NEC Chapter 98: The Joint Invasion of Goblins and Ogres

In the winter desert, even though the pale sun overhead looked cold and cheerless, the heat waves from the ground still distorted the air, scorchingly hot and frightening.

The sand grains made faint groaning sounds under boot soles, as if they might melt into glass at any moment.

Wood was quite accustomed to this.

Wood was an Iron Badge Warrior who came from the humid, sweltering lands at the southernmost edge of the Crescent Moon Federation. The temperature in his hometown was no different from here, the only distinction being that the desert was somewhat more arid.

Wood had heard the lord tell those around him that this was called... temperate desert climate.

As a scout, Wood spent most of his time sitting on the back of a sand beetle, patrolling along that long line of sand dunes, occasionally raising his telescope toward the distance.

The sand beetles were massive creatures, their bodies covered in thick, rough, pale yellowish-brown chitinous shells that gleamed with a metallic luster under the blazing sun.

Their six thick, powerful limbs ended in shovel-shaped hard claws that could easily dig through quicksand, making dull "swooshing" sounds as they walked.

Riders didn't sit on their smooth, arched backs, that place was dangerous, not just because a single jolt could throw someone off, but also because when two sand beetles encountered each other face-to-face, whether it was same-sex repulsion or opposite-sex attraction, they would involuntarily arch their backs.

Sitting on top was purely asking for trouble.

Wood's seat was at the junction between the sand beetle's chest and abdominal shell plates, where a vine-woven saddle was secured along the edge of the shell gap. The driver sat in front, the sentry behind, both strapped to the saddle with leather belts.

The patrol days were exceptionally boring. Apart from the heavily wrapped sand person handler in front, Wood often went entire days, even several days, without seeing another soul.

As a prisoner of war captured from Iron Back City, selected by the old clerk of Cloudmist Territory and sold to the current Lord of Vast Sea Territory, Wood didn't mind. Working for anyone was the same as long as there was food to eat.

After all, in these times, too many people couldn't get enough to eat.

Take the sand person in front, for example. Normally, he wrapped himself up tightly with his head cloth, only revealing two gray, dim eyes, looking incredibly aloof. But whenever the patrol team distributed meals, this fellow's mouth could stretch all the way to the back of his ears.

The patrol team's meals were ample, just no waste was allowed. For sand people, such days were like those of immortals.

Currently, the able-bodied men among the sand people were all working with the lord. Not only could they eat their fill, but they could also provide some support to the elderly and children back in their desert settlements.

Climbing up another high slope of a sand dune, Wood saw another sand beetle patrolling from the opposite direction.

That fellow was called Mushroom, a prisoner from the same batch as Wood. The two were brothers in misfortune, both having their names changed by Steward Herlan.

Mercenaries from the lower classes, what good names could they have? Their parents just called them whatever they saw.

Mushroom's original name was actually Mushroom, but Steward Herlan said that "Mo" and "Mo" had similar pronunciations, and they needed to avoid the lord's personal name taboo. This was called "avoiding the honored one's name," so the name "Mushroom" couldn't be used anymore. From now on, he'd be called Fungi.

As for Wood himself, his original name was Stone.

Steward Herlan said that the lord was at odds with Zircon Family, so it was best not to use the character "Stone" either. This was called "avoiding for the disliked."

So it was changed to Wood.

Later, when the lord found out, he scolded Steward Herlan so severely that he couldn't even lift his head, then publicly announced that everyone could use whatever name they liked without any impact.

Indeed, the lord was a good person.

Steward Herlan wasn't a bad person either. You could tell at a glance that he had served important figures, carrying himself with the bearing of great personages. So Wood didn't change his name back, just in case the lord became unhappy someday.

While thinking about this and that, he waved to Mushroom on the distant sand dune. The sand beetle turned around under the handler's control.

After walking several hundred more meters, suddenly the young sand person sitting in front pricked up his ears, yanked on the beetle's reins, rolled off its back, and quickly dug a shallow pit in the ground with his hands, sticking his head into it.

Within just a few breaths, the sand person pulled his head out, wiped the sand from all over his head and face, and called out in a somewhat hoarse voice, "North, people, many!"

This was a talent passed down through generations among sand people, the ability to track sand beetle movements across the vast desert by sensing the most minute tremors in the earth. When serving as sentries, it became the perfect tool for early warning.

Ten-odd minutes later, the two left their beetle in a sheltered sand hollow and crawled up the highest sand dune with the most expansive view like two lizards, hand and foot, silently and carefully poking out half their heads.

A long black line stretched across the distant endless yellow sands.

Wood lowered his voice, "How many people is this? Can you tell?"

The young sand person used one hand's thumb to measure against the setting sun, while the other hand's fingers measured from the front of that troop to its slowly moving rear, muttering to himself. After a long while, he rolled over and lay on the sand, "Here, two hundred, three hundred, many, more behind!"

The two relaxed their limbs and slid down from the top of the sand dune.

