Chapter Sixty-Nine: Clouds Stir in All Directions

In the divine realm, within the domain of the God of Knowledge and Diplomacy, Archangel Conrad finally detected that distinctive surge of divine power. After tracing its source, he was astonished to discover the magical array at the very edge of the Forsaken Land.

“How could it be in that place? Who is using this magical array?” he wondered deeply, lost in thought. After a moment, he suddenly lifted his head and thought, “No, I must report this to His Majesty at once. This matter is far too important.”

With that decision, he spread his wings and flew toward the temple of the divine sovereign.

In a secluded valley within the Forsaken Land, there lay a deep cave whose entrance was thickly covered with thorny plants, making it all but invisible to creatures outside. In the cave’s deepest chamber, two colossal mechanical golems stood on standby. Suddenly, red light flashed in the eyes of one, and it rumbled upright; the other soon followed suit. These were, in fact, the hidden forms of the Lord of Stars and the God of Earth.

“Your Majesty, Lord of Stars, did you sense the tremors below ground?” the God of Earth asked.

The Lord of Stars nodded, then added thoughtfully, “I felt not only the tremors, but also a force slowly growing beneath the earth. I suspect something is awakening.”

“It seems troubles come one after another. I’ll send someone to investigate,” the God of Earth sighed, then turned, the red glow in his eyes falling upon a large snow rat. The rat’s eyes grew dazed, but soon cleared and shone with intelligence. After chittering a few times, it burrowed into a nearby hole.

Not long after, a swift snow eagle flew out from the cave, circled overhead, then screeched and soared into the distance.

Deep beneath the Sun Licheng Valley Fortress, sounds of fierce combat echoed through the tunnels. A beast, resembling a giant lizard, was locked in battle with a towering mechanical golem. This golem was jet-black, slender, its armor far thicker than those at the goblin flying corps base. Eight arms wielded eight different weapons, like an Asura from Buddhist lore.

Though the beast was formidable, its razor-sharp claws—capable of slicing through rock—could not penetrate the golem’s armor. Overwhelmed by the storm-like onslaught, it finally collapsed, bloodied and defeated.

Seeing its foe incapacitated, the golem strode coldly forward; a flash of steel, and the lizard’s head was seized in its grasp. The golem examined the head, then with another blade split it in two. In an instant, another arm reached out and deftly snatched a piece of blue crystal that fell from the remains.

At that moment, a rumbling sounded as ten battle golems of varied forms emerged from the tunnel behind. They were battered and scarred, many with damaged weapons—clearly fresh from a brutal fight.

Led by the Asura-like golem, they approached a stone wall. Red light flickered in Asura’s eyes as it extended a hand. As its palm neared the wall, a small aperture opened; a metallic tendril shot forth, paused, then pierced the stone and burrowed inside.

Stone fragments flew as the tendril rotated; the grinding of gears echoed within the wall. With a thunderous crash, a disguised iron door slowly swung open, revealing a pitch-black passage winding to the surface.

Just then, a beastly roar erupted from the tunnel. Asura turned, and the ten battle golems behind it rotated to face the enemy.

Amid roars, dying screams, and the harsh rasp of weapons cleaving bone, the intruding monsters were annihilated.

After searching the corpses and finding no magic crystals, the golems returned.

A red glow flashed in Asura’s eyes; it turned and led the others into the passage. Once they were all inside, the iron door slammed shut with a heavy clang.

Meanwhile, far to the south in the heart of the continent, in a stone city tavern, a handsome half-elf strummed a five-stringed lyre, singing heroic epics. Before him sat a crowd of patrons drinking, and closest were several elegantly dressed noblewomen, their eyes ablaze as they gazed at him. They flaunted their ample bosoms and showered the half-elf with flirtatious glances.

Meeting the women’s ardent eyes, the half-elf smiled repeatedly, heightening their excitement.

Soon, amid cheers from the whole tavern, the half-elf finished his performance, evaded the women’s advances, and carried his lyre back to his room.

Upon entering, he immediately sensed something amiss: the small shrine on his desk was flashing with light. His expression grew solemn as he hurried over and knelt on one knee. A beam shone from the shrine, enveloping him in a haze that filled the room.

“So that’s how it is. Rest assured, my master, I’ll set out at once,” he replied respectfully, a cold smile at the corner of his lips.

An hour later, after purchasing a fine horse at the market, the half-elf galloped out of the city, heading north.

