Chapter 129: Blood Sacrifice

Deep within the Wuwu Forest.

Insect chirps mingled with the "rustle" of a gentle breeze passing through the woods, echoing faintly in the air.

The dense canopy blocked the fierce sun overhead; the light was dim, with patches of sunlight sparsely scattered across the soft ground covered in fallen leaves.

Silence.

Except for the noticeably thicker mist among the branches and leaves, it seemed no different from the outer areas.

It was even quieter, as if it were just an ordinary, common dense forest.

But if you stayed there a little longer, or continued deeper.

The massive shadows occasionally sweeping past from the darkness of the bushes, the dark giant scales embedded in the tree trunks, the chilling gazes from unknown places in the blind spots of vision, and the half-protruding pale bones sticking out of the roadside meadows...

Would tell you why adventurers, who always placed money above life, even though they toiled daily shuttling between various dirty and barren Goblin Chaoxue, were unwilling to walk two more days to come here to earn hundreds or thousands of times more Gold Coins.

"Creak."

Heavy, hard iron boots stepped down lightly and steadily.

Crushing without mercy the tender sprout that had struggled to squeeze out from the gaps in the fallen leaves while drawing nutrients from the soil.

Leaving a deep footprint on the dark, damp ground.

A man clad in full heavy armor, holding a reddish-brown long sword, walked silently at the very front of the group.

His face was hidden beneath the streamlined iron helmet, indistinct.

Only a pair of serious and determined eyes, reflected the dark and deep road ahead through the hollows of the iron mask.

Behind him were two figures, one stout and one thin.

Their skin was greenish-blue; muscles bulged beneath the Totem Breastplate, solid as a rock.

A tall and muscular Orc.

Two body-lengths to his right was the one who was obviously thinner, a Mage wearing an indigo flax robe with a refined appearance.

A tall, blonde Elf trailed at the very back of the group; while moving, her right hand rested on the hilt of the slender sword at her waist, and her species-specific eyes constantly darted left and right, alert to any potential danger around.

This Advanced Professional team, which had once met Xia Nan at the Adventurer Association, had now ventured deep into the Wuwu Forest and was advancing toward its core area.

Very professional.

Even at the depth these few had penetrated, there were likely no monsters in the surroundings capable of threatening them.

The entire team still displayed caution and meticulousness far beyond that of ordinary Adventurers.

The Human Warrior in full heavy armor, silent and determined, stood alone at the very front of the group, keeping a slight distance from the others behind.

The male Elf covering the rear moved with light steps; seemingly making no unnecessary movements, yet in actual motion, clear breezes and fallen leaves surrounded his body as if present and yet absent.

Even the brute in the eyes of the world, who was usually led by emotions, the Orc Barbarian named Volga, after venting his anger on the Goblins two days prior, had held his temper and walked silently in the group.

And the refined man located in the very center of the group, whom everyone was subtly surrounding and protecting, held a wooden staff emitting a soft, faint white light.

With him as the center, one could see the entire team was enveloped by a layer of almost invisible transparent light; only when moving did it blend and collide with the sunlight seeping through the canopy overhead, revealing its general outline.

Buzz—

The corner of the light shield suddenly blurred and distorted.

The refined man's gaze instantly turned that way, but the next second, his eyebrows relaxed again.

"Rustle..."

The grass bushes shook violently.

A wild rabbit, its body covered in seeds and broken leaves, suddenly leaped out from within.

Two black eyes like buttons sized the several towering figures before it.

Under the faint glow, this agile small creature living in the dangerous dense forest seemed to have lost its ability to perceive danger.

It paused abruptly, then suddenly reacted.

But it was too late.

Just as it turned around, a greenish-blue giant hand, like an iron clamp, firmly locked onto its neck and lifted it easily.

"Hey, long-ears, rabbit, tasty, how to cook?"

The thick arm remained motionless despite the rabbit's legs struggling; the Orc Barbarian Volga, holding this pitiful small beast, asked the blonde Elf behind him.

"You're asking me?"

The Elf's face showed some helplessness, but she also seemed accustomed to the other's straightforward nature.

Her right hand loosely clenched, her forearm spun twice in mid-air, she made a gesture of roasting meat in front of her chest, and perfunctorily said:

"Tasty, roast it, it's tasty."

