Goblin Dependency

"Hmm?"

The scorching sensation rushing down the back of his neck made Xia Nan pause for a moment, almost thinking he was under attack.

Then he instantly realized.

"[Green Pine]?"

From the Snake Cave Secret Realm, the first rare "Blue Equipment" he acquired after crossing over, possessing the eastern classical aesthetic Wooden Sword, its effectiveness was indeed formidable:

+15% damage to Undead Creatures (Flame Sun)

+20% damage to snakes and Scorpion creatures (Flame Sun)

Before his combat style was fully formed, it provided significant support.

Unfortunately, since the trip to Kalanfor, Xia Nan hadn't encountered any enemy that could trigger [Green Pine]'s additional damage effect, making this weapon, despite being carried on his back, much less frequently used than his other pieces of Equipment.

It only came unsheathed in some narrow environments or when the Beheading Longsword slipped from his hand.

Although he never intended to sell it, he often thought it a pity, feeling it wasted the one-handed sword's capabilities.

After obtaining the Professional Level, upon ascending to the Association Second Floor, Xia Nan even specifically sought missions that might trigger the Wooden Sword's effect.

Later, after careful consideration, he deemed it unnecessary to deliberately increase the mission's difficulty just to make the Wooden Sword seem useful, and so it ended without any decision.

Until today, it had been two to three hundred days since the trip to Kalanfor when [Green Pine] suddenly stirred unexpectedly.

His mind quietly turned, and the scene before him, the inexplicable activation of the Wooden Sword, was clearly related to the dried corpse kneeling in devout prayer beneath the ruined statue ahead.

Unless there was some Scorpion hidden inside the body, or it wouldn't inexplicably turn into a giant snake.

Most likely, it was the so-called "Undead Creatures" described in the weapon's description.

However...

Xia Nan's expression suddenly became somewhat peculiar.

Even across a considerable distance, he couldn't detect the slightest trace of Negative Energy, which should belong to the undead of this world, nor any other Magic Particles on that figure.

This phenomenon defied the natural laws of the Aifala Continent.

But it shared common characteristics with the giant snake's remains, the Gravity Core, and the Sheep-Deer Statue he encountered earlier.

Xia Nan's gaze flickered, as he linked it to the scene before him, and he became even more convinced of the guess that Grey Valley might be connected to a Secret Realm entrance.

Meanwhile, the adventurers on the field ahead were cautiously probing this "uninvited guest" they encountered in the mist.

"Hey! Can you understand?"

With two scimitars drawn, Marcus raised his voice slightly, cautiously calling out to the mummified figure ahead.

When he received no response, he even switched to greetings in other languages like Elf Language, Beastman Language, and Dwarf Language.

Of course, he wasn't some prodigy linguist, but as an adventurer, he mastered a few simple greetings beyond curse words.

Still no response.

At this moment, the eerie silhouette shrouded beneath a tattered cloak seemed like the most devout fanatic, just bowing in prayer, oblivious to the outside happenings.

"Roar... Damn it!"

The Half-orc Gorg growled with irritation, twisting his thick, ordinary-man-thigh-sized neck uncomfortably, seeming somewhat uneasy in the eerie, oppressive atmosphere.

Instinctively, he took a step forward, leaving footprints on the dust-covered ground.

His sidelong glance fell on the squad leader Marcus, seeing no response to his abrupt move.

The tacit understanding cultivated in numerous missions made Gorg understand in his heart; he had the leader's implicit consent.

With a loud roar, he charged straight toward the mummy.

Admittedly, although Gorg seemed somewhat slow-witted, his racial talent of towering over two meters, coupled with those swollen muscles as if they might rip through the skin, and the layer of Metal Armor draped over him.

From afar, he resembled a small tank, capable of making some slender and timid warriors on the battlefield surrender in fear before an actual fight.

Yet, the mummy made no movement.

Only clasped its hands together, hiding its withered, shriveled face in the cloak's shadow, uttering incomprehensible "hu hu" sounds.

Bang—

It was like a blunt tool striking bark.

The dull, slow sound suddenly erupted in the air, quickly dissipating into the surrounding mist.

A massive wooden club, clad in iron, swung with an exaggerated force capable of shattering rocks, stirring whirlwind and dense fog, heavily striking against the mummy's frail, emaciated waist.

If replayed in slow motion, it would reveal the mummy's fragile body bending at a right angle almost instantaneously due to the violent impact.

Then, under the elasticity of the flesh, it slightly returned to its original state, with the whole body being directly struck and sent flying.

But strangely, despite its apparent fragility, skin as thin as paper, seemingly easily broken by a casual scratch of a nail; bones thinner than any random twig found in the forest, likely to snap from a mere fall.

The terrifying swing of Half-orc Gorg, which could split a fully-grown man in two, did not have the imagined effect on the mummy's body.

He only felt that beneath the iron club, it was not a frail, thin, powerless mummy, but rather some bag filled with paste, exceptionally heavy, absorbing the force into its desiccated skin.