Wood rushed to the beetle, nimbly unfastened the leather pouch beside the saddle, and pulled out a folding metal rod. Extending it, pulling it out! The top clicked open with a "snap," forming a fishbone-shaped receiver. He thrust it forcefully into the sand, the top precisely aimed toward Vast Sea Territory, took a deep breath, and pressed down hard on that conspicuous red button!

The alarm, along with the radio signal, transmitted back to distant Vast Sea Territory.

Lord Chen Mo, who was using his cultivation break to inspect the basic preparation work of the seawater purification plant, soon received the message that an unknown force was advancing toward Vast Sea Territory.

Actually, there was no need to call it "unknown" anymore. The forward scouts had looked carefully through telescopes, and it was a standard ogre-goblin mixed force, the most common bandit team from the northern wastelands.

By the time Chen Mo returned to the temporary camp, the forward scouts had already sent back more accurate intelligence.

"This force is definitely not temporarily assembled. It should be a combination of several veteran mountain bandit troops!"

The territory's several leaders reported while secretly glancing at their lord's expression.

Very poor... was it anger? Or fear?

"We've already spotted at least six two-headed ogres. With such force, they could attack ordinary small orc tribes in the north. To cross such a long distance to find us, there must be major financiers behind them providing ample benefits!"

"Two-headed ogres? Are they very powerful?"

The nearby guard captain, old Silver Armor Lynn, finally encountered a field he was familiar with. He quickly stepped forward and explained to the lord with gestures.

"Ogres are naturally psionic creatures. They used to be classified as magical beasts!"

"When single-headed, they're just strong with thick skin and tough flesh. An unarmored one can fight an ordinary Iron Badge. After becoming two-headed, they gain spellcasting abilities."

"They can use several auxiliary spells on themselves and also attack with magic. Their strength immediately increases, almost equivalent to a Silver Armor warrior paired with a Moonring mage."

"Moreover, the longer they live, the stronger their magical abilities become. Among magical beasts, they're considered the most difficult to deal with."

Unlike humans and other races that require arduous cultivation, naturally psionic creatures, that is, those beings that don't need training and can automatically absorb spiritual energy from heaven and earth, include most magical beasts. As long as they reach the appropriate age, their level and skills automatically develop.

Two-headed ogres were undoubtedly among the elite of such creatures.

However, since the rise of humanity, no high-level magical beast could withstand mankind's slaughter.

Ogres had also declined from their peak of over a hundred communities to their current "critically endangered" status. Of course, no one here gave them protected species treatment.

"So, do ogres really eat people?"

Captain Lynn nodded, giving an affirmative reply.

Steward Herlan, having followed for some time, had basically figured out the lord's style and temperament, so he timely added, "Long ago, ogres didn't eat people. Later, after being hunted ruthlessly by humans, they began eating people..."

Chen Mo then returned to the back courtyard of the camp, that area guarded by skeletons and Simple Bull, off-limits to strangers, belonging to the lord's private garden.

As a slight fluctuation emanated, the territory's leaders knew that their lord had gone to seek external aid again.

While Vast Sea Territory tensed up like facing a great enemy, the force struggling through the desert was equally miserable.

The desert wasn't easy to traverse. Even though this force had found experienced veteran sand people as guides and brought sufficient supplies, the massive group still encountered constant problems along the way.

This caused considerable pain for the force's organizer, Silver Armor Warrior Larila.

Chen Mo's guess was correct. At this stage, the only one willing to pay such a high price to deal with him was Marquis Monroe of Zircon Family.

How did Chen Mo obtain his lord status? It was awarded by Emerald Duchy's Cloudmist Territory in recognition of his achievements!

His greatest achievement was joining young Lady Frost in penetrating the entire defense of Greenspine Kingdom, ultimately crossing the river under everyone's eyes and blasting down the Greenspine royal banner with a single shot.

With so many people present and magical detection eyes watching the camp, the loss of face was enormous.

So much so that even though Greenspine Kingdom was the victor in that war, completely devouring Emerald Duchy's South Pass Territory, the topic of conversation among nobles of all nations over tea remained that three-tower banner toppled in the rolling river waters.

Under these circumstances, as a legitimate heir of the marquis family and professional black glove, Captain Larila came to the northern orc plains with a death-defying resolve, began recruiting personnel there, and prepared to launch a massacre against Vast Sea Territory.

As for why they could only arrange to send Silver Armor at most? Unlike previous private vendettas, this was a grave crime violating the protection covenant recognized by all human races. Professional-tier individuals were all on close monitoring lists of various nations, their actions too conspicuous.

Sending non-professionals to do dirty work was just right.

Larila's recruitment went exceptionally smoothly. In just half a month, he pulled a massive bandit group out of the mountain valleys and cave lairs of the northern wastelands.

The number of goblin warriors exceeded six hundred. These ugly creatures could also cultivate, and those who succeeded in cultivation would be revered by goblins as great goblins.

Among the six hundred goblins, there were seventy-five great goblins, equivalent to over seventy entry-level warriors.

This wasn't all. Through the marquis's underground channels, he also pulled in an ogre community: six adult two-headed ogres and three juvenile single-headed small ogres.

