Forests Don't Support Idle Goblins

"Let me go! Who are you?" The magic craftsman Martial was bound hand and foot to the ground, writhing in pain like a starving worm. "That old bastard Baxter actually found me! I had already hidden in the slums of Torch City."

He wailed loudly, but unfortunately his eyes were covered by a black cloth and he couldn't see anything, but he could still hear rustling conversations.

"Not bad craftsmanship." Charles stretched out his arms, looking at the dark leather trench coat he was wearing. It was made of the hide of a magical beast chameleon, and it was decorated with several small magic crystals. There was also a circle of arcane runes carved on the back.

"Just cover the magic crystal on your collar with both hands, and you can activate your magic ability and become invisible immediately," Little John explained carefully. There were several leather trench coats on the table next to him.

"I'll try," Charles walked to the mirror and grasped the magic crystal embedded in the collar of his trench coat with both hands. The crystal was about the size of an oversized decorative button. With his movement, "whoosh," Charles could no longer see his reflection in the mirror. "It's like blinking, and I can't see myself anymore."

"Impressive, boss. Martial specially made a standard version of the magic item according to your requirements." Little John stared at the mirror, but Martial's image was no longer there. "He even charged extra for it."

"Who's there?" Martial shouted from the ground in the distance, but John and Martial deliberately lowered their voices. He could only try to move closer to the source of the sound by gurgling his body. "Who can save me?"

"Indeed excellent." Charles gripped the magic crystal at the collar of his trench coat again, deactivating his invisibility. He had just moved stealthily to Little John's side when the sudden appearance of his figure made Little John cry out.

"Huh? It's you?" Martial, whose eyes were covered, suddenly heard Little John shout "Ah!" and immediately recognized the other person. "I've already prepared the things as you instructed, why did you do this?"

"Were you sent by that Baxter guy? Listen to me, I'm just a craftsman. If you let me go, I can make magical items for you for free, really."

Charles and John exchanged a glance, then looked at Martial on the ground. He had stopped gurgling and even shrank back in fear.

"Martial Bob, or should I call you 'The Glove of the God of Magic'?" Martial approached Martial with a smile.

"No, I'm not," the old man Martial shrank even faster upon hearing what Charles said, and loudly protested, "My name is Martial, just an ordinary, bankrupt craftsman, not some glove. You must have mistaken me for someone else."

"Is that so? Then I'll take you to Earl Baxter and ask him if you really made that enchanting brooch." Charles stood next to Martial, looking down at the magic craftsman on the ground. "I think his wife will be very happy to see you."

"You, you are the devil." After a few seconds of silence, Martial seemed to have figured something out. "Yes, I made it. The magical item that the old bastard used to deceive his wife was made by me. But what did I do wrong? I'm just a craftsman. I've already run to Torch City. Why won't you leave me alone?"

He stopped shrinking back and instead began to struggle violently, shouting, "If you have the guts, kill me now!"

"Quite fierce." Charles grinned, then gestured for John to help remove Martial's blindfold.

"You?" Old man Martial had just been untied from his black cloth when he rammed into little John beside him. However, he was quite old and was tied up on the ground, so trying to knock little John away was simply wishful thinking.

Moreover, he had just regained his sight and could only see a blurry figure in front of him, which did not help his resistance at all.

"We're not Baxter's people," Charles said, shaking his head with a smile as he looked at Martial struggling violently. "So you don't need to do this either."

"Huh? No?" Martial heard the voice on the other end and finally stopped moving. He struggled to lift his head, adjusting to the light, and finally saw the figure standing in front of him. "A...a goblin?"

"Yes," Charles said, crossing his arms and looking down at the old man, "as you can see, I am a goblin, but you can call me boss if you prefer."

"Boss?" Martial was stunned, then burst into even louder laughter. "What a joke! A green goblin wants to be a boss? I must be dreaming, or the world must be ruled by a demon lord."

He tried to control his body and sit up, but the rope was tied too tightly, and his attempts were futile.

Charles didn't say anything, only smiled as he looked at Martial on the ground until he stopped mocking him. Then he said slowly, "If there's anyone in this world who can protect you, I think it's only me. Those nobles won't go against the old Earl's wishes for you, ordinary people can't do it either, and the Church is even less willing to do such a thing. If you want to live, 'Gloves of the God of Magic,' you can only listen to me."

The old man looked up and examined the goblin in front of him. From his perspective, he could only see the goblin wearing a dark leather coat and Little John standing next to him with a smile on his face. This bottom-up perspective made him feel a little strange.

"I don't know why a goblin like you can speak Common, or how you managed to hide in Torch City, but to say you'll protect me seems a bit presumptuous."

"Absolutely not." Charles shook his head with a smile. "Since I say this, I'm confident enough. And I need to correct you, you're not in Torch City right now, you're in Gynthorn."

"Girls' Horn? Where is that?" The old man froze, then turned to Little John. "How long was I unconscious? What did you do to me?"

"It's nothing, just a little bit," John waved his hand in a chop, "and of course, you weren't unconscious for long."

"Let me explain," Charles crouched down, staring at the old man with a smile in his eyes, "Goat Horn Town is in Earl Valentine's territory, right on the edge of Nightmare Forest."

"Nightmare Forest?" The old man's eyes widened. "You're lying, I..."

He glanced back and forth between Charles and John, but saw no change in their expressions, as if what they said was true. "Gods above, this is impossible. I must have been unconscious for several days."

