I Am the God of Games
chapter-387-30041322

Chapter 387 Just Robbers, In the End

Since living conditions in the encampment of the Crookes survivors were rather horrid and it was likely that some double-agent or whatnot had blended in, the Church of Games did not build their hill-folk dungeon over there.

In fact, the Players who specialized in Life Skills receive a quest to excavate and construct a dungeon just two days ago.

Doing that, however, was not as easy as it sounds.

One must not forget that the patron deity of their opponent was the Lord of the Peakseven if he was not the ruler of the ground, he possessed some extent of Earth Authority. Naturally, his believers would be adept in sacred arts connected to the earth element.

If you would simply dig a hole and throw them in, you would be blanking out when you find an empty jail just ten minutes later, and be prepared to fight those moles adept at digging holes in a tunnel battle.

That was why the dungeon which the Life Skill Players built was a ‘game facility’ that Xi Wei strengthened with his own Earth Authority.

The restraints were set to three different standards depending on the criminal: ‘minor sacred-arts immunity’ was tailored against your average hill-folk, ‘earth-element insulation’ that prevented priests or clerics to use their powers, as well as ‘Game Rule: No touching of ground’ that sealed the powers of any high-ranked hill-folk hierarchs.

As a part of the event experience, after beating up any hill-folk they found, combat-class Players could use the lifestone to dump their captives into the corresponding dungeon to earn the corresponding amount of points. Since the top rewards of this reward were a hidden-class for the four classes of mage, warrior, ranger and cleric, almost every Player was feeling motivated to beat up some hill-folk.

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It was fortunate that they could identify targets with the words hanging over anyone’s head, or they would probably have mistaken some mountain-dwelling hunters as hill-folk and capture them instead…

Either way, this event has no level limit and Players of any level were allowed to take part. Even if you could not defeat high-level Lord of the Peaks’ believers, you could defeat quality with quantity by capturing many low-level Lord of the Peaks’ believers.

Moreover, the event rewards were really alluring. That was why everyone from Edward’s first-rate gang down to third-rate Players who were shaping up as a fighting force was really keen and active on this event.

That, in turn, left the Lord of the Peaks’ believers to suffer.

Although the hill-folks shared a common faith and were united enough against outside threats, they were not actually a single group, but consisted out of three greater tribes and over a dozen lesser tribes.

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“What is going on!” Kaven Mor yelled.

He was the shaman of one of the three greater tribes and was in charge of prayer rituals to the Lord of the Peaks. He also usually held the post of leadership as village head (or indeed chieftain.)

And right now, he was bellowing in rage and insecurity. “Where are the scouts? Why didn’t any of them come back?! Are they betraying the Lord of the Peaks!”

As a matter of fact, Kaven Mor had gone through great lengths to lead his lackeys to a border region where magical beasts were flourishing to enter the Valla Empire. He was convinced that he could put on a good show after receiving an oracle, only to have none of the scouts returning after sending them out to find the Promised Land mentioned by the Lord of the Peaks.

Moreover, even though he had used his sacred eyes to sense where his scouts had gone, he only received feedbacks of ‘there’s no such person’.

He had only sent them out for two days! Even if they died in such a short time, the presence of their corpses that belonged to the Lord of the Peaks would not vanish, and he should still pick up on it anyway.

“Maybe not? They are proud warriors of our village, why would they betray the Lord of the Peaks?”

Another shaman sitting beside him suggested “I could sense the presence of any believers within five hundred square mowtains (a unit hill-folk uses, with 1 mowtain being equal to 1.1 kilometers). Even if they die or only had limbs left, I should be sensing them! But there is just no reaction!”

Not only did the other shaman’s suggestion failed to calm Kaven Mor just then, it had instead left him flipping out. “What else could it be? They must have been persuaded by the Vallans with some trick to renounce their faith! Or what? Did our foes drag them beyond five-hundred square mowtains in a single day or imprison them in a building that hides them from my sensory sacred art!?”

The other shaman was unable to defend the scouts at Kaven Mor’s rant.

After all it was unlikely that the scouts were dragged beyond five-hundred squared mowtains in a single day or imprisoned in a sacred sanctuary covered in the presence of another deity.

It would make sense if the Valla military took captive of an important hill-folk like Kaven Mor himself. On the other hand, those scouts had some degree of bravery and were quick-witted, although they remain average hill-folks and not worth holding expectations over.

“Even so, I believe that it is not likely for the warriors to betray us. The heretics of Valla must have gotten their hands of some measure that corrupts will and unhinges one’s faith!” The other shaman added after some thought. “It seems that it would be meaningless to send more scouts, aside from costing us more warriors.”

“I know!” Kaven Mor felt much better inside after venting, with a glint appearing as soon as it disappeared in his eye. “It is fortunate that the oracle had shown us the general direction of the Promised Land, and it is a divine will that it is so close to my village… relay my orders. We shall all advance simultaneously down south!”

“Won’t that be reckless? We might not find the Promise Land if we keep going south anyway!” Taken aback, the other shaman quickly tried to discourage him. Kaven Mor shook his head. “The other tribes are arriving too, and if we wait, believers from other churches would reach Valla too… there’s no helping being a little reckless in other become the most accomplished child in the eyes of our lord. The Promised Land he desires must be something special that could be seen dozens of mowtains away!”

The other shaman was about to say something just then, but Kaven More beat him to it. “And even if we couldn’t find the Promised Land in the very end… We would reach the mining mountains of Meredith if we keep going south!”

He did not continue because his intention was too clear.

Aside from fame, Kaven Mor was also drooling in his desire for Illum ores, which were worth their weight in gold!

After all, in the end, the hill-folk were still robbers who enjoyed their banditry.

TN: This is the last chapter available to be translated on Original Website. We’re not sure what happened to the author (no updates since May) but do keep voting for this book anyway! Hopefully he’ll be back soon :>