Sparrow had accompanied Leian in training for three days and was beginning to regret it.
Every time Leian took one of his attacks, he would ponder it for a long while before allowing Sparrow to strike again.
And as the number of attacks increased, the time Leian spent thinking grew longer and longer.
On the first day, Sparrow had attacked forty-two times in exchange for four bottles of Wind-Sleep Drunk. By the second day, it had dropped to thirty-one times. Today was already more than half over, yet he had only attacked nine times.
At this rate, Sparrow felt he might not even be able to trade for a single bottle of liquor in an entire month.
He had considered backing out during that time, but the tribe was desperately short on alcohol, and after drinking these past few days, he had developed a craving for it. After much thought, he suppressed the urge to regret his decision.
He had even begun drinking sparingly, afraid that if he drank to his heart's content now, he would suffer later from having to hold back.
Leian, on the other hand, felt he had struck it rich. What were a few bottles of Wind-Sleep Drunk worth? Before coming to Hell, he had specifically refined an Interspatial Ring just to store liquor.
They said everything had its pros and cons, and that was indeed true. Though the Mosen Tribe was dangerous, without that danger, where would the pressure come from? And without that pressure, where could he find a Midgod willing to serve as a sparring partner for just a few bottles of liquor?
Before the stone house, Leian carefully recalled Sparrow's attacks.
"In terms of destructive power alone, Sparrow's attacks are about the same as mine. But by my own standards, his material