As morning light just spread over the mushroom fields in Blackrock Spire's western district, the air was filled with the scent of damp earth and the sweet fragrance of mushrooms.
Three secondary mushroom fields merged into an emerald ocean, with layers of giant green mushroom caps overlapping like countless opened umbrellas, and crystal-clear dew drops sliding down the edges, splashing onto the busy hobgoblins below.
The goblins pushed short-legged pump pump carts, their baskets filled with fermented mushroom residue—this was Skarsnik's invented "special effect fertilizer," which, when sprinkled in the fields, made the mushrooms grow faster.
They tiptoed, evenly sprinkling the mushroom residue at the base of the mushrooms, their short legs moving quickly along the ridges, afraid of being scolded by the "Master" if they were slow.
The hobgoblins, on the other hand, carried special wooden rakes, carefully loosening the soil in the mushroom fields, with soft cloth wrapped around the rake teeth to avoid scratching the mushroom stalks—this was also Skarsnik's rule; anyone who damaged a mushroom had to wash wine vats in the winery for three days.
And the "instigator" of all this was sprawled on a hay bale in the center of the mushroom field, cradling a football-sized squig.
The squig was earthy yellow all over, its plump body like a moldy potato, supported only by two short legs, and it was rubbing its small head against Skarsnik's chin, making a "gurgling" sound—this was Skarsnik's beloved pet, named "Tudan," which he had picked from a pile of squig eggs, and it was said to be able to sense poisonous mushrooms in advance.
Skarsnik squinted, a dried mushroom stalk in his mouth, one hand stroking Tudan's head, the other waving casually: "That patch on the left! Not enough fertilizer! Didn't you hear Tudan grumbling?"
The two goblins on the left side of the ridge were startled and immediately sprinkled more mushroom residue from their pump pump carts into the field, then bowed obsequiously towards the hay bale: "Master Ska, we'll sprinkle enough now!"
No one dared to disrespect Skarsnik. This hobgoblin had a pointy nose, monkey-like cheeks, and a face full of wrinkles, and usually walked around with his hands tucked in, looking arrogant, but everyone knew he was the tribe's "Mushroom Lucky Star."
Since he took over the mushroom fields, he not only expanded the original scattered small mushroom fields into three secondary fields but also figured out methods like fertilizing with mushroom residue and irrigating with swamp water, which nearly doubled mushroom production—previously, the tribe's mushrooms were only enough for brewing wine and eating themselves, but now they could brew twenty more barrels of wine and also dry them to sell to Antonio's merchant guild; mushroom jerky alone could be exchanged for ten bags of iron ore.
With this ability, Skarsnik naturally had the capital to be arrogant.
He didn't need to work in the fields; he just lay on the hay bale and gave orders, and the hobgoblins obediently followed; his shack was the most comfortable in the tribe, laid with three layers of mushroom skin blankets and even silk pillows sent by Antonio; even the boss, Kurzadh, had to give way to him—last time Kurzadh wanted to build a warehouse next to the mushroom fields, Skarsnik said "it blocks the sun for the mushrooms," and Kurzadh obediently moved the warehouse to the northern district.
"Alright, alright, that's it for today." When the sun was directly overhead, Skarsnik finally stretched, picked up Tudan, and jumped off the hay bale.
The hobgoblins immediately stopped their work, looking at him expectantly—as long as Master Ska nodded, today's work would be finished.
Skarsnik clapped the hay dust from his hands and muttered to Tudan: "Come on, I'll take you for a walk in the forest, see if any good new mushrooms have sprouted." With that, he leisurely walked towards the depths of the Forest of Gloom, and the hobgoblins and goblins watched his retreating figure, only then daring to sit down and rest, secretly taking out dried mushrooms hidden in their bosoms to munch on.
No one worried about Skarsnik's safety.
The Forest of Gloom now was no longer the chaotic mess it was a year ago—Keziaz, with his night hobgoblins riding Death Crawlers, had explored every path in the forest, with a hidden outpost every ten li; the Khyprian road from the forest to the edge of the swamp was even more firmly controlled by the Blackrock Clan; merchant caravans had to pay a "management fee" to pass, and any unfamiliar humans or hobgoblins approaching would be targeted by night hobgoblin poison arrows before they even saw the tribe's camp.
Kurzadh had specifically instructed "to keep a low profile," and coupled with the complex forest terrain, the mushroom fields and Blackrock Spire were hidden deep within the dense forest, making it impossible for human and dwarf scouts to find them.
So Skarsnik felt more at ease wandering the forest than in his own shack—he walked slowly, occasionally bending down to part the grass to see if any new wild mushrooms had grown, picking those he liked and putting them in his bosom, and throwing the poisonous ones to the few small goblins following behind him.
These small goblins were his specially trained "mushroom detectors," all black, only as big as dogs, with a sense of smell more acute than hobgoblins; as soon as they ate a poisonous mushroom, they would immediately foam at the mouth, and Skarsnik would know at a glance which mushrooms were edible.
