Arrows

Solam had no interest in Marco's thoughts, nor did he care. He was only furious that he had nearly been cuckolded! Though he trusted Loris's character, that did not mean he could accept someone trying to seduce his woman!

Solam grabbed Groot by the face and slapped his already deathly pale cheek. "Hey, hey! Wake up!"

Unfortunately, Groot had already gone into shock. As Solam slapped his face, the guy's eyes had begun rolling back. Looking at him lying there like a dead dog, Solam suddenly felt insulted.

He turned to look at Marco.

"With trash like this, who gave him the nerve to covet my woman?"

Honestly, if he were not compared with Solam, Groot was actually quite a decent man. First of all, he was good-looking. Though he was not the pretty, womanishly handsome sort, he was certainly not ugly—thick brows, large eyes, brimming with masculine vigor. With his young, strong body and wheat-colored skin, he was absolutely a killer of mature women! Not to mention that his strength was nothing to scoff at either. At such a young age, he was already a level-fifteen warrior, fully deserving to be called a promising young talent.

(In Faerûn, the age brackets for professionals and ordinary people were very different. After all, professionals naturally lived longer than ordinary people. Any professional under thirty-five could be considered young, because that was when their physical condition was at its peak and their strength improved the fastest. Thus, thirty-year-old Groot absolutely counted as young, whereas ordinary people past thirty could already be called middle-aged due to their average lifespan.)

His status was not too bad either. Though he was not a noble, a tribal chieftain was still far better than a commoner. Many noblewomen who enjoyed exotic flavors liked this sort of thing.