Goblin Dependency
Chapter 327 - 172 Banquet and Portrait_2

Chapter 327: Chapter 172 Banquet and Portrait_2

He didn’t want to get inexplicably involved in some conflict because of his momentary indulgence.

Especially at this critical time when the City Lord’s position is teetering.

Retracting his gaze, Cornell gently rubbed the Enchanted Silver Ring on his finger, feeling the intricate, delicate patterns on its surface, his eyes slightly lost as he looked at the crowd passing by.

Even without mentioning the mentor behind him, and the background of the Royal Academy.

Solely relying on his professional level of "9," approaching Transcendent status, along with his relatively Rare "Spellcaster" identity, was enough to make him, during these days in Neum, a sought-after acquaintance among many nobles.

Although he was accustomed to it, after so many days, he inevitably felt a bit impatient.

This could be seen from the fact that he moved his residence to the Moon God Church.

If not for waiting for the night of the "Moon Feast" to leverage the changes in the moon’s phase and divine power fluctuations to resurrect his teammate, he would have likely left long ago.

His gaze swept over the food on the table in front of him, and under the perception of his spiritual power, the Golden Haired Elf’s corpse floated, still and suspended within the ring’s space.

For some reason, Cornell suddenly thought of his Half orc teammate, named "Volga," who had already died in the goblin nest.

He felt a sense of relief in his heart, glad that the other party had already passed away.

Otherwise, bringing that brute here now, he might have already devoured all the food on the table.

That would be rather disgraceful.

"Rejecting an invitation from a lovely lady, that’s not like you."

"Has your taste changed, now looking down on others?"

The teasing words came from beside his ear.

Turning his head to look, naturally appearing before him was the core figure of this banquet, Isidor, a Priest from the "Moon God Church".

At this moment, he held a delicate wine glass in his hand, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Though he still wore his Priest’s Robe, and the Holy Emblem of the goddess hung around his neck.

But perhaps because the surrounding environment had shifted from the serene and sacred church to the booze-filled, bustling banquet now.

The aura he exuded was less of sacred dignity befitting a clergyman, and more of the ordinary human warmth.

"Drinking so much again, you’re really not worried about the goddess holding it against you."

With a smile, Cornell casually responded, raising his glass towards him, and took a light sip.

The Priest Isidor, on the other hand, simply gulped down his drink.

Then he raised his left hand, gently placed it over the Holy Emblem on his chest, and slightly closed his eyes, murmuring a brief prayer.

Serenne, who holds dominion over the [Moon] and [Stars], called the [Silver Saint Mother] and [Moon Maiden], is a lady of peace and inclusivity.

She doesn’t, like some divines do, stringently demand her followers to adhere to certain rigid principles or offer specific sacrifices regularly.

Her teachings, which hope for the holy light to illuminate everyone, wish for all living beings to receive her blessings and guidance, emphasizing "tolerance" and "acceptance."

This goddess seeks for her faith to develop in an equal and understanding manner among her worshipers.

Also due to Serenne’s own inclusivity, her followers are notably diverse and widespread.

Women, sailors, soldiers, Beastmen...

The lady guides lost souls under the moonlight and gifts freedom as a blessing to her worshipers.

Indeed, Isidor is the highest-ranking Priest of the Moon God Church, and has traveled furthest down the path of the professional road.

And it’s precisely because of this that he deeply understands the goddess’s teachings and the codes of conduct she requires.

Drinking, taking breaks, and even occasional minor indulgences do not affect his profound faith in the goddess.

As long as he upholds his core beliefs without crossing the line that had been etched into his heart from the day he joined the faith.

He remains the goddess’s most devout believer.

Familiar with Isidor, knowing that what he said was merely a joke, long accustomed to such a personality.

Cornell has visited many places and met numerous priests and mages from various divines.

He knows very well in his heart.

Priests, when they remove their robes, still have to eat, sleep, and have personal desires like ordinary people.

Unless they are fanatic followers who have completely internalized certain doctrines, no one can ensure that their every word and deed aligns with divine requirements.

Just gently twisting the ring on his finger.

Buzz—

A silver light briefly flickered.

A bottle of fruit wine, with an exterior exuding rich natural style, appeared on the small table beside him.

"Try it, a specialty from the Emerald Forest, you surely haven’t tried it before."

"Is it his again?" Isidor raised an eyebrow slightly, stepping forward to pick up the bottle and fill himself a glass.

"Hey."

"Once he’s resurrected, he shouldn’t know, right?"

"Just consider it interest on the resurrection fee."

Cornell crossed his legs, gently swirled the wine in his glass, appearing particularly at ease.

The two of them chatted on and off, dismissing a few guests who came over to network, the others at the banquet soon caught on that these two professionals did not wish to be disturbed and wisely stayed away.

He thought the evening would pass smoothly like this.

As the banquet was nearing its end, a purposeful set of footsteps swiftly approached them.

Glancing over, Cornell saw a man in his forties or fifties, with wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Seemingly having dressed up for the banquet, his hair was neatly styled against his head, and he donned a somewhat expensive custom suit.

To ordinary people, he might appear as a slightly down-and-out noble, or a businessman with fairly decent success.

However, Cornell, the mage with years of adventuring experience, detected the awkwardness in his movements, typical of someone unaccustomed to wearing formal attire.

Coupled with the fierce aura unique to adventurers and those engaged in gray areas.

His gaze instinctively passed over the eight fingers missing two little fingers.

He pondered slightly and came up with a rough guess.

——A leader of some medium to small-sized gang.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Eight finger’s face bore a smile he had rehearsed countless times, polite with a hint of flattery.

His murky eyes swept over the Holy Emblem at the priest’s neck and the few rings on the mage’s fingers.

Knowing the two were high-level professionals.

He cautiously approached, not daring to meet their gaze, only lowering his eyes, staring at the soft suede short boots.

"I hope I’m not offending you, I..."

"Just get to the point." Cornell, atypically blunt, spoke right away, "What do you have, and what do you want?"

As the banquet was about to end, only attending due to the presence of the priest and a few high-ranking city officials, the mage had already lost patience for crafting words and social pretense.

Especially considering the other was merely an ordinary gang leader.

Yet, on the other hand, being able to infiltrate a banquet of this level, seemingly aware of their identities, and still daring to approach them implied he had something to offer.

And this was precisely why he was willing to let the other continue speaking.

Unexpectedly, things progressed so smoothly; Eight finger stretched his mouth, taking out a package which he had taken time to rewrap with silk cloth beforehand, from his bosom, and handed it over:

"To be honest with you, I operate a security organization named ’Gray Badger’ in the West City District, and recently a friend gave me something. Thinking it might be of use to you, I specifically brought it here, hoping..."

Instinctively overlooking the man’s words in front of him.

With a light tap of his fingers, a semi-translucent human hand materialized in midair, taking the package from his hand.

Peeling back the layers of silk cloth.

The gray-black and greenish colors appeared even more obscure under the lighting.

Caught in the array of the aged peculiar antlers, winding upward into the depths of the patternless indentations.

They revealed what he had not expected, but had already seen once in the hands of the Priest from the Moon God Church, which had eluded him: the [Sheep Deer Statue].

Cornell’s expression paused.

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