Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 670 - 141 Foreign Blade Saint_1

Chapter 670: Chapter 141 Foreign Blade Saint_1

A millennium is indeed too much.------------------- the Blood Elves say.

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All eyes were wide open at this moment.

Under the support of Fat Luo, the first Moore Blood Elf Mage was stepping across the naturally formed Obsidian Sky Bridge over the Gibraltar River, heading towards a large group of Blood Elves gathered under the bloody banner.

Whether or not the battle needs to be fought again largely depends on whether this Mage of Moore is polite enough.

Fat Luo, bare-chested and robust, carried a white flag on his shoulder. Irresolute, he strode towards the army in company with the Moore Mage.

Fat Luo was not fat. He had a body of rock-like muscles and crisscrossed eye-catching scars like gnarled pine roots. A copperheaded leather waistband about a palm-wide held seven Vajra long swords. These swords were contributed by the Mammoth heavy cavalry; at least he had something to wield moments before he got to the battlefield.

The Mammoth Blade Saint had rough skin on his back, but clean as a sheet of white paper. Except for a stubble after a fresh shave, there was not a single scar.

Those who knew a bit about the Moore military should know that this enemy, carrying a white flag, never flees from an enemy with his back turned. His scars were all the result of frontal confrontation.

Going shirtless was Fat Luo’s earnest insistence, who, confident in his excellent martial arts, had even rejected the "Shield of the Death Lord" given to him by a nun on the order of the lord.

As he put it, this is a psychological warfare. Be it actual combat or not, let the opponent be daunted first.

Fat Luo proudly believed that his figure was not bad. As for those scars, over half were self-inflicted. Vain Luo, in times of peace, used to ask the cook to drip blood on his clothes when slaughtering Larza Beasts.

His idea worked wonders. Warriors as robust as him were rare both on the surface and underground, let alone decorated warriors. Usually, these type of warriors are the ones with the highest mortality on the battlefield due to the attention they draw. The majority of the Moorish Army could hardly believe that there existed a person in this world who was as tall and robust as the King of the Hill and the Difeng Giant. The closer they were to this warrior, the more the Gray Dwarf Soldiers and the Moore felt an illusion of looking up at a high mountain.

Fat Luo carried seven Vajra long swords, walking around Chollima-style among the armies. He still had a quirky smile on his face and, to look cool, had already put on gold-rimmed ink crystal glasses. Despite the coverage of his big eyes, the solemn, murderous sight, like crisscrossed blade lights, was still shooting out of the world behind the glasses onto the battlefield.

His sight was presumptuous and outrageous, like the sparks sprang out from the beating of the chopping knife on the anvil; he did not have the slightest awareness of a white flag bearer. His expression seemed like a general who had traversed the battlefield and won every battle was inspecting another incoming rival.

Liu Zhenhan, with all the soldiers, walked out of the U-shaped mountain mouth and came to the north coast

This was also a last resort in case of any failure in negotiation. Rather than defending the valley, it was better to block the bridgehead of the beehive-like stone bridge. If the battle got more intense, as a last resort Liu Zhenhan planned to use the Space Ring to hold soldiers and then flee the scene.

However, if that should happen, Liu Zhenhan’s painstaking efforts would all have been wasted.

The gray dwarf soldiers on the south coast discovered in horror that besides their old rivals, the Antelope Warriors and Difeng Giants, there were tens of opponents on the opposite side who were as strong as this enemy with the white flag. They were all uniformly robust, with long noses like arms, brave mustaches, and an arrogant and indifferent sight that was hard to forget once seen.

Behind them stood an even stronger warrior who had a fierce bald head and two whale beards hanging diagonally. Behind this stronger warrior stood an especially stronger warrior with a pair of evil triangle eyes.

When did so many god-like warriors appear on the Underground Flaming Continent?

The dwarf soldiers who advocate violence and believe in violence looked at the group of oppressive warriors at a loss, gazing at them horirfy. The soldiers sank to their hearts; various guesses emerged in a kaleidoscope manner.

Amid the atmosphere where stars are surrounding the moon, Liu Zhenhan stepped out of the crowd and stood proudly in the first row of all the soldiers, looking at the Moore under the Bloody Banner across the river. Although the light was not as intense as it was in the Flame Mountain Valley, the focus of each Moore, each Gray Dwarf, and each Cow-Eagle fell on him as he appeared. No matter how bright the night stars were, after the dawn, the brightest light was always Emperor Polo.

Liu Zhenhan’s sight was like brilliant sunshine, nourishing all things in the world. But once you tried to gaze at him, your eyes would involuntarily slip away, because he was always radiating a light that was too strong to look at.

A squadron of 40 Musketeer Aerial Cavalry rode on their Newton Giant Birds, spreading pieced-together beggar’s wings, echoing the Moore Aerial Cavalry riding on the pig-faced troll bats. Tide Lord Gerein, with huge wings of wind, disappeared into the air after a series of strange laughs.