Boiling Beast Bloodline
Chapter 671 - 141 Foreign Blade Saint_2

Chapter 671: Chapter 141 Foreign Blade Saint_2

Whoever it might be, would be fearful of a super-level warcraft capable of using the "Invisibility Technique". The Moorish people on the opposite bank instantly fell into chaos. One ball of crimson mist after another erupted from the hands of the Moorish Mages, whose necks were encircled by crimson orbs, spreading into the sky. Detection spells and shields were hastily deployed.

"My lord, I’ve been standing here with my tail measured for quite some time. Shall I take a break?" The Serpent Warrior, Olajuwan, suppressed his throat and muttered to the Lord from a distance.

"Hold on a bit longer, it’s not everyday you see an eight-meter-tall warrior. If you curl up your tail, you won’t even be as tall as me, and how do you expect to deter the enemy then?" Without waiting for the response from the lord, the Whale Warrior Figo glared at Medusa with a scowl.

"Three breaths, half," Nedved, who stood behind Liu Zhenhan, slightly moved his mouth.

Only a few dozen Annihilation Magic-breaking Arrows were left in the quiver of the talented archer of the Haus Clan. His statement implied that, given the range and his archery skills, he could definitely kill half of the Moorish Mages wrapped in blood orbs in just three breaths.

Every army has its weaknesses, and the Moors are no exception. The Mages who should have been densely protected could never be able to maintain a seamless formation due to their regrettable short stature, and these Blood Elf Mages should not neglect the power of the enemy’s arbalests. They were standing in the so-called safe distance, which was laughable considering the weak physical condition of the Elf Warriors circling around them and their habit of not wearing heavy armor. If shot with an arbalest, the arrow can definitely pierce through several people.

A thousand years ago, the arbalest had not yet been invented.

Having heard the words of the Centaur archer, Liu Zhenhan was speechless. If it really came to that, how far would it deviate from his original intent? What would he do then?

Things seemed to be veering into a difficult direction. Even though the white flag had been waved, not an iota of hostility from the Moorish Army dissipated. The two Hill Dwarf Kings, who were desperately beating their drums, turned around and watched Fat Luo, who was slowly approaching, with cold eyes. One on the left, and one on the right, their colossal bodies blocked Rodman’s path.

There would be no problem for the small stature of the Blood Elf Mages to pass through the void they left, but Rodman found it a little too narrow. From the looks of the Hill Kings, it did not seem like they would make way. The Dwarves were generally physically strong, as dwarfs of a mere 1.2 meters in height could stand toe-to-toe with Taurens. Imagine the terrifying strength of the five-meter-tall Hill Dwarf Kings. Even the Mammoth Mighty Men would probably fall slightly short in comparison.

The two Hill Kings continued to furiously beat their drums, as if they were displaying their power. The deafening drum sound could suffice to make an ordinary person’s hearing drop to 90 decibels. Their eyes were filled with seething hatred, in front of which even steel would melt under the heat.

The Gray Dwarf Warriors around were hooting, seeing the silent battle. Fat Luo’s gaze passed over the faces of the Gray Dwarf Warriors around, and every dwarf warrior who was swept by his gaze involuntarily lowered their volume by an octave. When these Gray Dwarf Warriors realized their unintentionally revealed cowardice and weakness, and were preparing to recover with a louder cry, they were only met with a faint mockery on the corners of Fat Luo’s lips.

The fire in the eyes of the two Hill Kings became more turbulent, and a hostile spirit emerged. Rodman confronted their provocation head-on with heavy and powerful strides, showing no sign of timidity. Everyone noticed a small detail - this robust warrior had already picked at the handle of the two knives on his waist. The solid blade rubbing against the scabbard created a raspy sound.

A clear-eyed expression on Fat Luo’s face told everyone that whoever dared to block his way was sure to get cut by his knife.

The two Hill Kings hesitated slightly, they probably did not expect this enemy envoy carrying a white flag to be so fearless. Just during this moment of hesitation, Rodman marched past them unswervingly. The Hill Kings kept their eyes on Rodman’s knife-holding hands, their sturdy veins visibly bulging. At the moment he drew close, the two Hill Dwarf Kings finally opened a way for him.

Ahead was the staggering Blood Elf Mage, and behind was Rodman with a erect waist. Even after they had passed, the two Hill Kings were still gazing after Fat Luo, their expressions complex.

"Rodman really is a reckless blusterer!" Seeing this, even the boss on the opposite bank, who had been silently holding his breath for Fat Luo, couldn’t help but applaud.

The freed Blood Elf Mage and a majestic Moorish Elf beneath the red banner came into contact, Rodman consciously stood on the outer side. The Blood Elves spoke Elvish, which he couldn’t understand even if he leaned in to listen, hence he simply decided to avoid the commotion. Fat Luo’s small eyes were alternately wandering between the Carotid artery of the two Hill Kings, as if choosing where to make the cut, and the Strait of Gibraltar, as if choosing a perfect escape route in case of a fight.