Goblin Dependency-Chapter 229 - 128: Blood Sacrifice

Deep inside the Mist Forest.

The chirping of insects mixed with the gentle breeze rustling through the forest, echoing faintly in the air.

The dense canopy blocked the blazing sun overhead, casting dim light and scattering spots of brightness on the leaf-covered, soft ground.

Silence.

Apart from the noticeably thicker mist than in the outer areas, there seemed to be no difference.

It was even quieter, as if it were just an ordinary and common dense forest.

But if you linger for a while or continue to venture deeper.

The massive shadows occasionally flitting from the darkness among the bushes, the deep scales embedded in the surface of tree trunks, the chilling stares from unknown places within blind spots, and the half-exposed pale bone emerging from the meadow by the roadside...

They will tell you why adventurers, who always value money above life, would rather toil daily between various filthy and barren goblin nests than take two more days’ walk to come here to earn hundreds or thousands of Gold Coins.

"Creak."

The heavy, hard iron boots stepped lightly and steadily.

Mercilessly crushing the tender sprout struggling to tap nutrients from the soil, barely squeezing out from the leaf gaps.

Leaving a deep footprint on the dark, damp ground.

A man clad in heavy armor, holding a red-brown Longsword, walked silently at the forefront of the team.

His face hidden beneath a streamlined iron helmet, obscuring his appearance.

Only a pair of serious, resolute eyes could be seen, reflected from the iron face’s holes, gazing at the dark, deep road ahead.

Behind him were two figures, one burly and one slim.

Skin green, muscles bulged like solid rock under the Totem Chest Armor.

A tall, robust Half orc.

Two positions to his right, slimmer in build, was the Mage clad in an indigo ramie robe, with a genteel appearance.

A tall Golden haired Elf trailed at the back, her right hand resting on the hilt of a Fine Sword at her waist, her race’s unique eyes darting side to side, wary of potential dangers around.

This team of High level Professionals, who once had a brief encounter with Xia Nan at the adventurer association, had now thoroughly penetrated the Mist Forest and was advancing towards its core area.

Very professional.

Even though, given the current depth of their incursion, there likely were no demons around capable of posing a threat.

The entire team still displayed caution and meticulousness far beyond that of ordinary adventurers.

The man in full heavy armor, silent and resolute warrior, stationed alone at the forefront of the team, maintaining a slight distance from the others.

The male Elf responsible for bringing up the rear stepped lightly, appearing not to make any unnecessary moves, yet subtle breezes and fallen leaves swirled around his body as he moved.

Even the Half orc barbarian, named "Volga", usually driven by emotions and regarded as reckless by the world, after venting his anger on the goblins two days prior, held his tongue and marched quietly within the team.

And at the center of the team, subtly surrounded and protected, the genteel man held a staff emitting a gentle, faint white light.

As the center, one could notice the whole team was enveloped by a nearly invisible layer of transparent light that only revealed its general outline when it clashed with the sunlight seeping through the canopy above during movement.

Buzz——

The corner of the light shield suddenly blurred and distorted.

The genteel man’s gaze instantly locked onto it, but in the next second, his expression relaxed.

"Ssha..."

The bushes shook violently.

A rabbit, covered in grass seeds and leaf fragments, suddenly bounded out from within.

The two dark eyes, button-like, examined the towering figures ahead.

Under the faint glow, this nimble little creature living in the perilous woodland seemed to have lost its Perception ability for danger.

It paused abruptly, only to react suddenly.

But, it was too late.

Just as it turned around, a green hand, as if it were an iron clamp, securely grasped its neck, lifting it up with ease.

"Hey, Long Ears, rabbit, tasty, how to cook?"

The stout arm remained unmoved under the rabbit’s struggling legs. The Half orc Volga, holding this poor little beast, asked the Golden haired Elf behind him.

"You ask me?"

The Elf showed some helplessness but seemed already accustomed to the other’s straightforwardness.

He made a gesture in front of his chest as if roasting meat, his right hand airily circling twice, and perfunctorily said:

"Tasty, roasted is good."

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