The autumn wind rustled the grass, shaking the dew drops off the blades, which rolled down and dampened Kurzadh's trouser legs.
He crouched in the half-man-high reeds, his greenskin nearly blending into the surroundings. Only his eyes shone startlingly bright in the shadow, fixed intently on the small riverside not far away.
By the river, five hobgoblins were carrying stones up the bank.
These hobgoblins wore dusty, tattered rags. Some had axes tucked into their belts, while others gripped iron spears—the tips of those iron spears gleamed coldly, clearly proper iron tools, much more decent than the sharpened wooden sticks in the Blackrock Clan.
A dozen or so goblins followed behind, carrying small stone slabs in pairs. Their short legs churned quickly, and they occasionally tripped over stones underfoot, causing the hobgoblins to turn back and curse them.
"These fools, they can't even work properly," Kurzadh muttered inwardly, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Crouching behind him were eight hobgoblins, all the strongest fighters of the tribe—Wreelx held a stone spear, its tip still stained with dry blood; Zaggur gripped a thick wooden club, his eyes wide and round; and Dragu carried his sharply honed axe, keeping his breathing extremely low, terrified of startling the people by the river.
This was a small team from the Giant Wood tribe, and by the looks of it, they were here to move stones from the river.
Ever since catching that wandering hobgoblin three days ago, Kurzadh had learned the full details of the Giant Wood tribe—over fifty hobgoblins, nearly a hundred goblin, and even iron weapons.
He dared not engage them directly. Instead, he had Scarface lead the goblins to run wild in the forest, mapping out the enemy's activity patterns.
Kess was indeed an old hand. Upon entering the forest, he did not blunder around but sent out several small teams—some went to pick mushrooms, some went to the Lumber Yard, some went to move stones to build shelters, and others were specifically responsible for scouting.
These teams were small, ranging from three to five hobgoblins at minimum, to seven or eight at most, which gave Kurzadh the perfect opportunity.
"Listen up, all of you!" Kurzadh lowered his voice, tapping the ground lightly with his axe. "Don't make a sound later! Charge when I give the signal! Beat the hobgoblins first, then tie up the goblin! Anyone who dares to shout will go without meat when we get back!"
The hobgoblins behind him quickly nodded. Wreelx even tightly pursed his lips, swallowing the "Waaagh" sound that had almost escaped him.
Although the greenskins were aggressive, under the threat of "no meat," they managed to restrain themselves.
The hobgoblins by the river were almost done moving the stones.
The leading hobgoblin spat on the ground and shook his numb arms. "That's enough! Enough to build a shack! Let's go back!"
The hobgoblins carried the stones, and the goblins lifted the stone slabs, heading haphazardly into the forest.
They walked slowly, clearly unaware of any danger nearby—in their view, this forest contained nothing but rabbits, pheasants, and some timid small beasts. Where would other greenskins come from?
Just as they reached a spot only a few steps away from the reeds, Kurzadh suddenly stood up, pointed his axe forward, and roared, "Charge!"
"Waaagh!"
The hobgoblins behind him leaped out like hungry wolves! Wreelx was the fastest, thrusting his stone spear right into the lead hobgoblin's thigh—with a "Pfft," the stone spear pierced the hobgoblin's leg. The hobgoblin let out a cry, and the stone in his hands dropped with a "Thud," smashing his own foot.
Zaggur was just as decisive, swinging his wooden club onto the back of another hobgoblin's head. That hobgoblin didn't even groan before collapsing limply to the ground.
Dragu was even fiercer, bringing his axe down onto a hobgoblin's arm—with a "Crack," though it didn't break the bone, it caused the hobgoblin to roll on the ground in pain, dropping his iron spear.
The hobgoblins by the river were completely stunned! They hadn't even registered what was happening before they were beaten senseless.
The remaining two hobgoblins tried to fight back, raising their axes to chop at Wreelx, but Kurzadh delivered a side kick to one's waist, sending him crashing into a tree with a "Thump," and his axe flew away.
The goblins had long been scared witless. They dropped their stone slabs and tried to flee into the forest.
But how could they outrun hobgoblins? Wreelx turned back and thrust a spear into one goblin's backside. The goblin squeaked and fell to the ground, and the other goblin were too terrified to move, squatting down and shaking with their heads covered.
In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the battle was over.
