Pan is not an important goblin.

A sentry for the Redhook tribe, he spends most of his days sitting behind logs in the woods, arguing with his fellow sentries, and pretending that he knows how to use the spear assigned to him. Sometimes a wolf will get near the camp, and he and the rest of the sentries will throw rocks at it until it leaves. It's a peaceful life.

Considerably less peaceful is when a group of cultivators burn through his tribe, slaughtering them to the last, killing his own Chieftain in front of him. The Redhook tribe was gone and dead, without a single one still living.

A single one except Pan. They forgot about him.

All it takes is a few coincidences and a not-insignificant amount of luck, and Pan finds himself stumbling into the greater world armed with an artifact that teaches him the ways of cultivation. Not that anyone particularly cares.

All of this rests on the back of one simple fact: Goblins can't cultivate.

Right?