In the middle of the group, Cornell lightly tapped his staff on the ground; the light shield, which had subtly fluctuated due to the rabbit's intrusion, returned to normal.

His face still wore that faint smile, neither strong nor weak.

He withdrew his gaze.

【Waverly's Alert Light Domain】

An improved version of the First-Ring "Alarm Spell," a boutique minor spell from Huan Cai Cheng.

It also required focus, but the mental energy consumed was greatly reduced; while capable of maintaining operation for a long time, it also possessed good flexibility and scalability.

One only needed to release the spell during adventure using one's staff as a mana hub, and the "Alert Light Domain" could operate continuously as the Spellcaster moved, free from interference.

Even before casting, one could decide which creatures would not trigger the alert and add special display effects for dangerous monsters requiring special attention.

One could only say, it was very useful.

Until today, Cornell still cherished that afternoon two years ago when he had not chosen to go to the tavern with his teammates to celebrate the successful completion of the mission, but instead had found a bookstore in the city to browse alone.

Otherwise, he feared he would never have encountered this cleverly conceived, intricately structured practical spell in his entire life.

Speaking of which, after returning to the academy, he had once searched for "Waverly," the creator of this spell, in the library.

Unfortunately, after flipping through all the relevant books, he found no useful information.

Expected long ago.

The history of Aifala Dalu is long and deep; even those mighty deities seated high in the God Kingdoms above the sky, who have already lost the concept of "lifespan," have examples of their demise.

How could countless "ordinary people" like them easily leave their names in history?

Let alone mere common spells like the "Alarm" spell of the moment; even the sixth-circle "Sunbeam" or the ninth-circle "Meteor Swarm," how many people can remember the names of their creators?

If the timespan is stretched, counting from ancient times, even those "Legendary" figures standing at the very top of the earthly pyramid would not be fewer in number than the stars in the sky.

In this situation, combining vast time with countless brilliant and talented figures in the past, for the group of "Mages" possessing the world's most excellent creative ability.

Almost every spell, even cantrips like "Mage Hand" or "Dancing Lights," has a massive number of variants and derivatives.

However, the vast majority of them, after being created by their boring inventors, were buried under parchment, hidden in corners covered with spiderwebs, and vanished into the Time River.

Only a small portion of improved spells with certain practical value and relatively good luck have been passed down.

If one must say, the magical traps Cornell set up while camping these past two days also belong to the improved category.

The warning range is wider, it has a certain ability to distinguish friend from foe (provided the spell sigil is engraved), and even the cost is much cheaper.

Setting up the entire process requires only a few dozen Gold Coins, and it can be reused.

Simple, reliable, and money-saving.

Driving away a few passing Gnolls a few days ago caused no loss.

If the Orc Volga hadn't destroyed quite a few when he rushed back to eat that night, they might have lasted until the mission ended.

"Never mind, I'll deduct it from his food allowance later."

Cornell shook his head lightly, glancing at the Orc beside him holding a wild rabbit, drool dripping from his mouth, seemingly already considering whether to eat the rabbit legs first or gnaw the rabbit head first.

He had already made up his mind to charge the losses from the traps to the other party.

"So this so-called 'Hunting Day' is just that there are more Goblins?"

The tall, blonde male Elf frowned, controlling the invisible breeze around him to blow away the spiderwebs hanging from the tree branches in front of him.

"Making such a big fuss every year; I heard the bounty on Gnomes has even increased by nearly half."

"Adding up these thousands or tens of thousands, the subsidized Gold Coins are almost enough to hire large Adventurer groups with Transcendents stationed there."

"Why is the Association still so stingy, letting those small Adventurers who haven't even obtained a Professional Level risk their lives?"

"It would be so much better to solve it once and for all."

The Orc might not even understand all the words, so he certainly couldn't answer; the fully armed Human Warrior was always taciturn and rarely communicated with others.

In the entire team, probably only Cornell would respond to the other party at such a time.

But strangely, facing the Elf's complaints and doubts, the Mage's expression did not seem particularly surprised.

Obviously, he knew some inside information about the relationship between "Hunting Day" and the "Association."

Yet he seemed to be considering something.

He opened his mouth but said nothing.

After a long while, he finally held the Wooden Staff in his hand, tapped the ground, and replied:

"It's quite troublesome."