At this moment, Sun Licheng stood in the camp square. Before him, Mr. Dexterous wielded a whip, lashing it hard across a goblin’s backside. The goblin lay prone on a table, all four limbs tightly bound, unable to move. His pants had been stripped to intensify the pain; each lash left a thick bloody mark on his green rump. Not far away, the remaining twelve goblins shivered in a row, watching.

Amid the goblin’s screams and pleas, Mr. Dexterous delivered five solid lashes.

Once the unfortunate goblin was released, Sun Licheng stepped forward and shouted, “Where will you go to relieve yourselves from now on?”

“To the latrine!” the goblins answered.

“I didn’t hear you! Where will you go to relieve yourselves from now on?” Sun Licheng was dissatisfied with their response and raised his voice.

“To the latrine!” this time, all shouted with full force, including the one who’d just been whipped.

Truth be told, the beatings were due to the goblins’ persistent disobedience, relieving themselves wherever they pleased.

Since their arrival, camp construction had sped up considerably, but another issue arose: these goblins were filthy, utterly lacking any sense of hygiene.

Though Little Cabbage was ugly, she was fond of cleanliness and obedient. After using earthy soap, she always kept herself spotless.

The newly arrived thirteen goblins, however, loathed bathing. Only after Little Cabbage intervened did they grudgingly wash once daily.

Due to Sun Licheng’s limited supplies, the goblins wore leather garments crafted by goblins, but thanks to Mr. Dexterous’s handiwork, the stench had lessened.

All told, the thirteen goblins had barely become civilized in Sun Licheng’s eyes.

Yet, they disliked using the latrine, despite Little Cabbage’s repeated scoldings.

Finally, that morning, Sun Licheng stepped on a “mine” while going to wash up and erupted in fury.

For these unruly sorts, he resolved to use an iron hand, and the goblin responsible for the “mine” was seized and whipped by Mr. Dexterous.

For goblins still living in primitive ways, Sun Licheng was not foolish enough to believe education would work—Little Cabbage had already tried. The whip and stick would be their close companions.

Seeing the goblins punished, Little Cabbage’s expression was grim, but the young Medusa, Vina, watched with keen interest.

Since her arrival, everything fascinated Vina, especially the camp’s lofty dragon banner.

“What is this?” she asked. “Dragons aren’t like this! Their bellies are huge and they have big wings like bats. This is clearly a snake. Do you worship the Snake God like we do?”

For days now, Sun Licheng had endured Vina’s barrage of questions, much to his distress.

Only after explaining did Vina learn of another kind of dragon—one born as a deity.

The goblin who’d been beaten would get no food today; Sun Licheng believed he’d go to the latrine next time. Should he repeat the offense, ten lashes would await him.

After lunch, Sun Licheng decided to discuss goblin training with Mr. Dexterous.

Though the goblins had seen battle, their tactics barely qualified as bottom-tier; training was needed for them to handle combat duties.

“So this is how the Goblin Empire trains its soldiers?” Sun Licheng remarked after Mr. Dexterous’s explanation, finally understanding Spartan militarism. He recalled the film “300,” with its bare-chested, muscular warriors, and frowned. Such training bred only war-crazed brutes, no wonder the Goblin Empire lacked even computer games. He simply wished to return home, not revive the Goblin Empire’s madness. Besides, with only a handful of people, he dared not provoke those mighty factions with thousands in battle.

With that in mind, Sun Licheng resolved to adopt the training methods of the Flower Nation’s militia. He would teach literacy, instill discipline, and forge a strong fighting unit. As for weapons, he had ideas but would wait for results before crafting them.

“Forward, forward, forward, our ranks march toward the sun…” The goblins formed a column, marching to the mess under Mr. Dexterous’s command. Not only had Sun Licheng appropriated the Flower Nation’s name, he’d also borrowed its military anthem, hoping to build an otherworldly Flower Army.

“Sun Licheng, will this really work?” Vina, a warrior herself, was puzzled by his methods; in her view, personal valor was paramount.

“To be honest, I don’t know—let’s see how it goes. The main issue is, goblins and goblinfolk are just too frail; even if they wanted to be brave, it wouldn’t amount to much,” Sun Licheng admitted to the young girl. He was uncertain, but doing nothing left him even less certain.

Just then, Dogmeat rushed back. Sun Licheng knew someone had arrived, quickly ordered everyone to be alert, then mounted the Wolf King and headed for the small camp by the woods.

Upon arrival, barely had Sun Licheng caught his breath when a troop of deer cavalry burst from the trees—Martin and his companions had come.