120: Chapter 4 Sharoman Sacrifice (VIP Chapter 2)_1 120: Chapter 4 Sharoman Sacrifice (VIP Chapter 2)_1 “On the battlefield of a full moon night, the best warriors are from the Wolffolk, the second best are our supply and cook soldiers.”– Wolffolk “Mig” Legion motto.
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Outside the forest, a patrol of Beamon soldiers looked in surprise at this group of peculiar travelers.
The sight of an ogre pulling the cart aroused a touch of surprise even among these disciplined soldiers.
Noticing the attention of several beautiful ladies, these well-dressed, gleaming soldiers raised their curved blades in a polite salute.
These were a group of brave Wolffolk, astride mighty wolves, their mounts immaculate.
Their emblems, a wolf clutching a bolt of lightning, and the colorful ostrich tail plumage on their helmets, attested to their origin from the regular army of the Wolffolk, the “Mig Legion”.
Unlike human kingdoms, due to the scarcity of mineral resources in the Bimon Kingdom, few metal medals are awarded.
Consequently, a custom emerged where Beamon soldiers would mount a white ostrich feather on their helmets, then dye it with the blood of their enemies after an intense battle to prove their bravery.
Similarly, shamans could wear ostrich feathers on their arms as proof of valor.
The meaning of this feather decoration is unspoken.
For example, Lord Mourinho, the mentor of the beautiful snake lady Cui Beixi, has the feather of an Undying Fire Phoenix on his arm.
This alone humbles many who harbor defiance.
Then there’s Uncle Yorksha, the captain of the Bog Village militia, whose ostrich tail feather is black, not from killing terrifying humanoid black spiders or swamp black turtles, but because it’s dirtied with mud.
Looking at such a feather decoration would suggest someone looking for trouble.
These Wolffolk regular soldiers’ ostrich tails have shades of red and blue, not a single white feather to be found.
Karu, the ogre, shivered.
He noticed the gaze of several Wolffolk warriors coldly examining his thick neck.
The feathers on their heads were blue, the color of ogre blood.
“Greetings, esteemed shamans!” A heroic-looking Wolffolk officer nudged his mount, a huge wolf, to step slowly out of the ranks.
He stood stiff and straight, his hands in his pockets, giving a nod of acknowledgement to Liu Zhenhan and Helen, both cloaked in white War Shaman robes. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fıre·net
“May the War God bless you, my brave Wolffolk warrior.” Liu Zhenhan spoke kindly, like an elder.
“May I ask what brings you to the Bering Mountains?” The Wolffolk officer nodded at the others on the cart, and his mount snorted at the ogre.
“Bering Mountains?” Liu Zhenhan was taken aback.
The Wolf Clan is one of the six nobles.
Besides guarding against the threat from the human kingdom together with the fox tribe, the Bering Mountains is located on the southern flank of the wolf tribe.
The Southern Cross Star Forest is the extension of the Bering Mountains.
In other words, after almost half a month of traveling, they had taken a wrong turn.
Liu Zhenhan looked at Helen, her face now red.
“I’ve never been this far…
I’m from the countryside…” Helen mumbled.
“Obischillaci!” Liu Zhenhan slapped his forehead.
This joke had gone too far.
How did they end up on the southeastern frontier when they were heading to the southern residence of the Pier race?
“Where are you two distinguished shamans heading?” The Wolffolk officer looked curiously at the two spiritual shamans.
“We are preparing to go to the Southern Cross Star Forest to undertake a trial mission.” Helen shyly smiled at the Wolffolk officer.
“Southern Cross Star Forest?” The Wolffolk officer was taken aback and looked at the pair’s white war shaman robes, his eyes full of suspicion.
Has anyone this young been promoted to Staff Shaman?
The officer stood there stunned; the Wolffolk soldiers behind him couldn’t help whispering to each other.
“Power and rank don’t always correlate, my dear Wolffolk warrior.” Liu Zhenhan’s tone became a tad more abrupt.
He realized that this Wolffolk officer was arrogant.
After a lengthy conversation, his hands remained in his pockets, which irked Liu Zhenhan.
“Your teachings are indeed useful!” The Wolffolk officer nodded, extending a hand to point towards the extending forest.
“By the boundary of this forest, if you walk for a few more days, you should reach the central part of the Southern Cross Star Forest.
This place here is only the Bering Mountains, the standards of the magical beasts here are nowhere near as remarkable as those in the Southern Cross Star Forest.”
Liu Zhenhan and Helen were entirely captivated by his hand.
It was not a hand that belongs to a mighty Wolffolk, it was delicate, and the skin on it was desiccated and withered.
It contrasted strongly with the healthy, rosy face of the Wolffolk officer.
“A Sharoman Shaman?” Helen’s voice cracked with excitement.
Liu Zhenhan was also taken aback.
Is this the legend of the Wolf tribe?
Is this the Sharoman Shaman of the Beimon Tribe?
The Beimon tribe and the Wolf tribe share a direct blood relationship.
They are an indispensable part of the Wolf Clan.
Although they are born with disabilities — shriveled hands, the determined Beamon are the natural Shamans of the Wolffolk.
This is the only Shaman acknowledged by the Beamon without needing the temple’s trial to be certified as a qualified Shaman.