Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God-Chapter 55 - 52

55: 52

55: 52

The Goblin at the very front, with a mournful expression, said, “Honorable sir, we’re willing to provide tribute, but the amount is too great; we can’t produce so much.

Look, here it is…

all of it is here.

If not, you could pick someone from our tribe…

to serve the great lord as a servant…”

What the Goblin offered was a crudely-made deerskin pouch that was obviously fashioned from raw deer hide; not only did it have a strong odor, it was also not durable.

In no time at all, it would be riddled with holes from various insects.

Inside the pouch, however, was something that brightened Gaven’s eyes, the very reason for his journey—the Spirit Crystal Stone.

The trouble was there weren’t many, and cobbled together, they were still smaller than a Goblin’s fist.

Gaven, his expression unchanged, stroked his chin and said, “Not enough, not nearly enough.

This is hardly the tribute of two people, let alone enough to compensate for your betrayal.”

“Really, this is all we have,” the Goblin was on the verge of tears, “Everything we mined before has already been given to Lord Hou…

aside from our tribesmen, we have nothing left…

The damned Troll ate all our food, even devoured three of our tribesmen.

We really didn’t invite him, he came on his own…

we didn’t dare provoke him…

If it won’t suffice, I can select a few more individuals for the lords.”

“Today, we’ll trust you once.

The missing part must be fulfilled within the next ten days.

If you can’t manage that, don’t blame me for flattening your home.

Next time, we’ll only accept this kind of crystal stone,” Gaven declared like a debt-collecting Slave Master, his face stern, “No haggling.

If you are short-staffed, you can think of a solution together with the chiefs of the nearby Goblins Tribes.

As long as you can jointly produce five times this amount of ore, I guarantee you won’t be harassed anymore.”

“Really?” The Goblin showed a surprised face.

Using this crystal stone as tribute didn’t worry them overly much; they simply needed to push the tribe to mine more—there were plenty in the caverns.

They hadn’t considered offering it as tribute in the past because Hou was mostly indifferent, more interested in food, especially meat.

He would only take crystal stones when he had no other choice.

But the problem was that they often didn’t have enough food for themselves, let alone squeeze out a portion of it.

“Do you think I need to lie to you?” Gaven uttered from his superior position, “Besides the mandatory tribute, if you mine extra crystal stones, you can bring them to Blackwell to find me.

I’ll give a fair appraisal, and in exchange, provide mining tools and food.

Don’t worry; I’ll give you a good price.”

Having confirmed the location of the vein of crystal stones he needed, Gaven immediately made a slight adjustment to his original plan.

He would not only exploit but also entice.

This approach would greatly stimulate their mining enthusiasm.

Especially once they began receiving large amounts of food through trade with Blackwell, they would soon become the Blackwell of the Goblins, attracting nearby scattered Goblin Tribes to allegiance.

“No need, absolutely no need, I was overthinking it.

We will definitely, definitely mine more crystal stones, to offer to the great lord,” said the Goblin, his large eyes spinning with doubt, clearly not believing Gaven’s promises.

Gaven didn’t expect them to believe him.

Raised with the law of the survival of the fittest, they only trusted themselves and their own eyes.

To gain their basic trust, he would have to wait until the first transaction was complete.

Thus, Gaven didn’t bother with further conversation and, picking up the crystal stone pouch, turned and walked away.

Furthermore, Gaven had the Half-Ogre carry the Troll corpses back to the Blackwell Tribe as well.

The Troll corpses were a treasure in themselves.

Troll Blood was the core component in crafting Regeneration Potions.

Troll Flesh, when buried, would give rise to a special Herb, the Flower of Regeneration, a supplementary material for many potions, fetching a very high price.

Troll Bones were favored by Weapon Masters who could use them to make weapon handles, potentially imbued with regenerative magic effects.

As for any moral burden, even a Paladin present at the scene would have little to say on such a matter.

“These inherently lazy and evil creatures are no more endearing than a hardworking ox, which often captures hearts with its diligence.”

An ox could be turned into a delicious meal on the table, bones and all, if needed, and the same goes for the corpse of a dead troll.

Who cares about the materials used or whether their growth process was wicked as long as the magic potion is effective?”

“Sir, sir, a caravan, a caravan, a huge human merchant caravan has come to the tribe,” panted a tall and burly Gnoll as he sprinted toward Gaven, gasping for air as he spoke.

It was Cangya, the foremost Gnoll warrior of the former Cangya Tribe, now of the Blackwell Tribe.

“Got it,” Gaven nodded indifferently, yet a hint of pleasure flickered through his heart, for they had finally arrived.

There was no need to ask; it was surely the sponsors of Gaven.

They were the only ones who knew of the Blackwell Tribe and Gaven.

Mere subjugation of several Gnoll Tribes wasn’t enough to establish a foothold in the Rocklands.

The most crucial element was the support from human merchants like Bede.

Never underestimate the power of these merchants.

They possessed unimaginable networks, financial resources, and physical assets, particularly when they sniffed out a business opportunity, their burst of energy was terrifying.

Gaven needed their networks, their help in transporting the Rocklands’ specialties out and bringing in the things he needed.

As for the hefty profits made in between, that was their rightful earning.”

Only through a win-win situation could he secure them to his war chariot, advancing steadily forward.

Bark…

Bark…

Bark…

Even from a distance from the Blackwell Tribe, one could hear the continuous barking of the Gnolls, as lively as a bustling country market.

No sooner had Gaven shown his face than a round figure rushed up to meet him, shouting as he ran, “Gaven, Brother Gaven, you’re finally back.

We’ve been waiting for you; it’s been quite the hardship.”

Gaven only knew one person who was so rotund yet agile and also knew him—Bede Sechi.

Bede seemed intent on giving Gaven a warm hug but abruptly halted in his tracks.

For the Half-Ogre, like a towering iron statue, stood before Gaven; if Gaven hadn’t intervened in time, the Nodular Gnarled Club would have already come crashing down.

“Cough cough…

cough cough…” Bede looked up at the Half-Ogre Roar, swallowing his saliva multiple times, cautiously backing even further away, and said, “Brother Gaven, from the moment I saw you, I knew you were no ordinary man.

I couldn’t have imagined that in such a short time, you’d stir up such a commotion here. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Everything about this place is beyond our wildest imaginations…”

“Roar, take the corpse to Anna and get a barrel of barley wine, not as the agreed payment from this morning, but as a reward for your recent loyal service.

Off you go,” Gaven dismissed the Half-Ogre first.

“Barley wine?!

Alright, alright.” Upon hearing this, the Half-Ogre joyously hoisted the troll corpse and strode off to find the Maiden Priestess.

The Blackwell Tribe was suddenly in an uproar.

The Half-Ogre was clueless about yielding the way; he charged down the direct path, with the Gnolls along the way hustling to get out of his way, lest they be sent flying by his bulk.

Gaven felt as if his head was splitting, and he bellowed, “Slow down!

If you overturn a carriage or send someone flying, the reward of barley wine will be revoked.”

“Oh!

Oh!

Oh!” The Half-Ogre quickly braked, then sneakily sidestepped everyone like a thief.