The two proceeded according to plan. Kane stayed in the hut to secretly undergo the trial, while Anvil was responsible for delivering the signal for rebellion.
He took a deep breath, as if steeling his resolve, then began flailing his limbs about, shrieking weirdly as he charged out of the slave camp. He even grabbed mud from the ground and smeared it all over his face and beard.
"Hehe, it's glowing... the stone is glowing..."
He babbled nonsense, acting like a complete madman, and slammed headfirst into a support pillar of a nearby hut, causing the entire shack to shake violently.
The guarding goblins were startled at first, but once they saw it was just a crazy dwarf, they immediately burst into shrill, mocking laughter.
"This guy's lost his mind."
"Must be hallucinating from hunger."
The Goblin Overseer walked over with disgust, lifted a foot clad in a worn leather boot, and kicked Anvil hard in the stomach.
"Get back, you stinking thing! Don't clutter up the place!"
The goblins laughed even louder, completely letting their guard down, thinking this was just another boring episode of a slave's daily breakdown.
However, when the Corrupted believers scattered in various corners of the camp witnessed this scene, they instantly understood it was the signal Kane had given them.
Were they moving up the timetable?
Makes sense, the timing was perfect now.
Thinking this, the believers' hearts began to pound wildly. They quietly slipped back into their huts or shadows and began preparing for their trials.
...
Inside Anvil's hut, Little John nervously crouched behind the tattered cloth door curtain. He watched through a crack until he saw Anvil crawl back, then finally let out a small sigh of relief. He turned and gave a firm nod to Kane, who was deeper inside the hut.
Kane took a deep breath of the musty air, his expression resolute, and extended his rough left hand.
According to the information provided by the mysterious force, the first step of the trial was to sacrifice something closely related to "revenge."
He had nothing left, only this tormented body itself.
If Morgul wants it, then take it.
He closed his eyes, praying to Morgul, whispering to the endless humiliation and hatred in his heart.
Suddenly, he felt as if an icy, invisible giant hand had clenched his heart. A sensation of being watched by a chaotic entity abruptly descended upon him.
The ring finger on his left hand began to emit a strange, grayish-purple mist. The skin and flesh seemed to evaporate silently and without a trace. An excruciating pain originating from the depths of his soul suddenly appeared, as if his entire finger had been chopped off, put into a meat grinder, and pulverized.
The grayish-purple mist erupting from his ring finger grew denser, rapidly enveloping and swallowing his entire body.
His consciousness was violently yanked away from reality, dragged into a "Nameless Land" where only rolling grayish-purple mist existed.
Just as he felt disoriented, he saw the mist ahead gradually coalesce into a scene. A Goblin Soldier with a cruel, sneering grin on its face appeared.
It was raising a rusted short sword, advancing towards the silhouette of a mercenary lying unconscious on the ground...
A figure he could never forget.
Memories instantly flooded his mind. It was as if he had returned to the night they were captured by the Goblin Army.
Lina, the woman he loved, rather than fall into the goblins' hands, had used the very blade he killed enemies with to slit her own throat. Her body had then been heartlessly kicked down a low slope.
"Lina... NO!!!"
The painful wound was torn open. Kane's eyes were instantly filled with bloodshot veins and insane fury. He let out a roar like a wounded beast.
Not even noticing that his fist had somehow completely turned into mist, he charged frantically towards the goblin phantom, fueled by hatred that wanted to burn everything to ash.
Similar scenes were playing out simultaneously in various inconspicuous corners of the slave camp.
Desperate seekers of vengeance were being forced to confront their deepest scars and obsessions.
However, Chen Yu knew passing the trial wouldn't be that simple.
This trial was less about physical combat and more an extremely cruel "Willpower Check."
Only those believers whose obsession with revenge was powerful enough, who were even willing to burn everything for it, had a chance to endure and draw upon the chaotic power belonging to "Morgul."
This deity seemed to have a particular fondness for such twisted yet steadfast souls.
...
Back inside the hut, after Anvil stealthily returned, he immediately hid in the deepest part with Little John.
He carefully pulled out the pale gray Jade Talisman from his chest, along with several sheets of Magic Paper and a few faintly glowing gray crystals.
"Kid, lend a hand."
He and Little John, following the crude method Chen Yu had taught them last night, began arranging them on the ground as quickly as possible.
The trials were underway, and the magic formation was being set up. Everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion.
