Translator: AnubisTL
The few who stubbornly resisted were killed outright, while the rest were captured.
Less than twenty minutes later, Crescent Bay fell into an uncharacteristic silence. The goblins' ear-splitting shrieks had vanished, leaving only the muffled thud of centaur iron hooves trampling across wooden planks.
Silvermane swung his greatsword, sending droplets of dark green blood arcing through the air before sinking into the mud.
"Hammer, we meet again."
The centaur chieftain grinned, revealing a bloodstained smile.
The merchant forced a stiff smile. "Lord Zachary, we're just passing merchants. We have no intention of interfering in your conflict with the Gold Tooth Tribe."
Wyverns circled overhead, their shadows looming over the merchant ships.
Elite centaur warriors glared coldly, sharpening their spears and stamping their hooves, their eyes burning with predatory intent.
The merchant ships' meager defenses were no match for this force. Their only hope now was to beg for mercy.
"All the goods we carry, all our wealth, can be used to buy our lives," the merchant offered.
"Oh? Hammer, you're confused. If we kill you, all this will belong to us anyway."
Seeing the merchant drenched in cold sweat, Silvermane suddenly burst into laughter. He leaned down and clapped the merchant's shoulder with his massive arm. "Don't be nervous. That was just a little joke."
He added, "This battle is merely a private feud between us and the Gold Tooth Tribe. We won't take our anger out on you. Otherwise, you'd already be a corpse unable to speak."
The merchant stared around in disbelief. "Then what about these ores?"
"You can take the ores you bought as planned," Silvermane waved his hand. "The goblins' gold coins and spices are our spoils of war. Remember, the Ironforged Tribe only slays enemies, never merchants. We even offer you convenience and protection."
These were the iron dragon's instructions.
He had initially wanted to plunder everything, but reason and the trade knowledge inherited from his ancestors told him that establishing a reliable trading environment would be more beneficial for future development.
Even as the ship sailed away, gradually receding from Crescent Bay, the merchant captain remained in a daze.
They just let us go like that?
No slaughter of crew, no extortion?
We were caught in a tribal conflict and escaped unscathed? Still fully loaded with cargo?
In the Frontierlands, where the strong prey on the weak, there's actually a power that adheres to trade rules?
"Overseer, those centaurs and wyverns were terrifying. Let's take a different route next time, avoiding this place," the merchant apprentice said, trembling at the memory of the horrific scene.
"Fool!"
Hammer slapped the apprentice on the head. "Scary? You haven't seen enough. They didn't extort us or slaughter our crew. In a place like the Frontierlands, they're practically saints!"
To put it mildly,
Even the Gold Tooth Tribe, who had fixed trade relations with the Iron Shield Merchant Guild, would try every trick in the book to extort gold coins from them during transactions, with their insatiable goblin chieftains skimming off the top.
"The Ironforged Tribe are much better trading partners," the overseer thought to himself.
As he watched the riverbank recede into the distance, he calculated that with the Ironforged Tribe's straightforward approach, he could bring more Iron Shield Merchant Guild ships next time to trade with them.
Meanwhile,
A wyvern, its iron chains dangling from its talons and secured to a mech golem, flapped its wings and gradually ascended into the sky, first heading toward the Sulfur Hills to deliver its cargo to the Ironforged Tribe's alchemy outpost.
Centaur warriors swiftly scoured Crescent Bay.
The gold coins the goblins had just obtained from the merchants were collected, along with many intact spices, ores, and other goods.
The merchants had acquired the ores they sought and returned fully laden, while the Ironforged Tribe had secured gold coins and additional spoils, making it a highly profitable exchange for both sides.
Only the goblins caught in the middle were injured.
At that moment, a wyvern circling high above let out a piercing screech, alerting the warriors cleaning up the battlefield that reinforcements from the Gold Tooth Tribe had arrived.
"Retreat! Burn everything that's left!" Silvermane immediately ordered.
The centaurs had arrived swiftly and retreated just as quickly, their four hooves pounding the earth as they galloped away like the wind, leaving behind only the ravaged ruins of Crescent Bay.
Soon after, the ground trembled as alchemy golems marched into Crescent Bay. In addition to older models like the flesh rippers, there were also many more advanced types—golems the Gold Tooth Tribe could never have built themselves. Without exception, they were all manned mecha.
Perhaps because the goblins were so short and frail, the mecha allowed them to become towering figures. They were particularly fond of these mech golems.
Before leaving, the centaurs had set the entire area ablaze, turning it into a sea of fire. The cockpits of the mecha reflected the roaring flames consuming the buildings and facilities.
"The Ironforged Tribe... do they want war with us?!"
A goblin chieftain trembled with rage, declaring, "Our losses are catastrophic! At least ten thousand gold coins have vanished!"
The deaths of their goblin kin mattered little to them.
But the destruction of Crescent Bay, the plundered goods, and the lost gold coins—these financial losses were unforgivable in the goblins' eyes.
News of Crescent Bay's destruction quickly reached the Gold Tooth Tribe's stronghold.
After deliberation among the goblin elders, they resolved to make the Ironforged Tribe pay the price.
Constrained by other commitments, the Gold Tooth Tribe wouldn't launch a full-scale war against the Ironforged Tribe. However, since the Ironforged Tribe had raided Crescent Bay, their riverside outposts would find no peace either.
A consensus was reached: an eye for an eye.
The price war had ended.
Now, the true 'trade war'—a conflict sparked by trade—was about to begin.
Under the cloak of night, the Estonian Great River continued to flow, its waves shimmering under the moonlight. But on the banks, the killing intent had already reached a boiling point.
(End of the Chapter)
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