At this moment, three small goblins followed behind him, wagging their short tails, occasionally picking up the mushrooms he threw to them and eating with relish.
After about half an hour, the sound of rushing water came from ahead—that was Crescent Lake deep in the forest, with clear water and surrounded by reeds, a place Skarsnik often visited.
He walked to the lakeside, squatted down, and holding Tudan, looked at his reflection in the lake, muttering: "Look at my handsome face, much better looking than the boss' fierce hide."
Tudan seemed to understand, rubbing his small head against Skarsnik's face, making a "gurgling" sound.
But just then, Tudan suddenly broke free from Skarsnik's embrace, jumped to the ground, and roared furiously at the reeds on the opposite side of the lake—his plump body tensed, tiny teeth exposed in his mouth, eyes wide open, and all his earthy-yellow fur stood on end.
Skarsnik was startled, and then his face darkened.
Tudan never cried out for no reason, unless he sensed danger.
He abruptly turned his head and looked towards the reeds—he saw the reed stalks rustle, and a green figure suddenly darted out, landing on the muddy ground by the lake.
It was a beastman!
It was an Angor beast, less than two meters tall, a head shorter than the Orc Boyz in the tribe, with two short, curved horns on its head, their tips stained with mud; its body was covered with sparse green fur, the hair on its chest matted together and stained with dried blood; it held a sharpened wooden spear in its hand, with a few reed leaves still hanging from the spearhead; a pair of murky eyes stared intently at Skarsnik, saliva dripping from its mouth, making strange "ho-ho" sounds.
Skarsnik's heart sank—Angor beasts were the light scouts of the beastmen, fast and skilled at moving through forests, but how could they have run so deep into the Forest of Gloom? Were the beastmen tribes planning to enter the forest?
Before he could think further, the Angor beast let out a fierce roar and, grasping its wooden spear, lunged at him.
The spearhead whistled through the air, aiming straight for Skarsnik's chest—although an Angor beast's combat power was not as great as a Great Horned beast's, it was enough to deal with a hobgoblin.
But Skarsnik wasn't flustered at all.
He even took a step back, clapped the mud from his hands, and then blew a sharp whistle towards the dense forest behind him— "Whoosh—!"
As soon as the whistle ended, a rustling sound came from the dense forest, and then, more than thirty dark little goblins rushed out of the woods! Each of these goblins was as big as a dog, their plump bodies running incredibly fast, their two short legs churning like wheels, their gaping mouths full of dagger-like teeth, their eyes glowing red, as they pounced on the Angor beast.
The Angor beast paused, then showed a cruel smile—in his opinion, these little guys weren't even enough to get stuck in his teeth.
He swung his wooden spear, thrusting it at the leading small squig, the spearhead accurately piercing the squig's body.
But before he could pull out the spear, three other small goblins pounced on his legs, their sharp teeth biting fiercely into his green fur, making him cry out in an "ow" of pain.
More small goblins surrounded him, some biting his arms, some his neck, some even burrowing into his clothes, furiously tearing at his skin.
The Angor beast desperately swung its wooden spear, killing a few small goblins, but there were too many goblins, like a swarm of black ants, densely crawling all over his body.
He tried to escape, but his legs were bloody from the bites of the small goblins, and he fell to the ground after taking just one step.
The small goblins seized the opportunity, pouncing on him and savagely biting his head—with a "crunch," the largest small squig bit off his neck, and the Angor beast's head rolled into the muddy water by the lake, its eyes still wide open, as if unable to believe it would be killed by a bunch of little creatures.
The small goblins were still furiously tearing at the Angor beast's corpse, and Skarsnik walked forward, blowing a short whistle at them.
The small goblins immediately stopped, jumping off the corpse and gathering around him, wagging their short tails, still holding bits of torn flesh in their mouths, like a group of puppies waiting for praise.
Skarsnik, however, was not in the mood to praise them.
He squatted down, looking at the Angor beast's corpse, his face grim—this was no ordinary beastmen scout; his wooden spear was carved with Chaos patterns, and his green fur was stained with dried human blood, clearly having just come from a human village.
beastmen never acted alone; the appearance of one Angor beast here meant that a beastmen tribe was very likely following behind him.
And the Forest of Gloom was the Blackrock Clan's territory; if the beastmen dared to come in and steal things, that would be a slap in the Blackrock Clan's face.
"Tudan, come on, back to the tribe." Skarsnik picked up Tudan, glanced at the Angor beast's corpse again, and waved at the small goblins, "Drag this thing back, let the boss see it."
The small goblins immediately picked up the Angor beast's corpse and followed him, walking towards Blackrock Spire.
The waters of Crescent Lake were still clear, but they reflected Skarsnik's solemn face—he knew that the appearance of this Angor beast was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, and it would soon stir up waves in the Blackrock Clan.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering on the forest path.
Skarsnik's pace was much faster than when he arrived, and Tudan in his arms seemed to sense his tension, obediently lying in his embrace, no longer "gurgling."
Only the goblins behind him were still excitedly carrying the Angor beast's corpse.