Yet, it was precisely at such moments that fate loved to play jokes. An unexpected incident occurred abruptly.
"GGRRAAAAHHHH—!!!"
From the neighboring hut, Kane's beast-like roar suddenly erupted, filled with unimaginable pain and madness, as if he were enduring the torture of his soul being torn apart.
The commotion was too loud, instantly alerting the nearby Goblin Overseers.
"What's going on over there?!"
"Let's check it out!"
The mocking laughter vanished from the goblins' faces, replaced by vigilance and ferocity.
They brandished their whips, lashing and shoving aside slaves blocking their path, cursing and swearing as they headed towards the hut area where the noise originated.
In other parts of the camp, the Corrupted believers on watch felt a jolt of alarm.
Seeing the goblins were about to ruin everything, someone took the lead. Gritting their teeth, several believers suddenly shoved the numb slaves next to them, deliberately provoking conflict.
"Why are you bumping into me!"
"Looking for death?!"
Instantly, arguments escalated into brawls. Resentment and chaos, suppressed for so long, exploded like a spark falling into a barrel of oil.
Multiple camps almost simultaneously descended into inexplicable brawls and shoving matches. The situation spiraled completely out of control.
"Damn it! These wretched slaves are trying to cause trouble!"
The Goblin Overseers immediately understood. They roared, drawing their iron hammers, trying to push through the chaotic crowd to suppress the source.
"Kid, I leave this to you. Remember, don't come out no matter what."
Seeing the situation turning bad, Anvil hurriedly put down his work and rushed out to intercept.
He had just burst out of the hut when he saw several well-equipped Goblin Soldiers already cursing and shoving their way through the brawling crowd, approaching this area.
"Get lost, you dwarf scum!" A goblin raised its One-handed Hammer, ready to strike.
The anger suppressed for years erupted completely at this moment.
This long-enduring dwarf warrior awoke like a rolling boulder. He sidestepped the hammer blow, the muscles on his thick arms bulging, and delivered a powerful punch squarely onto the goblin's helmet.
"CLANG!"
A dull sound echoed. The helmet visibly dented inward. The goblin crumpled to the ground without even a grunt.
Anvil swiftly grabbed the One-handed Hammer that had fallen to the ground and charged out like a whirlwind. With another swing of the hammer, he smashed another attacking goblin's head, splattering brains.
But more goblins swarmed forward. They wore Leather Armor and wielded iron weapons.
Anvil only had his tattered slave clothes. Though brave, he lacked protection. Soon, several bloody gashes were opened on his body, forcing him to retreat.
"Don't let him get away! Kill the traitor!"
The goblins screeched. More guards poured in from other areas.
Seeing he was about to be surrounded, blood streaming down his body, a look of utter resolve flashed across his face. He prepared to fight to the death.
Just then, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest. A gentle, warm flow instantly spread from the Slime hiding on his back, rapidly reaching his wounds.
The fairly deep gashes visibly stopped bleeding and closed up at a remarkable speed.
It was the healing spell from that night.
Anvil was stunned for a moment, then grinned, a smile mixed with bloody foam, all hesitation gone.
"For freedom!"
He let out a roar like a dwarven battle cry, brandishing the One-handed Hammer, and charged back into the goblin crowd like a berserker.
The goblins, who had been sneering, thinking they could easily finish off this wounded dwarf, were shocked to find their opponent fighting more fiercely, his wounds seemingly having no effect, his hammer techniques savage and overwhelming.
What terrified them even more was that the corpses of their fallen companions were rapidly desiccating and withering, as if their life force was being drained away.
"A demon! He sold his soul to a demon!"
More and more goblins fell. Finally, the last two goblins screamed in terror, dropped their weapons, and scrambled away, shrieking for help.
Anvil knelt on one knee, panting heavily. Before he could catch his breath, he heard denser footsteps and curses coming from the camp entrance.
Goblin reinforcements had arrived!
A full dozen fully armed Goblin Soldiers charged in, followed by a few sneering slingers.
A sense of danger instantly enveloped Anvil.
At this critical moment.
"ROAR—!!!"
From the hut behind him, a bestial roar, completely unlike any human sound, erupted violently.
Immediately after, the tattered cloth door curtain of the hut was utterly shredded by a tremendous force. A human figure, shrouded in thick, swirling grayish-purple mist, charged out like a runaway war machine. It carried an unstoppable, destructive momentum, frantically lunging straight towards the stunned goblins.
Was that... Kane?!