Chapter 27: Mind and Journey

The crimson-backed lizardmen seemed to have even worse tempers than the green-backed ones, alongside their greater strength.

The lizardmen of before would still call out a couple of times when meeting; one could catch a fleeting expression and the process of emotional shift, and subtle little movements — like tilting their heads slightly when launching an attack to quickly scan their companions with peripheral vision. Now these crimson-backed fellows just roared and charged straight up on sight, every single one looking like they were about to bulge their eyeballs out; dozens of lizardmen brandishing short spears didn't have a single superfluous expression or movement among them.

"I just wanted to get a pair of boots, and you lot come give me trouble again." He was naturally unafraid of these little lizardmen who stood three or four heads taller than him.

Watching the lizardmen fall and struggle one by one in different postures instead made him feel these fellows had more vitality than before.

This area had always been the kobolds' hunting ground; it was just that with the kobolds' Saint Lords dying one after another in several conflicts, their performance gradually weakened, and lizardmen began appearing here sporadically. Now they even postured as if to completely occupy it and drive them into their dens.

You have to understand, lizardmen already possessed a vast hunting ground not weaker than this one; seizing another piece would inevitably make their development unstoppable, and the inexplicable appearance of meat worms was also causing the value of every territory to increase drastically.

Luge shouldered the long stick, and his storage bag now held two more carefully selected short spears.

Before he knew it, he discovered he was advancing toward a towering dense forest; this forest region composed of unknown plants that weren't quite trees was a place neither kobolds nor lizardmen would normally approach, so their so-called struggle for territory was a rather pathetic behavior — after all, even on their own turf there were many places they dared not set foot in, and they weren't some powerful corner overlords, more like struggling to survive in the cracks of the Ground's greater environment.

He immediately changed direction, deciding to detour around here.

All along the way, besides being careful and cautious, the nervousness he had when first leaving the Small Cave Area was already gone.

Look at this environment, these crises everywhere both audible and silent — isn't this a kind of dark-style spring outing? Only the sightseer must hold a club, possess spells, and caution is just the brain-teaser game often played during spring outings; splattering blood is the spring breeze brushing the face, and within the chill there is likewise a trace of warmth.

Pity he had no thought of becoming a kobold poet.

Amidst this scene and these feelings, while he marveled at these wondrous surroundings, he was also thinking about how to combine the spells he had already mastered to deal with possible troubles, and deciding what the next spell to learn should be.

The choice of spell could be considered further; after all, this long journey was for that very purpose, and he might unexpectedly gain new spells.

He shouldered his stick and walked until his legs ached; anything on the road he could ignore he didn't waste time on, just focused wholeheartedly on hurrying.

A kobold's endurance wasn't bad, and he had spell assistance, so when he felt his legs ache, he realized he had truly walked a not-short distance.

But he only slowed his pace, and didn't stop immediately.

He was looking for a patch of sufficiently solid ground to rest on.

It could prevent some dangers from beneath the ground.

He had seen in Kalu's diary mention of a spell that could turn soil into solid rock; at the time he thought he must learn it if he got the chance, as it would have many uses — pity that as a little kobold he wouldn't simply get such an opportunity.

In a half-dream, half-waking state.

He opened his eyes several times because of a slight sound, and every time this happened he intensely longed to possess a companion magic pet.

The Black Book contained the Magic Mark Meditation Method's matching contract magic pet method; he had never used it — on one hand, he feared leaving behind that rumored fatal loophole of the pet being borrowed to harm its master; another point was that he hadn't encountered a suitable magic pet target. He had held expectations for the little guy in the cultivation bag, but it just wouldn't hatch, only liking to nest in its eggshell and sleep the day away.

Unknown whether it was noon, morning, or evening.

He opened his eyes again, performed a simple meditation, then shouldered his stick and continued on the road.

Hurrying all the way, advancing ceaselessly toward the target.

Boom—!

A huge boom from afar, then the sparse, scattered sound of heavy objects scraping against the earth.

He stomped his foot forcefully and directly darted into a shallow pit to the side, lying flat.

Not waiting long, he quietly raised his head and saw an old friend.

Only to see the Gray Long-Neck Saint Lord's massive body weaving left and right, crawling rapidly toward the distance; along the way who knew how many things Luge recognized or didn't recognize it knocked over, as if opening a path.

After the giant serpent passed.

Luge still lay on the ground without moving a muscle.

Just quietly waiting.

Sure enough, not long after the Gray Long-Neck Saint Lord left, a figure sprinting at extreme speed took large strides chasing after it.

This time he continued waiting a very long time before climbing up.

"Wouldn't be another kobold, would it?"

He thought in his heart, shouldered his stick, and immediately distanced himself from here.

That figure that hurried past — thinking carefully, it didn't seem much like a kobold; even Tu Ya's type wouldn't do — it was more like a human, a tall, powerfully built human.

He didn't continue thinking about these things, just hoped he wouldn't deviate from his route due to various unexpected situations, ultimately leading to getting lost.

Perhaps his beautiful hope received a response, perhaps Luge's sense of direction as a kobold was very strong.

After a stretch of hurrying without sleep or rest.

He looked up in delighted surprise; the entrance to the target Small Cave Area connecting in the distance was already faintly visible.

Perhaps this also had the lizardmen's credit.

He looked at the dozens of lizardmen fallen at his feet — there were crimson-backed lizardmen, and old friends, the green-backed lizardmen. This was already who knew which batch encountered; quantities varied, and one time there were many, posing some threat to him as well.

This journey of hurrying was delayed quite a bit of time because of these little lizards, but it could also count as a blessing in disguise.

If not for these lizards, he would have already deviated from his route.

And incidentally intercepted the lizards' invading momentum.

These lizardmen seemed to be rushing in batches to gather at some place; pity he didn't speak lizardman language, couldn't ask anything out.

The seemingly within-sight cave entrance — he gritted it out and hurried for a very long time more.

Since experiencing that last time, he had already pinned his hope of rest on this Small Cave Area; resting in open regions would make him once again conscious of the kobold's insignificance. Perhaps it was the instinct of a social creature at work, but he believed it was also his own weakness.

Good thing it was just a short diagonal crossing; if he had to traverse the whole thing, walking to the end might take several times the time.

When looking from that vast Cave World, he felt this Small Cave Area's entrance wasn't large.

When he truly stepped inside, he discovered the passages here had diameters more than three times that of the kobold side.

Walked a stretch, he wanted to first find a place to rest.

Distant dripping sounds, accompanied by a pressing bone-chilling cold, had coiled around him since the moment he entered.

He halted his steps, didn't go further in, found a corner and sat down to rest.

The existence of the Foul Skin was the confidence that let him attempt to sleep alone outside several times, and his greatest reliance.

As his body relaxed, the fatigue accumulated over many days surged forth like a tide, seeping into every inch of flesh and blood, drowning him; his eyelids struggled bitterly under the pouring tide, finally falling irrepressibly; even breathing accompanied by deep dreams arrived on schedule.

(Chapter End)