Wizard: I am a goblin

Chapter 118 Forest Funeral

The flames crackled.

In the temporary camp of the Ansar people, the boar-men are gnawing on the flesh from the face of a human skull.

Click, click, click.

His twisted teeth chewed up the nasal cartilage, tearing the flesh from the skull. The human face had been gnawed beyond recognition by the boar-man, and the sticky, chewing sounds echoed throughout the camp.

He kept gnawing and gnawing, pulling the tongue out of the skull's mouth to chew (French kiss?), when suddenly, with a snap, the wild boar bit into something hard, and that thing got stuck between his teeth, making him very uncomfortable.

He used his carrot-thick fingers to pick at his teeth, digging and digging, saliva mixed with congealed black blood and yellow brain matter, dripping from the beastman's mouth onto the ground.

After much effort, the boar-man finally managed to pull out the annoying foreign object.

It was a copper coin, smeared with the saliva of the wild boar-man.

"Hmph. Ash'tok, til'las rutalti bu-si." (Humans, choked to death by money.)

The boar-man tossed the copper coin into the bone cage beside him and gave the dwarf inside a terrifying, blood-stained smile.

"Here you go, your ransom, hehehehe—"

The beastman let out a pig-like chuckle. Dulin, missing an ear, had a vacant look in his eyes and was too numb to react.

He watched as the old carpenter's body was dismembered, his internal organs were used to make soup, his meat was roasted, and his head, hands, and feet were eaten raw by the boar-men... There was nothing left to frighten him.

The boarman, seeing that the dwarf didn't react much, found it boring and turned back to continue gnawing on the human head.

On the other side of the camp, faint conversations could be heard between the deer and the weasel.

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The half-deer's voice was deep and resonant, like an undercurrent, while the weasel's voice was sharp and noisy, like a mosquito buzzing by the bedside.

"Have the cats and dogs been let out?" Thornton asked.

The weasel nodded.

"Hehe, they've gone after that manticore. We're very close. That manticore—Black-winged Rattlesnake," the weasel said, its eyes darting left and right as if afraid of being overheard. "So close... always so close. Is your nose getting rusty, Thorton—that guy from the Giant Horn Tribe? You've been away from the Immortal Forest for too long, haven't you?"

"Are you questioning my leadership, you of the Velvet Tail tribe?" The half-deer's voice echoed in his chest, like a wild beast growling a threat. "I've led us this far, and we're so close to our goal. I won't give up now. If you want to challenge my leadership, feel free to try."

The half-deer wrinkled its nose at the weasel, revealing half of its fangs. The weasel's ears immediately drooped, and its tail drooped.

Seeing that she had backed down, Thordon dropped his threatening expression.

"I know you wouldn't dare."

"What do we do now? Are we really going to be led by the nose by that little guy?" the weasel said quickly.

Thornton remained silent for a moment.

"No, he is just like those humans, untrustworthy."

"You smelled it too?" The weasel's eyes flickered.

"..." Thornton turned to look at the woman. "Yes, the scent on that person."

"A 'priest' who didn't smell of incense, but instead had a humanoid stench—like a goblin."

"Not your average goblin, but a weasel," Thorton said in a low voice. "A goblin with magic. He can shapeshift, unleash fire, force field arrows... I heard that a daring goblin wizard robbed the Gray Raven Society's Peacock's warehouse. Could such a coincidence really happen?"

Upon hearing this, the weasel's eyes lit up, and it immediately became excited:

"Catch it! Sell it to the peacock! It'll be worth more than a lion's stinger! I'm going tonight, with the cat—two people should be enough to handle it!"

"Don't make any rash moves, weasel," Soton frowned. "We need the peacock's gold, and we also need the human bounty... This opportunity won't come again. The human will offer 5000, and the peacock will offer 5000. As long as we kill the manticore, we can immediately save enough money to buy the 'seed'."

"The peacock would definitely pay a hefty price for that goblin!" the weasel protested. "Maybe even more than 5000!"

The half-deer suddenly stood up, his weight pressing down like Mount Tai, completely burying the female beastman in his shadow. The weasel immediately wilted and dared not utter a word.

"If the goblins run away, we won't get the 5000 gold coins from the humans, and we'll never have another chance to earn that much gold! We're already enemies of the human kingdom, where can we go! Without buying those seeds, we have no face to return to the Immortal Forest!"

"No, I won't allow failure—we'll capture that manticore, cut off its tail and head, and get the gold from the elves and humans. Then, we'll find the golden mask and exchange it for what he promised us!"

"...Hehe...You really believe that golden mask? Where did he get the seed of the divine tree? All the divine trees were burned down, not even a single leaf was left...You choose to trust a wizard? Is that wise?" The weasel bombarded him with questions.

The half-deer man fell silent. He lowered his head, then raised it again, looking up at the sky.

"The fairies no longer answer our prayers, the Immortal Forest is dead, its albino trees like rows of skeletons of the past. The wind spirits that once sang among the leaves are now silent, mocking our incompetence... Wizards are the church's enemies; they will help us bring magic back to our homeland. I have no choice. Onsal, no choice."

The wind blew, and the leaves rustled.

The half-deer raised his head, closed his eyes, and listened to the song of the forest. He remained silent, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down beneath the skin of his neck, as if enduring some immense sorrow.

"Still indulging in self-pity, you people from the Giant Horn Tribe—your tribe is always so sentimental," the weasel whispered.

"The Rongwei tribe always doubts everything. So we will never learn to laugh, and you will never learn to shut up."

The weasel gave two annoying chuckles, then asked with a half-smile:

"Then, what about the goblins? That deal must be an ambush—hehe, we might not even see the gold before we're dead."

The wind stopped, and the leaves fell silent.

The half-deer lowered his eyes, and when he raised them again, there was no sadness in his eyes, only a chilling intent.

The man said decisively:

"Before that goblin sets off, go and confirm—make sure you see him carrying gold with your own eyes. Then, no matter how many people come, kill them all!"

"Kill them all, hehehe, kill them all!" the weasel chuckled, seemingly very excited. But as she laughed, the smile suddenly vanished from her face.

"That dwarf is useless! I'll go tell the boar: all the meat is his—the meat of the underground races has a musty smell, I really can't stand it, but anyway, that boar isn't picky... Leave a few bones for the dogs, they'll be very happy."

Thornton nodded, and the weasel smiled again, heading towards the center of the camp—when the half-deer suddenly called out to her.

"Wait a moment."

The weasel turned its head.

"I've changed my mind: let me talk to him. Maybe keeping him alive will be more useful to us."