From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties! Chapter 191: The Moguls Meeting

The moguls in the north, south, and east ca together in neutral territory—an abandoned fortress that sat precisely at the convergence of their borders, its crumbling walls a testant to conflicts long past. The eting was rare, montous even, as these three powers typically maintained cold distances punctuated by skirmishes and political maneuvering. But circumstances had forced their hands, created a common concern that transcended petty territorial disputes.

They gathered to discuss the threat of the west—specifically, the fall of Drekk and the shocking betrayal of Vrognut. The forr had been expected eventually; Drekk’s paranoia and cruelty had made enemies of everyone, and his death was rely a matter of timing. But Vrognut’ being handed over to the humans? That was unprecedented, unthinkable for a mogul of his cunning and survival instinct.

They knew this goblin—this Byung—was a loose cannon, an unpredictable elent that had erged from nowhere to disrupt established power structures. Initially, Vrognut had been entertainnt for them, sothing to watch from safe distances with amused detachnt. Goblins occasionally produced anomalies who rose above their station before being crushed; it was the natural order. But the fact that one of their own—Vrognut, a baron they had dealt with for decades—had been turned in to humans by this creature made them question everything. Who was strong enough to accomplish such a feat against another goblin leader?

They knew the mines had been attacked by orc forces led by Kraghul, had received reports of the battle. But they knew Vrognut too well—his capabilities, his cunning, his legendary survival instincts that had kept him alive through countless conflicts. There was no way an orc would have put him in that defeated state through conventional combat. Even with the size difference favoring the orcs, Vrognut was too clever, too experienced to be beaten so thoroughly by brute force alone.

But the reports described sothing different. The sheer precision of the wounds that had weakened Vrognut, the surgical nature of his poisoning—these weren’t the work of orcish battlefield chaos. These cuts were too precise and surgical to have happened in the middle of war, too calculated to be random luck. Orc combat was brutal and overwhelming, not precise. And yet a goblin—Byung—had taken responsibility for Vrognut’s downfall, claid credit publicly for defeating and turning in a fellow baron.

"Byung," Grik muttered under his breath, the na carrying weight as his gnarled fingers tapped the table. Grik was the mogul of the east, a scarred goblin whose green skin bore the marks of countless close calls. His left eye was milky white from an old injury, and his pointed ears had chunks missing from blade strikes that had nearly killed him. His territory was the most aggressive, constantly testing boundaries.

Zikthar, mogul of the south, leaned forward with interest. His territory was wealthier, controlling trade routes and resource-rich valleys. Unlike Grik’s battle-worn appearance, Zikthar wore fine cloth wrappings and bone jewelry that spoke of prosperity. His skin was a lighter shade of green, almost olive, and his fingers were adorned with rings plundered from various conquests.

"This goblin," he said slowly, his voice smooth and calculating. "We dismissed him too quickly. The intelligence reports are... concerning."

Ragnik, mogul of the north, grunted agreent. His territory was harsh—mountains and difficult terrain that bred the most cunning survivors. He was older than the others, his green skin weathered and wrinkled, hair gone gray at the temples. Despite his age, his yellow eyes remained sharp, constantly calculating.

"Concerning is putting it mildly. A goblin shouldn’t be capable of what he’s accomplished against one of us. He’s making us all look incompetent by comparison."

"Let’s review what we know," Grik said, pulling out various reports compiled by scouts and spies with his crooked fingers.

"This Byung erged a few months ago from obscurity. He survived an encounter with Kraghul—an orc warrior that crushed him—and apparently Byung ca back to life. That alone should be impossible for any goblin, regardless of skill."

"Then there’s what he did to Vrognut," Zikthar added, his nimble fingers shuffling through papers. "One of us. A baron who’s survived for decades through cunning and ruthlessness. Yet sohow Byung not only defeated him but cut off his limbs so precisely that Vrognut was left helpless. Then turned him over to the humans like he was nothing more than tribute."

"The disrespect alone is staggering," Ragnik muttered, his wrinkled face dark with anger. "To treat a fellow baron that way... it’s an insult to all of us."

"It’s more than insult," Grik said sharply. "It’s a demonstration of capability. Vrognut wasn’t defeated through luck—those wounds were surgical, calculated. The poison was administered with precision that suggests knowledge of anatomy and chemistry beyond what any goblin should possess."

"Then there’s the technology," Zikthar continued. "Weapons beyond what goblins normally possess. Organization that actually functions. Structures that don’t collapse within weeks. He’s built a functioning civilization in the ti it takes most goblin camps to collapse from infighting. My spies say his goblins actually follow orders consistently—consistently!"

Ragnik’s yellowed eyes narrowed. "And now the Stonehide tribe. That’s what truly concerns . The Chieftess doesn’t ally with anyone—certainly not with goblins. We’re beneath her notice normally. Yet sohow this Byung convinced her to bring her entire tribe down from the mountain to his settlent."

The revelation hung in the air, each mogul processing the implications. The Stonehide were legendary—small in number but individually so powerful that their dozen warriors could influence entire regional conflicts ever since the Chieftess took over. Their Chieftess was untouchable, having killed anyone who presud familiarity.

"How did he manage it?" Zikthar wondered aloud, his rings clicking together as he gestured. "What could a goblin possibly offer the Stonehide that would make them relocate? We’ve all tried to court orc alliances—they laugh at us or threaten us."

"Perhaps he didn’t offer anything," Grik suggested darkly, his milky eye seeming to stare through the table. "Perhaps he defeated her sohow. Earned her respect through combat the way orcs respect."

"A goblin defeating the Chieftess?" Ragnik scoffed, his wrinkled face contorting with disbelief. "That’s absurd. She could crush dozens of us without breaking stride."

"So was defeating Vrognut," Zikthar pointed out sharply, leaning back in his chair. "So was surviving Kraghul. So was creating the first successful birth with no fatality—yes, I’ve heard those reports too. This goblin is rewriting what we thought possible for our kind."

That particular detail made all three pause. The goblin curse was ancient, immutable, a fact of nature that had persisted for as long as any goblin could rember. Every one of them knew: pregnancy ant death for the mother. It was why goblins were dood to remain weak, scattered, constantly raiding for females of other species. Yet intelligence suggested that a hybrid child had been born on Byung’s territory—orc mother, goblin father—and both mother and child survived. Not only survived, but thrived.

"If he can break the curse," Ragnik said slowly, his aged voice carrying the weight of implications, "if he can create a hybrid race that combines orc strength with goblin numbers and cunning..."

"Then we’re looking at sothing that could make our territories obsolete," Grik finished grimly, his scarred face darker. "Why would goblins follow us when they could follow him? Why settle for scraping by when he promises evolution and prosperity?"

"Let’s not panic prematurely," Zikthar cautioned, though his expression suggested his own deep concern. His rings clicked nervously. "One successful birth doesn’t an the curse is truly broken. It could be anomaly, lucky chance, a fluke."

"And if it’s not chance?" Grik challenged, his good eye boring into Zikthar.

"What if this Byung has discovered sothing, evolved into sothing that fundantally changes what goblins can beco? The reports say he died during Kraghul’s assault—multiple witnesses confird it—then ca back to life transford. Taller than any goblin, stronger, faster, smarter. How does one even counter that kind of power?"

The Moguls had no idea how they were going to deal with Byung but Grik noticed sothing strange, Ragnik wasn’t speaking as much as he should, almost like he was keeping sothing away from them that they should know.

At the end of the day, they had to recognize and respect all he has done, he has earned his place as the final Mogul but there was a test he had to pass.