought these goblin captives,” the pitiful girl mused. “If we went alone, we’d be less conspicuous, harder to spot, and easier to hide if trouble came.”

Shaya laughed, giving her a mocking look and sighing. “Whatever you are, to have survived this long on the Wildfire Plains is divine providence. Let me tell you: I’m certain those people are professional butchers—experts in slaughter. Whether they’re a top thieves’ guild, a band of rebel deserters, or mercenaries gone mad, they’re veterans. If we really run into them, don’t hope to escape their notice. An old hand can track a scent carried on the wind. That’s why it’s even more necessary to bring these goblin captives.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons.” Shaya grinned, chewing on roasted wolf meat. “First, if we run into those butchers, the goblins will draw their attention—we might have a chance to escape. Second… if we’re lucky and don’t meet them, when we find that dragon, the goblins will make excellent bait—which is good for you.”

The pitiful girl glanced at the “Sossos” nearby and sighed, confirming once more: however much of a country bumpkin he seemed, he was certainly no simpleton.