Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God-Chapter 54 - 51 Deterrence Please Follow_1

54: Chapter 51: Deterrence (Please Follow)_1

54: Chapter 51: Deterrence (Please Follow)_1

When the troll was killed by the Half-Ogre’s roar, Gaven distinctly felt an invisible warm current infusing his body, this was the Magic Laws.

Although most of the Magic Laws were taken away by Hou, Gaven’s Professional Level was low, requiring less Magic Laws for promotion, and even a small fraction made a clear difference.

If such a situation arose a couple more times, Gaven would level up.

Having activated his career template just a short three months ago, such a pace of advancement was astonishing.

“Hou!” The Half-Ogre roared once again and swung the bloody, Nodular Gnarled Club down towards Gaven.

“Move further away.” Gaven kicked Gos away with a foot while avoiding Hou’s Attack, and sneered, “What now, turning against me after activating your career template?

Don’t forget what you rely on to kill a troll.

Mere strength is useless, the precondition is that you can hit the enemy, too slow, still too slow, can you be any faster?”

Despite his scornful attitude, Gaven’s nerves were on edge.

Barbarian could be regarded as one of the most suitable choices for a Half-Ogre’s natural occupation.

The Special Ability Fast Movement increased his movement speed by a third.

Even though this Special Ability didn’t increase attack speed like the Acceleration Spell, the mere improvement in movement speed, along with the significant increase in strength and constitution from going Berserk, also enhanced his burst power.

The tailor-made Nodular Gnarled Club, being incredibly handy, slightly increased his attack speed as well.

Add to that the growth Hou, the Half-Ogre, had undergone over the past ten days, and combining these factors, his fearsomeness was incomparable to when they first met.

The only silver lining was that Gaven had a thorough understanding of the Half-Ogre’s attack habits and routines, which made dodging a relatively easier task.

Even so, it turned into a literal dance on knife’s edge, with several close calls by a hair’s breadth.

Gaven merely focused on evading as much as possible, luring the Half-Ogre into attacking, with very few counterattacks.

He was waiting for the Barbarian’s Berserk state to end.

The freshly advanced Professional Level of the Half-Ogre Hou couldn’t sustain such a state for long.

Not half a minute later, Hou started to wilt, looking extremely weary, his attack frequency slowed, and his movement speed faltered.

The roles of offense and defense were quickly reversed, and Gaven’s One-Handed Sword rained down on the Half-Ogre like a storm, each thrust aiming at vital points, and it didn’t take long to leave Hou covered in bleeding wounds.

“Stop, stop…

I surrender…

I surrender…

I didn’t mean to attack the lord before…

I couldn’t control myself…

It won’t happen again…

It will never happen again…”

At this moment, Hou, the Half-Ogre, had lost all his earlier arrogance, only daring to cringe and dodge, not daring to strike back, constantly begging for mercy.

“Can’t control yourself?

I think you just overestimate your abilities, thinking you have the power to take me down,” Gaven snorted angrily, the sword in his hand not showing the slightest intention of stopping—such behavior had to be nipped in the bud, to teach him an unforgettable lesson so that he wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on him in the future, even when in a Berserk state.

“No, absolutely not…

I will gain control…

Next time I will definitely control it…” Hou, the Half-Ogre, hastily promised.

“Look at me,” Gaven suddenly halted his offensive and shouted.

“Okay…” Hou, puzzled, huddled and looked down at Gaven.

Deep blue light seemed to overflow from Gaven’s eyes.

Boom!

Hou felt an invisible heavy hammer strike his head, and with a howl, he clutched his head and wailed.

Not right.

His head had been hammered before.

But that sensation was nothing compared to the current one.

It felt like his brain was going to explode, with blood and brain matter about to spurt out.

This sensation lasted for several seconds before it slowly faded away.

The Half-Ogre Roar stood up again and the way he looked at Gaven had changed, carrying a deep-seated fear that stemmed from his bones.

It seemed his choice was correct.

For a brute like this, it was necessary to strike at the spirit.

He should have used “Psychic Blast” on this fellow much earlier.

“Since good and bad cancel each other out, the beer I had originally planned to reward you with tonight is cancelled,” Gaven said as he simultaneously deployed his triple punishment measures: physical, mental, and material.

“What?!” This punishment, for the Half-Ogre Roar, was even more severe than the physical pain, second only to the Psychic Attack he had just endured.

Curling up, he appeared as aggrieved as a bullied young wife, not daring to raise any objections.

Gaven no longer paid attention to the Half-Ogre Roar and headed for the Goblin Camp.

The so-called Goblin Camp was actually a crudely constructed wattle fence, twisted and ramshackle, very much in the makeshift style of Goblins.

“What are you trying to do…

Don’t come over here…”

Behind the wattle fence, the tremulous and shrill screams continued.

Just a moment ago, they had witnessed their new Guardian Troll getting aggressively slain by the Half-Ogre Roar.

The next moment, they saw the once powerful and invincible Half-Ogre being disciplined by Gaven like a grandchild.

At this moment, Gaven, who didn’t seem particularly strong to them, was like a demon enveloped in a malevolent aura, even taller and more terrifying than the Half-Ogre.

Gaven stopped about ten meters from the Goblin Camp and announced, “Tribute, three times the tribute.”

“Three times the tribute?

Why not just kill us?”

“No, we don’t have that much to give.”

More clamorous cries from the Goblins ensued.

“Three times the tribute, not a bit less.

You have two choices: either bring it out yourselves or we will come in and take it,” Gaven shouted loudly, “Roar.”

“My lord, what are your commands?” The Half-Ogre approached with a hurried jog, bending half over, and his obsequious expression was at least eighty percent similar to that of Gos.

“Stand up straight, chest out,” Gaven scolded, “Don’t imitate Gos’s antics.

Just obey my orders.”

“Yes, my lord,” the Half-Ogre sucked in his stomach and puffed out his chest.

“Count to a hundred.

If they don’t bring out the tribute, smash down their gate and charge in.”

“No need for the hassle, I can charge in right now,” the Half-Ogre said with a fierce grin, his confidence having soared after slaying the Troll.

As for the setback at the hands of Gaven, he didn’t take it to heart at all.

To be more precise, he was accustomed to it now, considering it an anomaly.

“Hmm?” Gaven hummed disapprovingly.

He had his own plans for instructing the Half-Ogre to act this way.

The strength of the Blackwell Gnolls was still limited, and one Blackwell Mine was enough for them to exploit for the time being – there was no immediate need for expansion.

He also didn’t want to waste more energy on these Goblins.

The best method was to drive their enthusiasm to the fullest through threats and exploitation, making them generate surplus value.

When Gaven’s deep blue eyes fell upon him, the Half-Ogre shivered and promptly said, “Count, count, I’ll start counting right away, one…

two… freeweɓnovel.cѳm

three…”

“No need to count anymore, no need to count, we’re ready to pay tribute, we’re willing to pay…”

Very quickly, the Goblin Camp gates were pushed open, and several Goblins came out, pushing and shoving each other out.