Chương 94: 94：An Offer You Can't Refuse

At the words "provide food and refined iron," the emaciated goblin guards surrounding them, clutching their scavenged stone spears, noticeably gulped, their Adam's apples bobbing. Soren raised a third finger, his gaze turning piercing and aggressively invasive.

"Third, and most importantly."

"There isn't a single creature in this world that doesn't yearn to see the light of day. You possess a unique method for purifying water, yet you're forced to cower in the dark, gnawing on mushrooms!"

"Ally with me against the Blackstone Orcs, and I give you my word." Soren took a commanding step forward.

"I can provide you with a vastly expanded living space. Once our alliance is forged, I will personally guarantee all material supplies for this lonely peak!"

"You!" The instant Soren pinpointed "water purification," Luger jolted up from his makeshift giant-shield throne as if struck by lightning. A violent shudder finally broke through his grayish-green face. That was the peak's greatest trump card—the very foundation of their survival! And this human had somehow deduced it entirely on his own! Simultaneously, Luger recalled the scouts' reports from the previous night: A human phalanx that slaughtered hundreds of Orcs, leaving no survivors.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and a profound chill gripped his heart. Soren wasn't just terrifying in terms of raw combat power. His razor-sharp military intuition and negotiation tactics were nothing short of monstrous! Having the metaphorical blade of such a man pressed against his throat, Luger knew that refusing now would likely bring down the thunderous, slaughtering wrath of Greywater Village upon them all.

Catching the flicker of hesitation in Luger's eyes, Soren didn't afford him a single second to breathe.

"What are you still hesitating for, Luger? Are you still dreaming of your peaceful days in this damp cave?" Soren's expression darkened as he suddenly barked, "Wake up! The pathetic survival you take so much pride in ended half an hour ago!" Soren locked eyes with the Hobgoblin leader, his gaze freezing cold.

"Relying on my extensive scouting experience, I'm giving you advanced warning: right at this very moment, your camp is facing total annihilation."

"Earlier, when I crossed the swamp, I spotted a fully armed Orc unit several kilometers to the southeast, marching across the dried mud flats. They are rapidly closing in on this very peak."

"And these aren't your run-of-the-mill Orcs in crude Black Iron armor..." Soren stared deep into Luger's eyes.

"They are vastly better equipped. They are an execution squad meant for precise slaughter—the [Blacksteel Orc Elites]!"

"And their target points straight at this peak." Blacksteel Elites! Those two words were synonymous with a death sentence for bottom-feeding creatures like Goblins. Blacksteel armor was a full tier above Black Iron; those who wore it were true, invulnerable elites! Luger's mind practically exploded! It felt as if a taut string in his chest had violently snapped. His thoughts immediately shot to the [Spatial Ring with a Tracking Mark] that he had just ordered stored in the cellar!

The ring that had been constantly emitting a magical pulse! The Blackstone Tribe's tracking unit had actually arrived! But out of a tribal leader's final, desperate struggle for control, Luger's eyes turned bloodshot, his emotions flaring wildly.

"How do you know they're Blacksteel Orcs?! What makes you so sure they're coming for us? Did you see them draw their great-axes with your own eyes?!" Luger slammed a massive fist into his shield-throne, roaring, "Evidence! Lord Soren! If you want to intimidate me, you need to show me hard, tangible proof that they are right beneath our feet!" Soren remained utterly unfazed. Facing the frantic Hobgoblin, he simply gave a slight shrug.

"Evidence? Unfortunately, given the marching speed of soldiers burdened by heavy Blacksteel armor, they should currently be about three kilometers away from the base of this peak."

"I could only judge their identity based on their scent, the extent of the crushed flora in their wake, and their silhouettes from a distance. As it stands, I don't hold any physical proof of their arrival in my hands." Luger gritted his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. He was frantically trying to deduce if this was just an elaborate bluff—a lie spun by Soren to force an alliance! However. A moment later.

"Enemy attack!" A shrill, distorted scream echoed from the very bottom of the plank walkways, piercing all the way up to the top-level cavern hall! A goblin guard, caked in muddy water, stumbled wildly up the stone steps. A short-handled throwing axe was brutally embedded in his arm. He face-planted at the entrance of the grand hall, coughing up bright red bloody froth:"Chief... the enemy is attacking! It's a massive horde of Orcs in heavy Blacksteel armor!"

