My love game is too abstract

The priestess stared at him blankly, the smell of blood still lingering in the air. She opened her mouth and said, "Thank you."

Then, as if she had lost all her strength, she collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face.

Yarrow turned his head and looked towards the boiler, where Owen had already dealt with the other two goblins.

After untying them, they were mostly intact, with only five slightly injured, but two unlucky ones had already been processed into meat.

"I thought I was going to die..."

Charles touched his pounding chest, the feeling of surviving a disaster making his whole body weak, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"Ha, haha, this must be because of my protagonist halo!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he was suddenly kicked from behind and fell to the ground. The priestess went up and started punching and kicking him.

"I'll beat you to death, you shameless bastard! You useless thing, you actually wanted to play with me with the goblins! Are you even human, you beastly thing!"

"Now there's another injured person."

Yarrow turned to look at his teammates.

The adventure team members who had just been rescued all had a look of deathly gray on their faces. From their faces, it could be seen that none of them wanted to stay in this ghostly place for another second.

"Thank you for saving me. Um, where is that Dragonborn lady?" someone asked.

"She was lured away. I don't know where she ran off to now," Yarrow said.

Owen led him to the deep well area, but there he saw passages that had been blown to pieces, and Zesia had no idea where she had run to in these passages.

"Now, let's go to the prison and rescue the village chief's family, and then leave this place," Yarrow said.

He pointed to Owen and said to the others, "This is Owen. He is very familiar with the terrain here and can be our guide."

"Hello, hello..."

The other adventurers greeted him one after another. Although they didn't know who this armored man was, judging from his equipment and the aura he exuded, this person was terrifyingly strong, and he looked like a goblin-killing expert at first glance.

The adventurers' equipment was thrown in a corner of the kitchen. They took their respective weapons and equipment and left the kitchen.

After they had all left, a goblin walked in through the front door.

"Hey! Where's today's food? You're not just busy pulling radishes and not cooking, are you! My brothers are starving to death..."

He looked at the empty kitchen, ropes scattered all over the floor, and several goblin corpses lying on the ground.

He immediately rushed to the front yard dining hall and roared, "Damn it, brothers, grab your weapons! Lunch has been let go!"

A large group of goblins rushed out, howling, and the cave rumbled like the opening of a sports meet.

After a large group of goblins ran past, a small hole opened slightly in the wall. Yarrow glanced outside and immediately closed it.

"It's a bit dangerous. Now the cave is full of goblins."

He turned his head and said to his teammates who were squeezing into the small hole.

"I do know another way, but it'll be very far," Owen said.

"There's no other way," Yarrow looked at him.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Owen."

Owen's staghorn helmet looked at him, and a muffled voice came from inside: "Leave it to me."

After there were no goblins outside, Owen led them out, detoured along two paths, moved aside a stone by the roadside, and a passage appeared that was wide enough for one person to walk through while crouching.

The passage was a downward slope. After walking for about ten minutes, they crawled out of this narrow passage.

"We're here. This is the goblin prison."

The temperature here seemed even colder and more humid, obviously a very deep area with no light. Occasionally, a piece of luminous fluorite was embedded in the walls, emitting a faint light.

On both sides of the road were low prison cells, less than half a person tall, enclosed by fences, with cold air constantly blowing outwards from inside.

As they walked, the priestess looked at those dark prison cells with some fear: "Can there really be living people locked up in this kind of place..."

"Don't say it out loud! What if the goblins hear us?"

As soon as she said this, suddenly, a hand stretched out from a prison cell by the road and grabbed the ankle of the passing priestess.

"Ahhh! There's a ghost!"

She screamed, kicked the hand away, and ran forward in panic.

"Shut your mouth!"

Yarrow roared in a low voice, grabbed her angrily, and forcefully covered her mouth.

The priestess could only make muffled noises while her mouth was covered, and she raised her hand and kept pointing at the prison cell.

Yarrow looked over. Now everyone was far away from that prison cell, and a withered arm, like a tree trunk, was half-hanging outside.

Yarrow stepped forward, squatted down in front of the prison cell, and raised the luminous fluorite.

The light illuminated an old, unshaven face with a beard, and two lifeless eyes stared at him.

"Are you the village chief?" Yarrow asked.

"Yes, it's me... Finally, finally, humans have come..." Old Mike squeezed out a weak voice from his throat.

There was a lock hanging on the iron fence door. Although it was rusty, it seemed very strong after being pulled a few times.

"Who knows demolition?" He looked at the others.

A small goblin tremblingly raised his hand.

"I, I know a little."

"Okay, you try," Yarrow said.

The goblin nodded, held his staff and stepped forward:

"Village chief, please lean back a little," the goblin said, standing in front of the prison cell.

Then he chanted a spell and pointed at the prison door.

With a muffled bang, the prison door was blown out of shape, enough for one person to crawl out from inside.

They dragged Old Mike out from inside.

"Where is your family?" Yarrow asked.

Old Mike shook his head: "I don't know, they locked me up separately."

"Then they should be in another prison cell," Owen guessed.

"Village chief, you've suffered a lot," someone said.

"Ah..." Old Mike nodded slightly, paused, and tears couldn't help but stream down his face.

He covered his face and cried softly.

"I'm, I'm sorry, I, I just feel like crying a little..."

"It seems he really experienced something terrible."

Finally, the village chief was rescued, and the mission could be considered partially completed. They continued to move forward under Owen's guidance.

"By the way, your demolition skills are also very powerful. Why didn't you use them before when dealing with the goblins?" Yarrow asked the goblin beside him.

"That, that's because, I get nervous when I encounter enemies, and when I get nervous, I can't chant the spell..." the goblin said.

"So, your demolition skills can't be used when you encounter enemies?"

"Yeah."

"..."

After leaving the prison cell area, the road also widened and began to have an upward slope.

"We can leave this place by going up," Owen said.

They walked upwards. With such an experienced guide, many people began to relax.

"I didn't expect it to be so smooth this time. We haven't encountered a single goblin."

"After this mission is over, I will never accept goblin quests again."

Just as everyone was starting to breathe a sigh of relief, Owen suddenly stopped them.

"Wait, something's not right."

"What's wrong?" Yarrow asked.

"This road isn't this long." Owen looked at the endlessly extending slope ahead, and said in a low voice.

"According to the time we've been moving, we should have already reached the end, but..."

Everyone was shocked, and a creepy feeling rose from the soles of their feet.

"Hee hee..."

A piercing laugh rang out around them. At the same time, the surrounding scenery began to shatter, and the cave walls on both sides extended rapidly in all directions. In a few breaths, they were no longer standing in the cave passage, but inside a huge cavern.

"It's, it's illusion magic!" someone shouted in panic.

Everyone's eyes shifted over. In the center of the cavern, on a high platform piled up with white bones, lay a fat, extremely ugly goblin.

A strange smile piled up on that green-skinned face full of fat, and it was looking at them, laughing creakingly.

"Owen, you little bastard, you're not dead yet."