Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair.

Ron's worries did not seem to be unfounded. While they were discussing this matter, in the delusion land, on a path that no one had walked on for a long time, a team of fourteen people were moving forward silently like ghosts.

All twelve of them had their bodies covered in robes that looked like black mist. There were almost no additional decorations on or inside the robes. Only by peeling away the layers of disguise and peeping into their essence could one see the luxurious costumes hidden under the robes, as well as the secretly customized body ornaments.

The Dark Lord regards moderation as the only original sin, so his followers also advocate doing whatever they want, but these followers are not like that - even in this remote deep forest swamp, they use extremely simple disguises to cover up their desires.

This, of course, cannot be their true intention.

"The markings are very blurry here." A believer who looked shorter and thinner stopped. The young woman's voice coming from under the black fog was filled with confusion, bewilderment and fear. She looked at the almost indistinguishable path and saw traces of some sharp weapon on a tree. However, due to environmental factors, the arrow that should have extended from there had been worn away.

"It seems that Uncle Grant and his men must have lost contact with the cult here."

As the saying goes, "Dry for a thousand years, wet for ten thousand years, and neither dry nor wet for only half a year." Exposed in a swamp filled with poisonous miasma and rampant monsters, even the deepest marks would be difficult to survive for a long time, let alone just scratches made on a tree trunk with a dagger.

The female believer timidly looked back at the two humanoid creatures behind her, who were dressed obviously differently from them. Her lips trembled slightly, and she wanted to say something but didn't dare to show it. The gap in status between the two sides was obvious at a glance.

The two people were a man and a woman. They did not cover their faces with hoods. Above their wide dark robes were two strangely shaped bald heads. There was not a single hair on them, but there was a pitch-black dragon tattoo on them. The tattoo had its front paws open and its wings spread, as if it was protecting them under its dragon wings, or pressing down on their heads to show that life and death depended on its thoughts.

"Find."

The man and woman looked at each other and spoke at the same time. Their voices were hoarse and cold, and even the cultists of the abyss could not help but feel a chill all over their bodies after hearing them.

"Yes, as you wish..."

The cultists nodded their heads in agreement, and then quickly dispersed to look for other possible clues to guide them to the right path. The woman who had been walking in the front and a short, fat and sturdy male cultist were grouped together, slowly searching in the direction away from the two "aliens". However, this time, the male cultist was in front, and his companions followed behind.

This was not an easy task, at least for them. Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye, but they could not find anything that could be called a "mark" except for the large and small blocks of color mixed together in the environment.

It's not just this group. The situations of the six groups of cultists are pretty much the same.

If they were acting alone, there might be some interaction to liven up the atmosphere, but due to the presence of the two "overseers", the ominous atmosphere in the air became even more oppressive. As time went by, large rocks fell on everyone's hearts, making them breathless. "Mr. Suhoru..." Finally, the female believer had to speak up. She looked up at her companions who were still searching in front of her, and then secretly glanced at the two heretics who were standing there doing nothing. Dissatisfaction could not help but rise in her suppressed tone, "I don't understand why the two 'envoys' are looking for traces of Uncle Grant's past? We have clearly confirmed his current situation!"

"Why can't we disguise ourselves as merchants and sneak into Green Swamp Town to hide as the letter says?"

"Madam, your question is also my question." The short and fat believer slowly stood up, but his back quickly collapsed again. "But the envoys naturally have their considerations. Perhaps they doubt Grant's piety, so they arranged a more cautious plan. We should believe them..."

"Believe them?" The female believer bit her back teeth. "Mr. Suhoru, you would rather believe two strangers who suddenly appeared than Uncle Glenn? You have known each other for decades!"

"Do you also think he is apostate?"

"...No," Suhoru was silent for a moment, "Madam, please allow me to correct you: Ge Lan and I have been friends since we were four years old. A lifetime cannot be measured by numbers like 'dozens' or 'hundreds'."

"But this is not important, at least not to the envoy. If they think that Grant is suspicious, then he can only be suspected. This matter cannot be changed by our will..."

Suhoru sighed: "Madam, I know you have special feelings for Ge Lan, and you have had intimate interactions more than once. This is good, my lord will like it. But don't tie yourself to one person, my lord will not like this."

"From the perspective of a fellow believer, comrade, and friend of a friend, for your sake, I urge you not to think too much about it - don't forget why we embarked on this journey."

The Dark Lord Graz'zt's cult is a secret community of licentiousness, often using debauchery to conquer others. Their methods include coercion and blackmail, temptation and addiction, and black box operations. But in any case, except for the previous situation where Gran and his group were "called by the Lord", they should not dip their feet into this mud and let their bodies be stained with dirty dust.

A trace of fear flashed across the eyes of the female believer, and she subconsciously looked behind her. The two heretics did not seem to have heard their conversation, and they were still standing there motionless, neither mean nor impatient.

But these are just their appearance, or... when they are not sick.

When the two so-called "Lord Messengers" first appeared in the sight of their cult, it was at a gathering. The gathering of the Grazzt cult was certainly not a serious occasion. It was a grand banquet held in the noble manor. In the pot formed by the clouds and rain, tender or strong muscles were cooked. The souls that fell into it let out high-pitched screams, accompanied by impromptu curses and oaths all night long.

Until those two people appeared. (End of this chapter)