All five hobgoblins were beaten black and blue; some had their arms tied, and others were pinned to the ground. The dozen or so goblin squatted in a circle, trembling all over, not daring to lift their heads.
"Search them! Take everything they have!" Kurzadh yelled.
The hobgoblins immediately rushed forward, searching the captives and confiscating all the axes and iron spears, not even overlooking the half-piece of dried mushroom tucked away by a goblin.
"Boss, look!" Wreelx ran over, holding up a small cloth bag that jingled inside.
Kurzadh took it and saw that it contained over a dozen copper coins and two rusty iron fragments—it seemed the Giant Wood tribe was indeed richer than the Blackrock Clan.
He tucked the cloth bag into his chest, then glanced at the captives on the ground, his smile widening.
This was already the fifth small team they had taken down.
On the first day, they ambushed a mushroom-picking team near the mushroom field: three hobgoblins and eight goblin were all tied up and brought back, and they seized a sack of fresh mushrooms.
On the second day, they cornered a logging team near the Lumber Yard: five hobgoblins and twelve goblin. Not only did they steal the wood they had cut, but they also beat the hobgoblin carrying the iron axe until he was crying for his mother.
Yesterday, they set tripwires on a path the scouting team was sure to take: seven hobgoblins and five goblin were sent sprawling and disoriented, then rushed by Kurzadh and his crew and thoroughly beaten, even having their map (though Kurzadh couldn't read it) stolen.
This was called defeating them one by one.
Kurzadh had seen this move in gangster movies from his previous life—if the opponent has too many people, you don't fight them head-on; you specifically target their small units, chipping away at their strength bit by bit.
Although the Giant Wood tribe had over fifty hobgoblins, after being chipped away at like this, it was likely that fewer than thirty remained now.
"Drag them back!" Kurzadh waved his hand. "Lock up the hobgoblins, and hand the goblin over to Scarface for training! If they dare to disobey, beat them!"
"Got it!" the hobgoblins responded, dragging the captives by their arms toward the tribe.
The bound hobgoblins were still whimpering, but the goblin were very obedient, not daring to resist even when shoved. They only secretly glanced at Kurzadh with their small eyes, clearly terrified from the beating.
Kurzadh followed behind, fiddling with the bag of copper coins and calculating in his mind.
Now, the Giant Wood tribe's fighting force had been significantly weakened. The remaining hobgoblins were probably the old, weak, and sick, or trusted subordinates like Kess.
Even if they realized the teams were missing and wanted revenge, they might not have the strength anymore.
More importantly, they had seized so many iron weapons—the tribe now had eight iron spears and three iron axes. Combined with the iron fragments salvaged from the merchant caravan ruins earlier, it was enough to equip a small team of hobgoblins.
Once the hobgoblin Spearman Camp and the Archer Camp were built, these weapons could be put to use, and the strength of the Blackrock Clan would increase significantly.
"Boss, that move of yours is brilliant!" Dragu leaned over, saying with a look of admiration. "We don't have to fight them head-on, but we can still beat their people and steal their stuff!"
"That's called brains!" Kurzadh tapped his head. "greenskins don't just need to be good fighters; they need to use their brains! Otherwise, what's the difference between us and those fools who just shout blindly?"
Dragu nodded, half understanding, but his admiration for Kurzadh deepened—not only was the boss a great fighter, but he could also think up such "Devious" tactics. He truly was Gork and Mork's God's herald!
The group walked toward the tribe, the sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting long shadows on the ground.
The bound hobgoblins were still struggling but were immediately quieted after being kicked a few times by the hobgoblins.
The goblins kept their heads down, their short legs churning quickly, terrified of being left behind.
Kurzadh walked at the very front, feeling completely secure.
It seemed the matter of the Giant Wood tribe would be resolved soon.
Once they were dealt with, this forest would completely become the territory of the Blackrock Clan. Then they could expand the mushroom field, raise more goats and pheasants, and perhaps even build a Blacksmith Shop to forge their own iron weapons.
He looked back at the captives being dragged behind, then gazed into the depths of the forest—Kess, oh Kess, you probably don't know that your boys have been taken care of by me one by one, do you?
In the world of the greenskins , strength has never been determined solely by numbers.
Those who can fight, and more importantly, use their brains, are the ones who live longer and have more fun.
Kurzadh grinned, and his stride became wider.