"Untie him." Charles stood up and pointed to the magic craftsman on the ground. "If you don't believe me, you can go out and see for yourself now. Of course, don't even think about running away, or I'll have someone arrest you and send you straight to the Adventurers' Guild. I bet there are plenty of people there willing to trade you for a decent bounty."

A moment later, Little John untied the ropes binding the old man, who scrambled to his feet and looked at the goblin in front of him suspiciously. Charles, however, remained calm and composed, paying no attention to the old man's expression.

"Am I really in Gieshorn?" He looked the goblin up and down, then glanced at Little John beside him.

"That's right," John nodded and said.

"How did you do that? No, wait," the old man turned to stare at the goblin, "I should be asking you how you managed to get me to the edge of Nightmare Forest in such a short time."

Charles shrugged. "A little trick."

"A teleportation portal?" The old man chuckled twice. "Don't tell me that a goblin has a teleportation array that only high-ranking noble mages possess."

"You guessed correctly." Charles nodded with a smile.

His words choked the old man's laughter, making him feel like a rooster whose neck had been choked.

A few seconds later, he shouted, "I don't believe it! A goblin and an adventurer could have a teleportation array? It's impossible! There must be a high-level archmage behind you!"

But Charles didn't refute him. Instead, he exchanged a glance with John and smiled confidently.

Their smiles stunned old man Martial once again. He looked ahead and tried to say, "You're lying to me. There's no teleportation array. I've been unconscious for days. Unless, unless you let me see the teleportation array."

"Once you're willing to work for me, I'll show you the portal, but not now." Charles shook his head. Runewords are a completely new tool, and their operating mechanism is entirely different from the various magic models we have now. They can't be exposed to strangers just yet.

"Even if I wanted to work for you, what could I do? Chop a stick for you, or tie a stone to a piece of wood?" the old man said with some disdain. He didn't think the goblin in front of him could hire him. "I am a magical craftsman, not an ordinary carpenter."

Charles sighed softly, not at all angry at the other party's perfunctory tone. Instead, he pointed behind the old man and said, "Before you make your decision, I want to advise you to look behind you first before confirming your choice."

"Hmph, what could be behind me? A stick made of fine wood... Oh, damn it," he muttered, slowly turning his head. But when he saw what was laid out, he immediately dropped his disdainful expression and shouted, "By the Four Gods, who the hell just carelessly piled these things up here?"

He ignored Charles and Little John, and ran straight to the pile of monster bones. He bent down and began picking up the bones. "Damn it, how can you do this? How can you treat bone material like this? It's such a waste."

Looking at the seemingly crazed magician, Charles couldn't help but reveal a triumphant smile. For this kind of person, only by piling up a large amount of material in front of him could he pry open his mind, just like handing a piece of malfunctioning code to a software engineer or dragging a victim's corpse in front of a forensic doctor.

"If you're willing to work for me, I can provide you with plenty of materials. I'll never let your skills go to waste," he said, walking behind the old man. "Of course, you'll be very safe here. No one can hurt you. As long as you keep working for me, you might be able to create magical items with souls and become a 'legendary craftsman' in the future."

Charles knew that most of the magic artisans in this world were transformed from mage apprentices. Unlike warriors, knights, or swordsmen, who needed to train their bodies and take strengthening potions, mages relied more on talent. Many mage apprentices who had little or no talent were unable to continue on the path of magic. After all, not everyone was like his sister Vivian, whose coordination of the four elements was 82.

Many of these failed mage apprentices turn to studying the making of magical artifacts and make a living from it. As their craftsmanship improves, their reputation grows, and many people seek out magical craftsmen to make and repair magical items. Among them are quite a few mages.

This can be considered another kind of "satisfaction".

Only a very small number of magical artisans will eventually rise to the top and begin creating "magical items with souls." These magical items can communicate with people, possess exceptionally powerful abilities, and are the "portable magical artifacts" that magicians dream of. The magical artisans who create these items will be revered as "legendary artisans."

However, the old man completely ignored Charles's "temptation." He continued sifting through the pile of bones, sighing and complaining as if Charles was wasting resources. "Why are there only bones here, and no other materials?"

"Sorry, that's all the monster bones we have for now," Charles said helplessly, shrugging. The goblins from the Feathered Serpent Kingdom had only "given" him a pile of bones, nothing else. "However, if you need more materials, I can provide them, or you can provide a detailed list of materials to collect, and I'll have someone keep track of them when collecting them."

Upon hearing Charles's words, the old man stopped what he was doing. He stood still, staring at the mountain of bones before him. After a long while, he finally spoke, "Can I have any materials I need?"

"In principle, there's no problem." Charles nodded. If there were any difficult issues, he would ask Uncle Musa. If all else failed, he could trade with the Third Prince under the guise of trade. As the highest-ranking official in the Kingdom of Fran, he could certainly provide many good things.

"I still have quite a few things in Torch City; they've been with me for many years." The old man glanced back at the goblin.

"Don't worry, it will be delivered starting tomorrow, and I guarantee nothing will be missing," Little John said from behind. He had seen the other party's workshop in person; it was cluttered with a large number of items and tools. If they wanted to move them over, they would have to hire people, but they could hire those kids to help.

"Alright, I agree." As if he had made a momentous decision, old man Martial slumped down after saying this. "I must be crazy to think that I would one day be under the command of a goblin."

He knew he was wanted by the nobles and that many places were unsafe. This goblin who spoke Common Tongue seemed very mysterious and could obtain a lot of crafting materials, so he might really be able to protect him.

"Remember your words, legendary craftsman," the old man said, staring at Charles, enunciating each word clearly.

"Yes," Charles nodded with a smile, "you will never regret your choice today."