Chương 50: Goblins Need Their Own "Spiritual Subjects"

Li Qinwu snapped awake from his nightmare, beads of sweat rolling down his face. In the vision, his nation was razed, and his people slaughtered—the sheer humiliation and indignation sent his heart rate soaring to 180. He turned his head sharply, his distorted expression filled with a killing intent so fierce that Dog-Witch tumbled backward in terror.

"Boss... a hallucination! Whatever you saw, it was just a dream!" Dog-Witch shrieked. Li Qinwu closed his eyes, rubbing his temples until the bloodlust faded, though he looked deeply aged.

"Dog-Witch... are you sure what the [Fear] spell shows is just a hallucination?" Dog-Witch exhaled in relief.

"I learned the spell by worshipping the statue of the Cursed Dragon. I'm just a user, I don't know the theory. But they say the Cursed Dragon's sister is the Prophet Dragon... perhaps their magical frameworks share some overlap?" Li Qinwu dismissed him and stared at the ceiling. Overlap? If that future was a prophecy, then peace is an illusion. The next morning, the tribe center was a sea of iron and scales. Six phalanxes stood in perfect formation.

At the front was the System Guard: Horned-Crocodile heavy armor, visored helmets, iron axes, and shields. Behind them were five Spear Companies, led by system officers. Two months of hellish drills had turned these chaotic pests into soldiers. No one spoke; no one fidgeted. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Warriors!" Li Qinwu roared.

"Your sweat and blood are rewarded today! Today, we officially form our army! We are— The Retribution Legion!"

"RETRIBUTION! RETRIBUTION!" The roar of 600 voices shook the forest.

"Our creed: Punish the enemy! Punish the beasts! Punish the Gods! If they stand in our way, even gods shall die!" Li Qinwu drew his sword, pointing toward the Kobold territory.

"Seek merit! Claim your titles! MARCH!" The legion moved out like a single organism. The Goblin infants watched with wide, awe-struck eyes; the desire to follow the strong was now etched into their souls. The adult Ogres roared blessings in their guttural tongue, hoping for the return of their kin. Even the captive Kobolds watched with indifference—national identity meant nothing compared to a full belly. In the back of the crowd, Butler Monde watched with a sinking heart.

Li Qinwu's ability to "de-wild" Goblins and turn them into a disciplined workforce was more terrifying than any dragon. He crept up to Young Master Lance, who was heading to the fields with a hoe. Lance was tanner and broader now, his silk rags replaced by sturdy linen.

"Master! Let's run!" Monde hissed.

"The main force is gone. Only 'One-Ear' is left. We can cover ourselves in mud to hide our scent from the trackers. We can make it!" Lance stopped and looked at him like he was insane.

"Are you suicidal? It's forty days back to the kingdom. What do we eat? How do we survive the beasts? Did you forget what happened to the last deserters?"

"Master... tell me the truth," Monde whispered.

"Do you even want to leave?" Lance sighed, looking at his small patch of green sprouts.

"Monde, what's left for us back home? My father was a rebel. We're outcasts. No more noble games, no more lies. It's exhausting." He hefted his hoe.

"Here, I work, I harvest, I eat. The Chief said the land belongs to the collective, but I have a 60-year usage right. Who lives for 60 years? This is my land." Monde felt a chill. He realized Li Qinwu hadn't just captured their bodies; he had colonized their spirits.