This is a valley surrounded by giant trees, with flat terrain and andering streams.
In the valley, dozens of shelters built with vines and large leaves are scattered, with paths and open spaces between them. Occasionally, a few palm-sized fluorescent butterflies flit by.
The air is filled with a sweet fragrance, the scent of ripe fruit.
Strawberry Goblin Tribe.
It is afternoon now, most of the tribe mbers huddle inside the shelters, avoiding the hottest part of the day.
Only a few young fairies are fetching water by the stream, occasionally engaging in low conversations, like the rustling of wind through grass leaves.
A tall figure steps out of the largest shelter in the center of the tribe.
It’s a Strawberry Goblin, but different from the ordinary tribe mbers.
He is taller, almost reaching two ters, with skin that gleams with a deep red hue, those small seeds appearing golden, sparkling in the sunlight.
He is dressed in a long robe woven from so sort of soft vine, the robe’s edges adorned with a few erald green leaves.
In his hand, he holds a magic wand taller than himself, made entirely of so dark red wood, with a fist-sized green crystal stone embedded at its top.
This is Red Crown, the tribe leader of the Strawberry Goblin Tribe, a Level 2 Peak Life Essence.
Red Crown walks slowly along the central path of the tribe, sweeping his gaze over the shelters and open spaces.
His pace is slow, like patrolling, yet like strolling.
The young tribe mbers fetching water by the stream notice him and imdiately stand straight, offering a slight bow.
Red Crown nods, says nothing, and continues forward.
He walks to the edge of the tribe and stops by a giant fern.
From here, the entire tribe can be seen.
Dozens of shelters are neatly distributed, each one with sothing drying outside its entrance.
There are dried herbs, half-woven vine baskets, and slices of unknown fruits.
Several elderly tribe mbers sit in the shadow of their shelters, weaving sothing with their dry fingers.
In the distance, three young tribe mbers practice magic in the open space, waving their respective magic wands, summoning vines to dance in the air. Occasionally, small sparks burst from the tips of the magic wands, signs of magic still unmastered.
Red Crown watches them, a complex emotion surging within.
The Strawberry Goblin Tribe has been thriving here for countless years.
His great-grandfather was the tribe leader, his grandfather was the tribe leader, his father was also the tribe leader.
When passed to him, the tribe had nearly three hundred mbers.
Now, only a little over a hundred remain.
He knows the reasons well, resources are increasingly scarce, external threats are mounting.
Those outsiders coming from other planes appear more and more frequently in the Wilderness Forest these years.
They hunt tribe mbers, plunder life essences, and sell the captured tribe mbers as commodities.
Red Crown grips his magic wand tightly.
He knows he cannot protect everyone, he is only Level 2 Peak, while among those outsiders, there are Level 3, even possibly higher existences.
But he must protect this tribe.
It is his responsibility.
"Leader."
A voice cos from behind.
Red Crown turns around and sees three figures approaching him.
They are the tribe’s three elders, Green Vine, Green Leaf, Flower Peduncle.
They are all Level 2, though not as strong as him, they are still pillars of the tribe.
Green Vine walks at the front, a vine-type fairy, slender in shape, skin deep green, face covered in fine wrinkles.
His magic wand is a piece of curved old vine, with a few withered leaves growing on the staff.
Originally, Green Vine also had his own tribe, but unfortunately later encountered outsiders, and the entire tribe was wiped out.
He could only flee in panic, watching helplessly as his tribe mbers fell one by one, were captured.
Later, he ca to the Strawberry Goblin Tribe, received an invitation from Red Crown, and settled here, assuming the elder duties.
Green Vine remains silent for a while, then says in a low voice, "The mist in the southeast is spreading again."
Red Crown’s brow furrows slightly.
The mist, a remnant of the ancient wars.
It wafts from the direction of the ancient battlefield, has been slowly spreading over these years.
Wherever the mist reaches, plants wither, animals flee, even the land turns an ashen gray.
"How much has it spread?" he asks.
"About... three kiloters," Green Vine says, "At this rate, in another twenty years, the mist will reach our hunting grounds."
Twenty years.
Red Crown remains silent for a long ti.
Twenty years seems long.
But for him, who has lived for several centuries, it’s just a snap of the fingers.
"I see," he finally says.
Green Vine says nothing more, just sighs and turns to leave.
The other two elders nod towards him and return to their respective shelters.
Red Crown continues standing in place, gazing in the direction of the tribe.
The sunset begins to slant westward, casting golden rays on the shelters woven with vines and large leaves, dyeing everything a warm orange-red.
Children’s laughter cos from so corner, crisp like wind stirring wind chis.
...
Two days later, Duke and the seven reconvene in a rock crevice three kiloters from the Strawberry Goblin Tribe.
During these two days, they did not act recklessly but instead gathered all intelligence about this Ancient Fairy Tribe.
The sky has darkened, night in the Wilderness Forest cos swiftly, once sunlight is blocked by the branches and leaves of the giant trees, darkness envelops everything within a quarter of an hour.
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