They drove the mule cart to the goblins' camp. To the south of the camp, Diego and Elgardine temporarily left the road and burrowed into the dense bushes beside the road, where they walked for about ten minutes to a glade.

"That's where we hit that tiger." Elgardine said, pointing to a patch of trampled grass, "where it was hit, it didn't even struggle." ”

Diego walked among the weeds, regretting that there was nothing on the ground, not even a pool of blood. Two days have passed, and too many wild animals have visited the meadow, destroying the scene completely, and even with Diego's tracking skills, there is no valuable clue to be found.

The two of them reluctantly left the place, returned to the main road, and caught up with them before the convoy entered the camp.

"Yesterday I ate some mussel meat that was not very fresh, and my stomach was a little uncomfortable." Elgardine explained to the suspicious goblins.

"Well, this is normal, in this kind of hot and dying place, no meat will spoil after a few days, and there are many people in the camp who are dying of diarrhea." The copper cup was relieved and said in agreement, it seems that the goblins are also worried about this. But Diego was keenly aware of the message in his words.

"A lot of people?"

"Yes, at least thirty or forty of them, and even the big foreman can't get up." Brass said triumphantly, glad he hadn't been infected by the dysentery - in his mind, it was just a very ordinary food poisoning incident. With the filthy and messy living conditions of the goblins, it would be unusual if they didn't hit the top a few times a month.

In fact, it's not unusual at all. Goblins always have a way of making their places stinky and full of sewage. Living in this "healthy and healthy" environment all year round, the goblins have developed a good body that is not invasible, even if the natural disasters and plagues that are raging among humans are just a vomit and a diarrhea for the goblins. Just as the immunity of the people of my Great Celestial Empire is so high, even the Spanish cucumber and American spinach that make Western countries talk about it. is also willing to eat, and is not afraid.

The group walked into the camp almost with their nostrils covered, and the conditions in the camp were worse than they looked from a distance. It is littered with pungent foul-smelling sewage, some of which collects into a black pond in the low-lying areas. From time to time, bubbles gush out of it, emitting a colorful oil flower. The ground between the dilapidated houses was littered with disgusting puddles of filth, so colorful that it was impossible to tell if it was vomit or something else.

The deafening cacophony of busy platforms and timber factories made it difficult to hear what each other was saying even when they were face-to-face - Diego saw two goblins arguing loudly on the side of the road. But in reality, the two were just talking normally.

"For the first time, I felt that a plague in some places is not always a bad thing." Gasrae, dizzy from the smell and noise, said hatefully. If he could, he wanted to run away, away from this chaotic place of decay and filth.

"I told you, do you have the talent of a master of prophecy?" Diego said as he looked at a goblin not far away who was spitting dimly against the wall. The goblin's face was gray, and his complexion was not the oily green that goblins were common, but an unhealthy dark yellow. And he vomited not only food scraps, but also red blood, fragments of internal organs, and yellow-green pus.

"What do you mean......" Masrae looked at him in horror. Said uncertainly.

"Yes, it looks like our enemies can't wait to make some undead scorpions for themselves." Diego said grimly, indifferent to the lives of these goblins, and only swept every corner of the camp with a hawkish sharp gaze, guessing where the necromancer was hiding. Of course, Stavon himself may not have entered the camp, and it is more likely that he was hiding in the jungle around the camp, watching it coldly, watching Diego's and his party's every move.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?" Masrae said with some concern, "If we don't do something in time." This place will be turned into a paradise for the undead, into another Raven Ridge. ”

"What to do? I bet if you make any moves, the goblins will rush right away. Diego looked at a few Goblin Ventures employees, or thugs, who were staring at him in the distance. Said. He knew that if he dared to show the slightest intention of thwarting their logging work, he would be attacked, and there would be no room for bargaining - these guys would not hesitate to use force at the slightest sign of the slightest anomaly, whether you were a delivery merchant or a spy who had infiltrated the camp.

For a semi-military, semi-commercial organization like Goblin Ventures. It is not uncommon to see the slightest wind and grass and the sight of ping pong and guns everywhere. Because they are always ready to fight the shamans or druids who are trying to stop them from deforesting and destroying the environment, every goblin engineer and overseer at a VC firm is equipped with at least one musket or a few bombs, even ordinary miners have armor to carry with them, and even their miner hoes have sharp blades so that they can go into battle anytime and anywhere. It is even rumored that the chefs of venture capital firms use several tricks to cook food, and of course, sometimes they also use it to burn people, and each of them carries twelve different knives. Not to mention the rumbling goblin lumberjack, with a wheel saw on one side of its arms and a large iron tong on the other, making it easy to kill.

Masrae was a little entangled, on the one hand, he felt that these goblin villains really deserved to die, but on the other hand, he felt that these people were also precious lives after all, and they should be saved. He was so cranky that he didn't notice that the group was getting closer and closer to the middle of the camp.

The delivery cart writhed around the haphazard camp and finally came to a stop in front of a dilapidated house. It is said to be a house, but in fact, it can only be regarded as a wooden shed. Several wooden stakes stood at the four corners, and then a patched tarpaulin was used as the roof, and between the stakes were rows of wooden sticks of varying lengths cut from the trunks of trees, and a layer of yellow mud was pasted in the gaps between the wooden sticks, barely forming four walls.

Hearing the movement, a fat goblin stepped out of the shed, and he looked taller than the others. When he saw Diego, he was stunned and looked in disbelief.

Diego was startled, he thought he was recognized. But at this moment, Nesinvari rescued him.

"Stince? Where did the kitchen knives go? Have you changed your cooks? The dwarf asked in surprise, looking very unimpressed by the personnel change of the goblins, "This decision is really not good, you know, it is not easy to find a skilled goblin cook these days, every goblin is trying to make a lot of money, there are not many goblins like kitchen knives who can calm down and study cooking!" ”

"It's not just that there aren't many, it's just that I can't find it anymore!" Acton on the side? The copper cup said approvingly, but his affection soon became low, "The kitchen knife died the night before, and that night he was drunk, stumbled and fell into the lake, and drowned himself. When we found his body the next day, it was all a skeleton of bones that had been gnawed by the sharp-toothed madfish. Many people say that this is the retribution for his love of eating fish. ”

"I have to say it's a tragedy, we should have a toast for him, may Kazgros bless his soul!" Nesinvari said bitterly, and he literally pulled out a flat-iron flask from his bosom.

"You couldn't be more right, I hope he can dig gold in Heaven!" Acton? The bronze cup also pulled a flask out of his bosom and touched it hard with the dwarf, and then both of them took a big gulp—Diego finally knew how Necinvari had hooked up with the goblin.

"You'd better bring in the meat before you drink it, or the workers won't have lunch." At that moment, the new goblin cook suddenly interjected, his voice sounding hoarse and wheezing, as if there were many holes in his lungs.

"That's right!" The dwarf smacked his lips and said. He turned around and directed Diego and his group to begin unloading the cart and carrying the packed meat into the kitchen one by one.

Diego was the first to carry a package, but the kitchen door was not spacious, and he had to lean almost sideways to move the package inside. However, just as he passed by the fat cook outside the door, he smelled the faint smell of corpses on the goblin's body, and although he was crushed under the thick smell of swift grass juice, Diego was sure that he was not mistaken!

He turned his head and looked at the goblin's face! (To be continued.) )