Half a squad of magic-martial dual cultivators!

Larila personally led the team, with three other human warriors as support. Such team strength was enough to make small orc tribes in the northern wastelands flee in terror!

The dwarf allies not only provided Larila with communication resources and large amounts of money, but also generously supplied abundant marching supplies.

Why did the Seven-Radiance Garland know about the bandits' plan to attack Vast Sea Territory? The answer was that simple: the bandits' supplies were provided by them.

Of course, the greedy dwarves wouldn't do charity. To gain dwarf support in the north, the marquis opened casino and loan shark businesses in two territories to the dwarves.

Only those in the situation knew how great this cost was.

With ambitions to level Vast Sea Territory, leading this seemingly strong and well-supplied force, Larila was full of confidence, fantasizing about overwhelming victory.

However, from the first step onto this death desert, the nightmare began.

The current day-night temperature difference was seventy to eighty degrees. Daytime broiled raw meat, nighttime froze fresh food, causing the goblins, these stupid, filthy, lazy creatures with minds full of reproductive urges, to chatter and protest nonstop.

"Gah gah, my children's feet are almost cooked!"

"Humans, the little shinies you paid aren't enough for great goblin warriors to turn themselves into mummies. That way, there won't even be any edible meat left! Oh, none at all!"

Indeed, goblins truly ate everything. Not only grains, animals, and human flesh, but even flesh from their own goblin kin.

When extremely hungry, they wouldn't even spare rotten meat. Their bodies were on the same frequency as those filthy things, making them exceptionally resilient. Therefore, goblins could never be completely exterminated or killed off.

At night, there was more loud clamoring: "Cold, too cold. Such nights make me unable to even get hard!"

"We want to go back. We need enough furs before we can set out again!"

"Humans, you must apologize to the great goblins. You've deceived the goblins. The Long-tailed God will punish you with the most terrible constipation!"

Larila was driven to distraction, his temples throbbing.

Finally, after paying an additional "high temperature and severe cold allowance," the goblins reluctantly agreed to march during the relatively "mild" temperature periods of early morning and evening.

The originally planned eight-day journey was instantly stretched to over twenty days.

Just as this side was settled, the ogres caused more trouble.

Entering the desert environment, it was impossible to carry large numbers of livestock, and ogres were creatures that couldn't go without meat. Larila could only hire sand people, using their sand beetles as pack animals to transport large quantities of dried meat as food for the ogres.

Then, after eating dried meat for a while, the female ogres in the group stopped lactating.

The small ogres cried desperately, their voices like broken gongs, piercing through the entire camp.

Although the cessation of lactation might be due to external climate, acclimatization issues, or even endocrine disorders caused by long-distance travel, the ogres didn't care about any of that. Their little ones needed milk!

You, human leader, must immediately, right now, get us fresh meat!

Otherwise... eating you wouldn't be out of the question!

Ogres didn't actually like eating people. In their words, human flesh was inferior to most beast meat, about as bad as carrion-eating hyenas, quite unpalatable.

But when unhappy, taking a bite wasn't really a problem.

Larila's eyes turned green with rage.

Your cub needs milk? That cub is taller than me! Still not weaned?

Besides, if you're not producing milk, what does that have to do with me? This wasn't mentioned in the hiring terms!

However, reasoning with ogres wasn't realistic. Their left head was responsible for thinking about "who to eat," while their right head was already pondering "how to eat."

That evening, during camp setup, the ogre leader's left head commanded while the right hand wielded a blade, directly butchering a sand beetle. The right head released roaring flames, roasting the shell until crispy and the meat tender.

After the barbecue was done, the ogres swarmed forward and feasted heartily, enjoying the most pleasant supper since entering the desert, while their gaze fixed on the remaining beetles and pack animals.

This time, the sand person guides exploded.

This sand beetle was passed down from my grandfather's generation. My grandfather gave it to my father, my father gave it to me. It's like family.

This is simply my "dear grandfather." What do you mean by roasting my "grandfather"?

This was the downside of doing dirty work. Everyone came for profit; there was no collective ideological consciousness whatsoever.

Larila nearly ground his molars to powder. He had no choice but to pull out more gold coins and make more empty promises to barely suppress the brewing internal strife.

The force trudged forward amid suspicion, complaints, and hatred, one step at a time.

Days passed. On the tenth day, with the journey half complete, this force finally entered Vast Sea Territory's outpost range.

Vast Sea Territory's forward watchtower stood in the center of the sand dunes. Several thorny tree trunks were driven deep into the ground, topped with horizontal branches and a flag. This was a simple observation post.

Now it was abandoned, with only the emerald vine and longsword flag fluttering in the wind.

One of the Zircon Family warriors following Larila gave a vicious laugh and heavily struck down this watchtower with his sword.

"A greeting gift for the Vast Sea scum! Bah!"

"BOOM!"

The falling wooden pole pulled the pin of a defensive grenade, directly riddling this human warrior with hundreds of holes large and small.

Thus was born Larila's bandit group's first casualty.

Of course, this was just the beginning.

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