"Let's talk about it after the mission ends."

Meanwhile.

Deep within the Wuwu Forest, a certain Goblin Lair.

Silence.

Extraordinary silence.

Unlike the Goblin dungeons in the Adventurers' minds, filled with feces and mud, packed with skeletons and broken scrap.

This cave appeared exceptionally clean and tidy.

There were no swarms of green-skinned Gnomes crowding and clamoring inside, nor any stench of rotting prey corpses.

Torches placed at regular intervals along the stone walls illuminated the entire cave brightly.

The densely distributed tunnels and chambers, and the open internal areas resembling a square, seemed to blend the characteristics of Hobgoblin and Bugbear lairs together.

Just like a huge... ant hill!

The cave was empty, with only two figures standing quietly in the very center.

Fingers as dry and shriveled as corpses, covered in disgusting wrinkles, protruded from loose sleeves; their hunched figures resembled worms in the shadows;

Their bodies were wrapped in black robes, with only their bodies, far taller than ordinary Goblins, and the furry faces occasionally revealed from under the hoods.

Revealing their identity as Bugbears.

"Just a little more... (Gnomish)"

No one knew how long it had lived; its voice seemed eroded by time, a hoarse and ancient tone drifting softly from under the black robe.

It slowly walked two steps forward; on the altar in front of it, carved from an unknown pale stone, was engraved an extremely complex and strange sigil array that would make any ordinary person feel dizzy at a glance.

The sigil array itself had no color; it was merely carved onto the stone surface.

But as the black-robed Bugbear gradually approached, a streak of blood-red, flowing like blood, emerged from the void, spreading and flowing along the array patterns inward.

As if in the next second, this streak of blood-red would fill the entire sigil array.

Causing an oval phantom, refracting a metallic luster with an incredibly smooth surface, to vaguely appear above the array patterns.

But just a moment before the blood-red light was about to surge into the core of the array and solidify the oval phantom.

It suddenly stopped, as if it had run out of strength.

Just a little bit short.

"Ding."

Dark nails tapped lightly against the stone surface, the crisp sound echoing through the cave like cold wind.

Behind, a figure far stronger than a typical Bugbear knelt half on the ground, not daring to lift its head, its hoarse voice carrying a trace of fear and panic:

"The number of those Adventurers this year is much lower than before, and they..."

The voice grew smaller and smaller, until at last it was nearly nonexistent.

Clearly, it knew itself that these were merely excuses for failing to complete the task.

The air fell into dead silence once more.

The Black-robed Goblin did not turn around.

Its clouded eyes, shrouded in the shadow cast by the hood, stared at the Altar before it covered in bloodlight, staring at that nearly solid oval shadow that was just a little bit off.

"The Seed Tide period is about to end; the Lord's grace must not be profaned."

"Death and life..."

"Pleasure, or punishment."

The moment the word "punishment" left its lips, the Bugbear kneeling half behind it, whose body was extremely muscular, shuddered violently twice as if by reflex.

Clearly, it had already experienced the taste of it.

"I will go out, beyond the forest."

It promised in a hurried and urgent tone.

"Just like that time before."

"If there are not enough Adventurers... use the blood of their own kind to make up for the shortfall in the sacrifice."

There was no reply.

The Goblin, clad in black robes with a hunched figure, simply stood with its back to it, gazing silently at the Altar before it.

And that Bugbear still kept its head bowed, not daring to lift it.

"Failure... you know what the consequences will be."

The old voice echoed faintly through the stone walls.

Only then did the Bugbear visibly exhale in relief.

It slowly stood up, turned around, and walked toward the exit of the lair.

The heavy, muffled footsteps sounded like some kind of horn.

On both sides of the stone walls, in the deep passages shrouded in darkness, green-skinned Goblins suddenly surged forth, all maintaining silence but with postures of frenzied excitement.

They swarmed behind it.

Only now, as the Bugbear turned and left, did its back, wrapped in thick fat and fur, clearly reveal itself in the air under the light of the torches on the stone walls.

Revealing that pale white Bone Club with hollows on its surface, emitting a faint, sharp sound like an infant's wailing as it moved;

And upon its spine, that very conspicuous tuft of brown-red bristles.

(End of this chapter)