Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 1211 - 328: 3 Conditions

Chapter 1211: Chapter 328: 3 Conditions

The Mulan Commander and the Shaman of Divine Songs’ first close encounter was a scene of complete theatricality.

At the time, Commander Rommel of the Flying Camel Army was watching a wrestling match.

The Mulanese did not worship nudity, but wrestling was an exception. This change stemmed from a small desert country, Sudu, which was conquered and annexed by the Mulan Empire. The Sudanese believed that wrestling bare embodied the beauty of masculinity, and this sport was quickly accepted by the warlike Mulanese.

Two naked slaves, their hair tied up in buns, covered in olive oil like two bulls in heat, locked foreheads and intertwining their robust arms tightly together. They spun like tops on the spacious and luxurious carpet, their knotty muscles shimmering with a brassy radiance. Amidst their low roaring, the flinging of their accustomed bodies sprayed beads of sweat, scattering the scent of masculinity in all directions.

As thunderous cheers filled the room, Richard suddenly entered the grand Fulu tent; where the pearl curtain was lifted, he was met by an enormous slave hurtling towards him. A foul stench rushed at his face, and out of pure instinct, the old rogue hurled his fist forward.

With a "thump," a pig-slaughter-like scream almost lifted the entire tent as a naked strongman spun through the air, tumbling back and forth on the ground several meters away.

Richard looked at the other naked strongman and let out a chain of cold laughs. With a running start, he took a leap, spinning in mid-air to deliver a side-kick that sent the robust figure flying like a rag doll, toppling a low table and spilling its contents over a bearded warrior’s head and face.

"What a disgrace!" Richard declared righteously, sweeping his gaze around like a chastity-preaching monk.

However, his next sentence promptly unveiled his true character, "If you’re going to make a fuss, bring over a couple of pretty girls! What’s the point of two big men wrestling?"

Isco, leading the way, stood dumbfounded, holding the pearl curtain of Fulu. The tiny beads "tingled" through his fingers, sliding down as the entire tent full of a hundred people went completely silent, each person staring dumbly at this Beamon dressed like a Hedgehog, his Tower Crown and robe’s silver chains reflecting blinding light in the magnificent candle fire. On his shoulders perched a chubby Magical Beast and a plump parrot.

Maids who were pouring wine forgot to lift their slender-necked bronze kettles, as the ruddy juice overflowed from golden cups, spilling over beautifully carved walnut low tables.

Commander Rommel, dressed in a white bodysuit with two black stripes on half-sleeves resting on his arms, had a stack of face-up and face-down cards on the low table before him. He held a golden Tarot card in his hand, hesitating to place it down as his eyes caught the spirited appearance of the Beamon Shaman.

The little accident that had just occurred was not intentional, but the reactions and personality of the Shaman of Divine Songs still gave everyone an immediate insight.

The bearded warrior who was splashed with soup let out a tiger’s roar as he sprang to his feet ready to draw his sword; he was stopped by a look from the Commander.

The once raging lion instantly became a sheep; the bearded warrior respectfully bowed and stepped aside. Taking a handkerchief from a maid, he vigorously patted down his clothes, while casting fierce glares at Richard.

With a sneer at the corner of his mouth, Richard scanned the tent and appraised everyone within. Looking out into the dimly lit crowd, he found not a single bloodshot-eyed true Mulanese—an interesting observation.

"Where is the Undead Mage who shot me? Come out! Let’s shake hands."

Master Zandi sat beside the Commander, constantly rolling his eyes while the Commander, his arm resting on the low table, propped up his chiseled chin and motioned with his lips.

Undead Great Magician hesitated before standing up, and many saw his robe quiver as he approached the Beamon Shaman.

Master Zandi didn’t want it to be this way, but when he looked the Beamon straight in the eye, he couldn’t control his emotions. They were a tasteless mix, primarily fear—a deep, penetrating fear.

"You did well to injure me; you’re the first," Richard smiled as he twisted the Mage’s skinny face and patted his head.

Master Zandi was both ashamed and angry, the Bone Magic Wand in his hand creaking tightly, yet his courage failed him, and he averted his gaze from the other’s eyes. He was afraid, almost fainting with fear from the malice and ferocity in them.

"Why bother with Zandi, esteemed Beamon Dragon Shaman Richard?" the Commander clutched the Tarot card in his hands, languidly rising from his cushion.

"Ha ha..." Richard broke into a wide grin, "Although I’m disabled, I’m not deaf. How did we end up with the respectable title of ’Deaf Shaman’?"

"Sit!" The Commander smiled noncommittally and pointed to a walnut low table to his right, already set with roasted meat, grapes, and nuts—all on shining silver dishes.

Richard, far from being shy, seated himself arduously. Guoguo on his shoulder and the little parrot exaggeratedly sniffed the savory scent of spices from the meat—curiously, both creatures displayed excellent manners today.

"To honor your arrival, I have specially opened a barrel of royal cellar wine gifted by the Sultan. Servants, bring the Shaman of Divine Songs a phosphorescent cup for his wine!" Commander Rommel waved at two maids veiled in black behind him.