Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 1053 - 270: Solar-Class Weapon

Chapter 1053: Chapter 270: Solar-Class Weapon

The Shaman of Divine Songs had completely taken over the command of the Turun Alliance by noon the next day.

Twenty Orephin squad leaders followed Richard to the Shaman’s tent, where the Shaman of Divine Songs, as if by magic, lifted the flap of a tent, revealing rows of neatly stacked gigantic iron barrels. These massive iron barrels were so heavy that even the notoriously strong behemoths struggled to move them.

All the Piegel warriors of the Turun Alliance gaped, incredulous at the sight of these iron barrels, their tongues as dry as the sand, spontaneously licking their blistered and cracked lips-------the giant barrels had deer head-shaped spouts, typically found on malt wine barrels.

When the crystal-clear water gushed forth like a fountain from the spouts, after a moment of stunned silence, all the Piegel warriors rushed ecstatically towards the barrels, squeezing their heads in front of the spouts, even the water stains splashing onto the yellow sand were carefully gathered and caressed on their faces, relishing the coolness.

"My children, drink your fill!" Fawkes roared with laughter.

The five hundred gallon giant water barrels, a military product developed by the Emerald Arsenal to combat desert battles, had a bronze plaque on their surface with a frothing malt wine cup embossed on it, proving it the masterpiece of Gray Dwarf blacksmiths. One hundred barrels, a total storage of one hundred tons of water, was already enough to build a pool and start a bathhouse business.

General Reyes and the staff were now thoroughly convinced by the talents of the lead Shaman; although they had heard that the Feilengcui Lord was the favored child of the Northeast Province, the inherent pride in Fawkes made General Reyes express only superficial respect for this noble. This incident, where Fawkes saved his life more than once, thoroughly reinforced his hometown pride-------including a big plus from saving him once.

Fawkes was frankly unapologetic, skipping modesty altogether, he directly sat in the commander’s seat and began giving orders.

Being a commanding General had always been Fawkes’s ambition, and although inexperienced, he was eager to test it out, especially since the guards of Feilengcui’s Summer Palace needed some drilling.

The Piegel warriors of the Turun Alliance naturally had no objections, this kin was a treasure and pride of the entire Piegel race, and the usually disregarded Piegel race of the Bimon Kingdom particularly cherished such a hard-earned idol.

Although General Reyes and his staff were a bit critical, this sentiment was rationally suppressed. Since the Shaman of Divine Songs had taken his seat in the tent, a big group of burly followers, like herding ducks, brushed aside all the nearby guards. Even though letting a Shaman command from the lead seat was irregular, his rank was much higher than anyone present. More importantly, he was a fellow countryman.

The faint-hearted aspect of Fawkes’s personality made General Reyes maintain his silence in front of this ruthless, gloriously victorious, Feilengcui Lord.

After reviewing the officer list and checking the logistical supplies, the Chief Shaman finally looked up, his penetrating and inscrutable gaze, along with the three medals proving his valor on his chest, made the surrounding officers sit up straight immediately.

"General, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time..." Fawkes’s finger poked the top of the tent, with a smile that was seven parts teasing and three parts serious, he asked the General Reyes seated below him, "...Has there been a directive from above instructing you to maintain a distance between us? I ask because, even though we’ve been together in the desert for many days, we’ve hardly spoken."

General Reyes did not expect the Chief Shaman to be so direct. His face grew red and he stumbled over his words, unsure of what to say.

"General, just a little joke..." Fawkes, having guessed the answer from his expression, smiled and didn’t press further but instead turned the military map on the table around and pushed it towards General Reyes.

"...Let’s first discuss the marching plan set by the military department; I have a question for the gentlemen here," Fawkes looked at each officer, knocking on the table.

"Please speak, my lord," General Reyes asked respectfully.

"The original plan proposed by the army staff was like this: the distance between the vanguard, main, and rear corps of the entire army should maintain a separation of thirty miles, as General Pinto, the Chief of Staff, personally told me, and I believe I haven’t misunderstood; however, General Reyes, have you noticed that at thirty miles behind our vanguard, there is no trace of the Wolf Cavalry---------whether standing on the high dunes looking far out or from my aerial scouts looking down, I found that there is no middle army following us," Fawkes tapped slowly on the map, speaking leisurely, "General, perhaps I shouldn’t speculate randomly, but in fact, the entire Expeditionary Army has already fallen a significant distance behind us, and there might be some reasons we are not aware of, but I suspect it’s due to logistical delays, battling bandits, or slow deployment. However, it must be said, the marching speed of the vanguard these past few days has been quite satisfactory; walking sixty miles per day in the desert should be considered quite swift indeed."