Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 608 - 129: A Few Drops of Blood is the Death of a Country’s Tears, Half Moon Symbolizes the Old Minister’s Heart_2

Chapter 608: Chapter 129: A Few Drops of Blood is the Death of a Country’s Tears, Half Moon Symbolizes the Old Minister’s Heart_2

Upon hearing what the innkeeper said, Nedved immediately drew his longbow, stringing an arrow in anticipation of the Dark Elf.

"Dark Elves are wicked and brutal, but it wouldn’t hurt to prioritize saving these Goliaths first," Ruona echoed.

Liu was slightly hesitant, and the battle between the Harpies and the Dark Elves took another odd turn. The flying Harpies, helpless against this Dark Elf, swiftly broke off into a group of five. With a strident screech, they threw their spears at the crouched diminutive natives; dull thuds echoed as multiple natives fell to the ground. A native woman on the outskirts of the crowd, cradling an infant, was hit by a spear in the shoulder; unable to hold on, she let the swaddled child slip from her grasp. A Harpy rushed in with a low swoop, stirring up a gust of wind, grabbed the animal-skin-wrapped swaddle, swiftly ascended, and flung the crying baby into the sky.

The Dark Elf, besieged by a swarm of Harpies, rolled to evade a spear only to see the baby soaring into the sky. His complexion changed drastically. He discarded the curved blade in his right hand and drew a snake whip from his back. The whip, five meters long, managed to ensnare the rapidly descending baby just before he would have hit a stalagmite. He pulled the swaddle into his arms, but wasn’t able to dodge an incoming spear, which grazed his cheek, causing blood to spray out.

All Beamon seeing this scene were dumbfounded. Had the world turned upside down? Were not the Beamons the raiders and the malevolent Dark Elves the saviors instead?

"Take down the Harpies, I want them alive." Liu abruptly stood up from the driver’s bench of the carriage and pointed forward with his whip.

The Panda warriors and Nedved promptly charged forward. Lance and arrow intertwined in the sky creating a hazardous track of random signs. The Harpies, caught off guard, were shot down one after another. Those trying to escape also failed, as Nedved shot their wings while moving with one arrow after another. Nedved’s "Belt of the Giant Beast," made from the hide of a faceless giant beast, wasn’t merely ornamental. Each arrow he shot contained icy energy which would freeze the wounds upon impact; even without this magical enhancement, his archery skills guaranteed that none of his arrows would miss their mark.

Gude and his Panda warriors opted to use their lance butts instead of the sharpened spearheads, preferring to refurbish rather than impale. Still, the Harpies fell from the sky, a rain of feathers and gory blood, and the volcanic ash beneath was scattered everywhere.

The Dark Elf held the swaddle, standing proudly in the cloud of dust, his gaze steady and composed.

General Pan’s tower-like figure blocked the Dark Elf’s view: both men locked eyes, one hand of the Dark Elf held a curved blade, the other held a snake whip, and his arms cradled the swaddle.

Liu drove the carriage over creaking and rocking, but when he saw the stature of the Banilou Warriors and the mammoth Hercules, the Dark Elf merely blinked without a trace of fear.

"Elf, drop your weapons," Gude called out in a booming voice using Aegean Common Language.

"And who might you be?" The Dark Elf responded in a casual tone. He spoke the Aegean Common Language, spread around the world by Goblin traders, so perfectly that he could have been a broadcaster.

"We are Beamons." Liu reined in the two Multi-footed giant horses pulling his carriage, politely acknowledging the Dark Elf.

"Beamon..." The Dark Elf’s eyes lit up, and he sauntered towards Liu before asking, "Are you the Beamons from the Surface World?"

Two swift flashes of blades finished in an instant, two hard alloy long knives landed in front of the Dark Elf’s feet. The knives, almost taller than the Dark Elf, shimmered with a cold light.

"Toss your weapons." Fat Luo’s long hair rested on his shoulder, half-body turned to one side, his hand gripping the hilt of his long knife. He struck a pose that seemed to hint at a long-simmering array of cool combat moves before growling.

Clasping the knife in a crisscrossing manner, one grasping the handle and the other holding it in reverse, was a distinctive style attributed to a master swordsman, which is not how Luo usually held his knives.

The Dark Elf, also a skilled swordsman, instantly weighed the giant man before him. However, he didn’t seem to have any intention to comply. His fearless gaze met Fat Luo’s eyes. "Only a dead warrior would let go of his weapon!"

Fat Luo was slightly stunned, puzzled, hadn’t the Dark Elves always been depicted as the most cunning and deceitful of all Elves? Where did this blockhead come from?

"This guy has guts. Don’t make it hard for him." Liu chuckled dryly, then flipped off the carriage in a swaggering manner. He almost landed in a pit and nearly broke his coccyx.

"Damn it!" Liu’s face turned bright red. But because the light wasn’t too bright, his embarrassment wasn’t too visible.

"The Beamons aren’t the only ones with bravery." The Dark Elf slighted, showing a small smile. Liu gestured for his militia to retreat to the sideline and proceeded to examine the Dark Elf from head to toe. He noticed the dark Elf’s white teeth and handsome face, thinking that were they to be put on a matchmaking display, they would undoubtedly enamor many despite their pitch-black tone.