Goblin Dependency
Chapter 142 - 95: Secret

Chapter 142: Chapter 95: Secret

Accompanied by a high-level professional.

For Xia Nan, the danger level at the outskirts of the Mist Forest was not much different from River Valley Town.

The routine of "eating-training-sleeping" was the same, except the food became simpler, changing from stewed meat and mushroom soup to jerky and black bread, and the training venue shifted from outside woods to the goblin nest.

He even felt that the quality of sleep was better now.

After all, being in the desolate wilderness, there were no rowdy drinkers yelling or the creaky sounds of quaking stairs.

What should be the greatest concern, those dangerous demons accustomed to nighttime hunting, were also deterred by barbarian Frogon’s unabashed Transcendent aura, not daring to come near.

Xia Nan did not become overly relaxed because of this.

After all, he was just a novice who had embarked on the path of an adventurer for only two or three months.

During the mission, he needed to develop habits that might not be useful now but would be crucial for his safety in the future.

For example: night watch and traps.

Regarding the latter, even the chilling cold in the air caused the dullest grey mice in the forest to instinctively stay away for survival.

He still meticulously set up many alert traps around the camp like clockwork.

Since leaving River Valley Town till now, none have been triggered.

But it brought peace of mind.

As for the night watch...

Even though the barbarian never mentioned any such requirement to Xia Nan, he still took the initiative to allocate time with him.

Frogon remained as silent as ever.

Neither agreeing nor opposing.

Just quietly adjusted his routine from staying awake all night to resting during the first half of the night and waking up in the deep night as scheduled.

Half a night was enough for Xia Nan to recover the energy spent on daytime training.

Today, the situation seemed slightly different.

The remnant moon, veiled by thick clouds, barely adorned the treetops, never reaching the zenith of the sky, when the barbarian awoke amidst the howling cold wind.

Unlike the past few days, he did not hone his obsidian axe with ice crystals and frost.

Just quietly sat by the campfire, gazing at the fine chain in his hands.

Of course, Frogon noticed the gaze from the other side of the camp.

Also aware his unusual behavior tonight had caught the attention of the observant newcomer.

No intention to explain.

Feeling the cold touch of the metal chain wrapped around his fingers, rubbing the pendant with his fingertips, his ice-pool-like eyes slightly dazed.

Frost Moss High Plateau, where the violent and fierce ice and snow became natural barriers, isolating the people living there for generations from the outside world.

Over countless years, though occasionally, young people ventured outside in pursuit of their own paths, bringing changes back to the tribe.

But the barbarian members of the Frost Throat Clan still adhered to the ancestral traditions.

Preserving the most cherished prey of their life in the form of ornaments or tattoos.

This simple yet sturdy necklace had accompanied him for years, but he didn’t wear it until he came of age.

Frogon’s earliest memories of killing, prey, and trophies can be traced back to when he was six.

An "tundra lemming" whose fright was unknown burst into the hut in panic.

The specific process was already blurred.

Just remembered clearly, when he plunged the Ice Dagger gifted by the tribal warrior into the lemming’s spine.

The gradually dimming eyes of the opponent and the convulsing muscles beneath the fur.

It wasn’t any special feeling, nor did it leave any shadow.

Warriors battling with the ice and snow will eventually experience death.

Besides, Frogon’s deepest memory.

Was only the fragrant lemming soup that night and the lemming fur vest that helped him through the harsh winter that year.

Then, when he was twelve.

Already the strongest child in the tribe, starting practical training under the guidance of the tribal warriors, Frogon.

Unexpectedly encountered a starving Snow Spider on his way back from the training ground.

On his chest, slightly left, near the heart, there is a bloody wound.

Even now, years later, one can still see the scar remnants on the skin surface.

The snow spider limb that left the scar was smashed and turned into a pendant, now hanging on the outermost part of the chain.

At sixteen, following the Hunting Team into the depths of the snowfield, he accidentally got separated from the main group, and was hunted by a newly hatched White Dragon hatchling.