"Hey, grass-eater!"
The largest goblin stepped forward. "What's that in your hands? Smells good! Give it to me!"
He was nearly 0.8 meters tall—huge for an infant goblin, his muscles already thick and defined. Among the eight, he was clearly the strongest.
Li Qinwu frowned slightly.
He tightened his grip on the crude spear and took a small step back.
Eight of them.
All infants—but even so, armed with nothing more than a fragile spear, he wasn't much stronger than they were.
The advantage isn't mine.
The nickname grass-eater came from the fact that they'd seen him lying in the weeds every day, chewing grass just to survive.
Goblin names were always like that—simple, cruel, and lazy.
Grass-eater. Dirt-chewer. Shit-licker. Fat Gob. Thin Gob.
Li Qinwu stepped back again.
The goblins stepped forward with him.
Their eyes were burning with naked greed.
Running was impossible.
But giving up the bone?
That meant going back to grass.
Never again.
His thoughts raced.
Then—
He smiled.
"Sure," Li Qinwu said pleasantly. "You can have it."
He tossed the roasted leg bone forward. It landed at the goblins' feet.
"We're brothers, aren't we?" he said lightly. "Good things should be shared."
The bone hit the ground.
Marrow spilled out.
The smell exploded.
In an instant, every goblin lost all reason.
They screamed and lunged like animals, clawing at each other to seize the bone.
Now.
Li Qinwu moved.
Stone in his left hand. Spear in his right.
He hurled the stone with all his strength.
Thud.
It smashed into the back of a goblin's skull.
The goblin let out a short scream and collapsed, twitching.
Li Qinwu was already moving.
He closed the distance in two steps, eyes cold.
The spear shot forward.
Thrust.
The crude tusk blade punched into a goblin's abdomen.
"GRAAAH—!"
The goblin dropped to his knees, shrieking, blood pouring out.
Li Qinwu ripped the spear free and struck again.
Another scream.
Another body fell.
Only then did the remaining goblins realize what was happening.
Panic exploded.
They scattered.
Li Qinwu chased one down, kicked him flat, planted a foot on his back, and drove the spear down.
A final scream.
He didn't even check if it was dead—he leapt back, forcing distance between himself and the survivors.
His vision swam.
His body shook.
If not for the marrow he'd eaten earlier, he would've collapsed already.
Four goblins remained.
Four enemies.
If they surrounded him, he would die.
Li Qinwu steadied his breathing, eyes locked onto them, reading their posture.
Fear.
He'd dropped half their number in seconds.
The goblins' instinct to worship strength almost kicked in—
But hunger crushed it.
The leg bone still lay there, steaming, radiating the scent of fat and life.
Slowly, the four remaining goblins edged closer to the bone.
They picked up sticks. Stones.
Weapons.
Li Qinwu's expression darkened.
If this drags out, I could die.
Is it worth risking everything over one bone?
For a moment, hesitation flickered.
Then—
Ding.
You have killed a Goblin Infant. Experience +1.
Ding.
You have killed a Goblin Infant. Experience +1.
Ding.
You have killed a Goblin Infant. Experience +1.
Li Qinwu froze.
He opened his status panel.
---
Name: Li Qinwu
Race: Goblin (Infant)
Title: Grass-Eater
Description: You survived by eating grass, an act that shocked the goblin tribe.
Effect: Enhanced stomach. Can extract minimal nutrition from grass.
Penalty: A humiliating title. Goblin Charm -10.
Level: 0
Experience: 3 / 7
Magic: 0
Affinity: Dark
Faith: Native Goblin God
Attributes:
Vigor 3 (Polearm Proficiency 3)
Control 0
Endurance 0 (Forging Proficiency 2)
Cunning 0
Social 0
Intelligence 0
---
Three dead.
He looked back.
One goblin lay unconscious.
Three were bleeding out.
So that's how it works.
Four more kills.
One level.
In Mount & Blade, leveling meant attribute points. Strength. Speed. Survival.
In this world—
It meant life.
Li Qinwu raised his head.
The four remaining goblins stared at him, trembling, clutching their crude weapons.
Li Qinwu smiled.
A cold, feral smile.
"Who knows what horrors are waiting out there?" he murmured.
"So I'll take every chance to get stronger."
His gaze sharpened.
"Perfect," he said softly. "Four enemies. One level."
He tightened his grip on the spear.
"These goblins…"
"…are already dead."