At the beginning of the banquet, the atmosphere was a little awkward.
Drogba and the others looked at the guests sitting opposite them with strange eyes.
Having already received a notification from Brook, they knew the general identities of the orc warriors. The Hammer Clan members looked on with curiosity, but since they were not of the same race, they also felt a slight sense of rejection, and few of them spoke.
The orcs, however, had no time for anything else.
They were completely captivated by the delicious food and wine before them, devoting all their attention and energy to battling with the culinary delights.
Later, the orcs, who had never enjoyed themselves like this before, got completely drunk.
"It's so delicious! It's so good! O'Neal almost swallowed his tongue! This is Paradise! By the Beast God, may I live here forever!"
Under the influence of alcohol, it was indeed the careless and clumsy Bear O'Neal Werebear was the first to reveal his true nature.
He completely let loose, took off the helmet that covered most of his head, and slammed it to the ground. With his arms as strong as iron hoops, he simply picked up a half-ton oak barrel next to him, raised it above his head, and began to gulp it down.
The courtiers of Chambord, seeing orc faces for the first time, gasped in astonishment.
However, the Werebear's head didn't seem as ferocious as everyone imagined; instead, it had a touch of cuteness and clumsiness. O'Neal's action, coupled with his sincerity, suddenly made the Chambord Archer on the other side less hostile towards the orc.
With one person taking the lead, the other orcs, who were suffering from suppressed emotions, completely forgot about High Priest Fox's words and naturally followed suit.
Beside O'Neal, Dirk Nowitzki, the Minotaur who was also suppressing his emotions, burst into laughter, removed his cumbersome, enormous helmet, and began to drink heartily.
High Priest Nash of Fox was about to stop them when he heard a cheering chorus around him. The samurai of Chambord were also applauding the two orcs' magnanimous behavior. Suddenly realizing something, he smiled slightly and whispered a few words to his companions beside him.
Soon, the other orcs, who were still barely maintaining their composure, also removed their disguises and revealed their true faces.
"Excellent! They truly are the most generous and sincere race in legend!"
Across from him, in the audience of Chambord courtiers, Drogba, with his black hair, couldn't help but slap his thigh.
With a loud thud, the man lifted a half-ton oak barrel beside him, strode over to O'Neal, the Werebear of the Bill Clan, and laughed loudly, "Looks like a real man. Dare to have a drinking contest with me?"
"What's there to be afraid of?" O'Neal was surprised that a Human Clan could so easily lift a barrel weighing more than half a ton, clearly showing his strength. He immediately looked at Drogba with newfound respect, bulged out his biceps, which were almost as thick as Drogba's waist, laughed loudly, and stood up provocatively.
While Drogba is undoubtedly a giant of Chambord City, this comparison makes him pale in comparison, only reaching O'Neal's lower chest, a significant difference.
Without saying much, the two picked up their respective oak barrels and began to gulp down the wine.
Finally, he simply lifted the barrel above his head, opened his mouth wide, and poured it down his throat.
"Damn it, those two bastards, what a waste of my good wine!" His Majesty the King muttered to himself. At this rate, they'd probably spilled a third of the wine on themselves and the ground.
However, this is for the best; alcohol is truly a wonderful thing.
His Majesty the King would love for his scoundrels to mingle with the orc warriors.
Drogba, that scoundrel, often acts recklessly, but he's shrewd beneath his rough exterior. He must have understood His Majesty the King's intentions and was deliberately trying to use this Fara to the orcs.
Clearly, for the orcs who are used to getting straight to the point, Drogba's straightforward approach is exactly to their liking.
Amid cheers and whistles from the crowd, the drinking contest between the two burly men finally came to a conclusion.
Drogba's loss was somewhat unfair.
Because O'Neal's mouth was bigger and his throat was thicker, he was naturally a little faster at 'pouring wine,' ultimately losing by a margin of thirty seconds.
There's really nothing you can do about an inherent disadvantage.
However, by the end of the drinking session, the two equally physically strong but intellectually simple-minded guys developed a mutual respect for each other.
"Impressive! You're the first person to be able to drink with me, Old Ao!"
O'Neal patted Drogba on the shoulder.
"You're the first person to be able to drink with me and even win by a small margin."
Drogba jumped up and slapped O'Neal on the shoulder, not to be outdone.
The two met and burst into laughter.
Meanwhile, amidst the commotion, Pierce, Oleg, and others, carrying their barrels of wine, found their respective opponents and, along with Nowitzki of the Bull Minotaur Clan and Duncan of the Horse Centaur Clan, began playing drinking games and forming a friendly camaraderie.
Under the influence of alcohol, the two warriors from different races, driven by their inherently forthright nature, quickly became like-minded friends.
The atmosphere in the main hall became incredibly lively.
Sun Fei narrowed his eyes slightly, smiling like an old fox who had just stolen a chicken.
Amidst the clamor of people, clinking glasses, playing drinking games, and bursting into loud laughter...
With King Majesty the King's deliberate encouragement and Fox Priest Nash's deliberate indulgence, the banquet gradually reached its climax.
"Drinking doesn't count, let's see who's stronger!" Suddenly, some fool shouted recklessly and recklessly.
This suggestion was met with cheers and applause from the hall.
The crowd parted, and Drogba, with a thunderous roar, moved a square boulder over a meter high to the center of the hall. He then began arm wrestling with his newly acquainted best friend, the Werebear O'Neal. The Chambord and orcs formed a circle, spitting as they cheered on their respective companions.
In terms of physique and Dou Qi spirit, Bear Werebear O'Neal stronger than Drogba.
O'Neal is already at the Blazing Sun Class Peak, while Drogba is only at the Mid-Stage Full Moon Class; the difference is immeasurable.
However, this arm wrestling match was clearly based on pure physical strength.
In this way, Drogba wouldn't be at a disadvantage. Although the Bear Clan were warriors born with superhuman strength and were a whole size larger than Drogba, Drogba had taken the [ Hulk Potion ], and his acquired strength was terrifying, in no way inferior to the Grizzly.
The two players were locked in a stalemate for three rounds, and the final result nearly made the orcs' eyes pop out.
Drogba surprisingly won 2-1.
This outcome was clearly unacceptable to the beastmen, who were known for their immense strength, and they all stepped forward to challenge them.
And so began an unprecedented showdown.
Duncan of the House tribe, Ginobili Artest of the Minotaur Clan, Iverson of the Leopardman Clan...
Pierce, Oleg, Robben, Brook...
Soon, the outcome of the contest left the Orc Clan warriors feeling an unprecedented sense of defeat. Even Priest Nash of Fox, who had been secretly observing, was surprised. Several orc races, known for their immense strength, had lost more often than they won in this simple contest of strength. Were all the Chambord Archers incredibly strong?
"Brute force proves nothing." Iverson, a powerful member of the Leopardman Clan, decided to regain his dignity in a different way.
First update.
Haha, 1000 chapters in total! It wasn't easy. Thank you to every brother and sister for your unwavering support and encouragement along the way. Without you, I am nothing.