"Our Toxic Vine Barrier... they burned right through it with fire! The bottom stone gates won't hold!" You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. BOOM! Right at that moment, a massive, deafening crash reverberated from the absolute bottom of the peak! It was the sound of heavy Blacksteel warhammers slamming into the rock face. Deathly silence consumed the hall. Every single goblin, including the Hobgoblin Luger, snapped their heads around.

With profoundly complicated gazes—looking at him as if he were the Grim Reaper, yet simultaneously their one and only savior—they stared at Soren, who still stood casually in the center of the hall with his hands clasped behind his back. Panic rippled rapidly through the hundred-plus goblins in the hall. These subterranean creatures, who were used to eking out a pathetic existence in the cracks of the world, tucked their chins as their teeth began to chatter violently.

To them, the legendary Blacksteel Orcs meant Death itself was knocking at their door. However, Luger was ultimately the leader of this small goblin enclave. After enduring the initial wave of sheer shock, he caught a glimpse of Soren out of the corner of his eye, standing there with an unbothered expression. I absolutely cannot show weakness in front of this human, Luger thought to himself.

If he acted like a frightened quail now, even if they formed an alliance, his clan would be treated as nothing more than disposable slaves meant to fill enemy trenches. He had to display the true value of the goblins in front of this unreasonably formidable human warlord! Luger straightened his towering, one-point-nine-meter frame. On his broad, ugly face, he forcefully stretched out a fierce, unnervingly steady sneer.

"What are you panicking for?!" A roar like muffled thunder exploded from Luger's throat, shaking the cavern enough to make dust drift down from the glowing moss on the ceiling.

"It's just a bunch of greenskin bastards wearing iron shells! Do you really think this peak is a leaky colander with the wind blowing right through it?" Luger waved his massive hand. He casually yanked a tattered wolf pelt that draped over his chair, subtly wiping the cold sweat from his palms, before slowly walking up to Soren. He then gestured in a standard, polite manner.

"Lord Soren, a visitor from afar is an honored guest."

"Since the greenskin bastards outside want to bite, why don't you take a seat, my Lord? Have a cup of berry wine brewed from stalactite water, and enjoy a good show of our Goblin Clan's defensive counterattack." Soren gave Luger a deep, calculating look. His sharp eyes naturally caught the faint trace of bravado hidden in the corners of the Hobgoblin's eyes. But he didn't expose the bluff; instead, a sliver of genuine appreciation grew in his heart.

The fact that this Hobgoblin knew how to put on a brave front during extreme adversity to increase his bargaining chips proved that his intellect far surpassed that of an ordinary goblin.

"Very well." Soren's expression remained perfectly calm. With the clinking of his armor, he sat down smoothly.

"I look forward to it." Meanwhile, in the flat, lower recesses of the peak. It was damp and deeply submerged in gloom. The only light came from a few torches, their scarlet flames dancing violently in the air. Clank. Clank. Clank. The sound of unified, militaristic footsteps echoed through the cavernous depths. One hundred Orc elites, clad in full-body heavy Blacksteel armor, advanced steadily down the wide underground passage like a relentless tide of black iron.

Unlike standard gear, the surface of their armor held no rust. Instead, it gleamed with a distinct, matte luster—the hallmark of metal tempered by a thousand hammer blows. This was Blacksteel, forged in the premier blast furnaces of the Blackstone Tribe. Even the lance of an ace knight would struggle to pierce it in a full-frontal charge. At the very front of the vanguard walked a hulking Orc Commander.

A ghastly white scar tore across his face, stretching from his forehead all the way down to his jaw, destroying one of his eyes in the process and leaving behind a single, bloodshot eye. His breathing was heavy; every exhale sent a thick cloud of white mist into the damp, chilly cave air.

"Commander, these underground rats don't even have a single lookout posted. Could it be a trap?" a lieutenant carrying a spiked shield murmured in a low, gravelly voice.

"A trap? From those dwarfish rejects?" The scarred Commander let out a disdainful snort. He tapped a compass-like bone artifact hanging from his waist. The needle on the artifact was flashing constantly with a faint, ghostly blue light, pointing directly upward.

"The ring that the Great Shaman locked onto is right at the top of this mountain! That is a divine artifact that Warchief Blackstone personally ordered us to retrieve!" The Commander abruptly drew the half-man-tall Blacksteel battleaxe from his back. The heavy blade caught the torchlight, reflecting a pale, deadly arc.

"All forces, advance! Within fifteen minutes, I want to flatten their grand hall and crush every single toad-looking goblin into bloody paste!"