Feitao slept soundly, dreaming of a lavish feast.

Hoo~

After who knew how long, she rubbed her bleary eyes, rose languidly, and let out a huge yawn.

Awooo~ The hungry fox roars.

She pushed aside her fluffy tail, rubbed her little head, and slowly recalled yesterday’s events.

“Ah, I was too careless,” Feitao murmured. She sat up abruptly. The cherry-blossom white aura receded inward as she shifted back into human form.

How could she have been so reckless—sleeping peacefully right inside a goblin den?!

This *was* a goblin den! If even one or two had stayed behind last night and crept up while she slept… the thought sent a chill down her spine.

Fate rubbed his forehead. In the past, no matter how starving *she* was, she’d never make such a rookie mistake.

With enemies—especially vicious, soulless beasts like goblins—there was zero room for carelessness. One slip, and you were dead.

He checked his body. No injuries. No abnormalities.

Good. The den’s goblins must have emptied out completely last night. That was the only reason she’d survived.

He squeezed the pendant tucked against his chest. The once-dim blood pendant now glowed with restored luster.

The camouflage function was back.

Seeing his chest had flattened out, Fate let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Probably no other goblins remained… but he couldn’t be sure yet.

Fate retrieved the iron sword left outside, crouched low, and moved deeper into the cavern, following the torchlight.

Beyond the food storeroom lay an armory. Naturally, the weapons weren’t goblin-made—all plundered.

Tucked beside them: piles of gold and silver utensils.

These little fiends had no taste for art, only instinct—but they clearly hoarded luxuries. Or maybe they just dragged back everything they could loot.

No wonder they ignored nearby villages. Raiding merchant caravans alone kept them fat. Why bother with those dirt-poor hamlets? Weren’t noble lords’ caravans far richer than those backwater dumps?

But then—why would merchants knowingly take this dangerous backroad instead of the safe official highway?

Unless… what they carried was something they *couldn’t* transport openly?

Fate didn’t care about the glittering loot. To him, a living man’s agate cup and a dead man’s burial cup were both just shiny metal. No difference.

At the cavern’s end, faint sobs reached his ears—like a lost three-year-old’s whimper.

His chest tightened.

After years of service, he’d raided goblin dens before. Every time, that same heavy weight settled in his heart.

That was why he held zero mercy for them.

He turned the corner. No expected horror—just a few little green-skinned brats sobbing on the stone floor.

Fate walked over silently and stood before them.

Instantly, their tears stopped. Faces twisted with malice, they lunged at his legs. One darted for his sword.

Fate was ready. One clean slash severed two heads. Then the rest.

Only when the last twitched no more did he sheathe his blade.

True senseless evil was rare in this world. Goblins were the exception.

With creatures like these, roots and all must be cut.

He scanned the chamber and exhaled.

Usually, clearing a den meant finding human girls—limbs severed, minds broken, used as breeding tools. Trapped souls in ruined bodies.

In those cases, mercy meant ending their suffering. Rescue was meaningless; life had long become agony.

This time, he saw no such horror. But the presence of these young goblins meant a girl had already been used… and “disposed of” after serving her purpose.

Fate didn’t dwell on *how*. He knew goblins “used every part.” Even the useless.

Sword dripping foul blood, he stepped out of the cavern. The loot stayed behind—no owner to return it to.

After confirming his form was fully restored, Fate pocketed a few dried meat strips and walked through the sun-dappled forest toward the village.

“Huh? You’re still alive? Lucky bastard,” sneered the noble retainer from yesterday. Beside him stood a well-dressed middle-aged man in pointed boots and a crimson formal coat—the noble rescued last night.

Fate said nothing.

“So you’re the villager who stayed behind?” The noble eyed him up and down. “You don’t look like any country bumpkin I’ve seen.”

“Actually made it back…” The noble paused. “You’re not from this village, are you?”

“Just a passing traveler,” Fate replied.

The noble didn’t ask how he escaped. Hidden skills? A master’s disciple? None of his concern.

“Take it. Your payment.” He nodded to his servant, who handed Fate two silver coins—the agreed sum.

“And the others?”

“Hah! They bolted faster than rats from my granary. Payment? Don’t make me laugh.”

“No deaths. No wounds. They get nothing,” the noble snorted.

“Kid, I see talent. I value capable people. For risking your life last night—I’ll offer you a fine position. Interested?”

“What kind?”