“What a big guy!” Robert Miller licked his somewhat dry lips and carefully hid himself. He wasn’t particularly strong—just an average person.

And wild boars are nothing like the plump, docile pigs raised for slaughter. Even from a distance, Robert Miller could tell that the wild boar was much sturdier than he was.

What’s more, Robert Miller was a bipedal human, with a high center of gravity, making it especially hard to withstand a wild boar’s charge.

Although Robert Miller noticed the wild boar before it noticed him, even with a sharp machete, the advantage of striking first wasn’t enough to guarantee victory.

Robert Miller looked up at the sky, checked the time by the sun’s position, and estimated it was around one in the afternoon.

“If I don’t get a chance within another hour, I’ll just have to go home disappointed today.” Robert Miller felt a bit dejected, but he had no choice but to endure it.

Just as Robert Miller was about to give up, a sudden, piercing howl shattered the silence. His body, which had been gradually relaxing, tensed up like a startled cat. Robert Miller quickly crouched, crept forward a few steps, covered himself with plants, kept his head still, only squinting his eyes and darting his gaze around.

A strange gray-green creature had suddenly leapt out, stabbing a sword straight into the wild boar’s body!

Robert Miller’s eyes widened, trying to see more clearly. From a distance, he could just make out the odd creature’s appearance. It looked like a gray-green human from afar, but was very short and thin, about the same height as the wild boar. It wore a crude leather armor, held a spiked club in one hand, and the other hand was empty. The short sword stuck in the wild boar’s back was clearly also carried by this creature.

Robert Miller was instantly puzzled—this was obviously a goblin.

Goblins, also called “goblins,” are filthy little thieves. Robert Miller had once studied under a druid and, with his memories as a transmigrator, was not narrow-minded.

Out in the wilderness and forests, there were several goblin lairs. Goblins reproduced extremely quickly.

“But… since when did goblins become so brave?” Robert Miller felt sweat dripping down his forehead. “Could this one be a goblin warrior?”

The next second, the herd of boars scattered, and the stabbed, enraged lead boar, ignoring the short sword in its back, charged furiously at the goblin.

And then… there was none of the exciting battle Robert Miller had hoped for.

The “goblin warrior” ran for its life, while the wild boar chased it desperately. Before long, they had run far away—over a hundred meters. The goblin finally collapsed, howling in pain as it was knocked to the ground, then trampled as the boar charged past, blood splattering everywhere.

Robert Miller was left speechless.

Since when did “goblin warrior” become synonymous with overestimating oneself and being brainless?

The goblin warrior wasn’t dead yet, rolling on the ground and howling, while the big wild boar bared its tusks at it. If Robert Miller could understand the goblin’s language, maybe he’d know what all that howling meant, but right now Robert Miller had no interest in finding out.

A golden opportunity! That’s what Robert Miller thought, licking his lips and pulling out his knife.

It was one thing to be unable to take on an adult wild boar, but if he couldn’t even handle a piglet when the big boar was gone, he’d have nothing to say but cry in frustration.

The piglets instinctively ran toward safer spots—an animal’s instinct. Robert Miller picked a direction and sprinted for a while, quickly catching up to one. Although the fleeing piglet’s four legs moved rapidly, they were too short, and the high-frequency movement couldn’t make up for the lack of speed.

A golden opportunity… or so Robert Miller had just thought.

But just as he caught up to the piglet, a chill swept over him.

Five goblins suddenly appeared ahead.

However, it didn’t seem they were after him—they were intercepting the piglet, and several spears had already pierced its body.

So this was a wild boar hunting plan by a goblin tribe. The strange behavior of the goblin Robert Miller had mistaken for a “goblin warrior” now made sense—it was just a pawn thrown out as bait.

But at this moment, Robert Miller had blundered right into the goblins’ encirclement.

The goblins reacted quickly. In just a moment, Robert Miller was hit by some kind of thrown weapon, but fortunately, he was wearing a bulletproof vest and wasn’t hurt.

“Kill!” Struck by the attack, a wave of fear surged up. Robert Miller swung his machete wildly. The blade was exceptionally sharp, and the goblins’ wooden spears were no match. In the blink of an eye, he wounded one.

The other three turned to flee, but the now slightly crazed Robert Miller chased after them, cutting them down one by one.

Only after finishing did he have a chance to catch his breath.

He glanced at the blood-soaked goblins, and suddenly his legs trembled, and he nearly retched.

After a moment, Robert Miller recovered and carefully observed the goblins’ reactions.

All the goblins had been wounded by the sharp machete, blood streaming everywhere.