Lin Mo walked out of the tent with a smile, the afternoon sunlight falling warmly over him.
Outside the tent, the Centaur Grom and two guards stood loyally on watch.
Remembering something, Lin Mo asked Grom:
"Sir Grom, what rank is that Dwarf Commander Balin's combat strength?"
Grom dipped his head slightly in respect and said:
"My lord, he first entered the Seventh Order and became a Battle Venerable several decades ago."
Lin Mo's eyes widened.
Holy shit, that little dwarf was Seventh Order too?
"Given his strength, doesn't that mean he's only been pretending to be drunk these past two days?"
Grom shook his head.
"No. At that level, you can control whether your body accepts the effects of alcohol and maintain a degree of reason."
"If you're somewhere safe, you can relax your body and mind and experience the pleasure alcohol brings. If you're somewhere dangerous, you can quickly expel the alcohol."
Lin Mo was stunned. In the end, he could only manage two words:
"Fucking awesome."
No wonder Balin dared to come out wearing Spatial Rings on all ten fingers. With his strength, he could break out alone if he ran into danger.
In fact, it wasn't as though the Dwarf Clan hadn't considered sending Balin out alone, but with no one to watch his back, there would be too little room for error.
Many unforeseen events were impossible to predict. Balin had only just entered the Seventh Order, and the commander of the Demon Clan army besieging the Dwarves was also Seventh Order. If he tied Balin down, Balin would struggle to escape.
So they had arranged for two hundred elite troops to break out with him. Even so, they had paid a terrible price, losing many dozens of their clansmen.
If that Demon Clan commander