Boiling Beast Bloodline-Chapter 1322 - 369: Caliph Flying a Kite Patiently

In the blink of an eye, four days had passed, and this time period was rather mundane. A few minor events did occur, for example, Mourinho invited Master Aymar to Caiyu City as a guest for three days, and on a walk in the wilderness, thirty-eight Buddhist Giant men scared an ogre bandit who was knocking people unconscious into becoming a nervous wreck, among other things. Richard was too busy to pay attention to these minor matters; he was completely preoccupied with challenging Sylph, a Dream Walker.

As to whether the Twin Resonance Theory proposed by Dream Walker Sylph was true or false, and whether this Dream Walker was good or evil, Richard spent the last few days pondering these questions whenever he had spare time, but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure it out---According to Sylph, the population of the Dream Realm is ten thousand times larger than that of the Aegean Continent. With the Aegean Continent having around a hundred million people, this would mean the Dream Realm has at least one trillion. If we compare the populations of the two worlds, this would mean that even if wars broke out daily in the Dream Realm, and millions perished in each battle, on the Aegean Continent, it would only amount to several hundred deaths per day, after all, only one Dream Walker would be born out of every ten thousand individuals in the Dream Realm.

And Sylph had also said that ninety-nine percent of Dream Walkers are female!

Richard firmly believed that in any world, the likelihood of women being sent into battle to risk their lives was extremely slim. Therefore, the power of Dream Walkers to influence the Aegean Continent was truly insignificant, and the idea that Dream Walkers and Aegeanians were resonating life forms seemed theoretically plausible---It appeared that nothing in the Dream Realm could subjectively affect life on the Aegean Continent.

But all of this was just too bizarre!

Richard didn’t want to believe it, nor did he dare to, but he couldn’t help but harbor some doubt!

This feeling was simply too frustrating!

What was even more troubling was that after being entangled by such contradictory thoughts for a while, the moment he thought about this issue, his mind would immediately produce hallucinations, strange and varied.

According to the chief of the Buddhist Giants, this indicated a tendency toward split personality, with very serious consequences.

According to the Andulan elders, he was being seduced by a Succubus, with exceedingly serious consequences.

According to Lachie, this was called inner demons; in the East, countless masters who had reached a certain level of martial or magical cultivation all experienced this, with super serious consequences!

Richard asked them: If the consequences are at their worst, what would happen to me?

You’d become a madman, said the chief of the Buddhist Giants.

You’d become neurotic, said the Andulan elder.

You’d become a fucking idiot, said Lachie.

Obischillaci! Richard exclaimed.

This unlucky matter was really straining Richard’s nerves. Given his constitution, it was pretty common for him to go without sleep for a week or so – unlike others who needed sleep to replenish their energy unconsciously; he, on the other hand, remained lively and enjoyed a high-quality life... like busily cultivating the "Dual Domain Barrier" and so forth.

But Richard was neither an iron-made vajra nor a bronze-cast arhat; even a tiger needs to nap, and so did he.

In the end, he had to sleep, and when he did, he would definitely have to face Sylph again, and once more face relentless doubts – and this was precisely Richard’s most conflicting point---If what Sylph said was true, then his destiny would be tied to this delicate young woman, which was something Richard could not tolerate, it was too insecure! If Sylph was lying, why would she lie? What purpose did her lies serve? Richard didn’t know, nor could he find out, because he had no power in dreams, unable to use conventional interrogation or inflict the Bard’s cool torture, he was completely helpless against her. This kind of helplessness and weakness was intolerable for someone like Richard, who was accustomed to controlling his own fate!

Sylph once mentioned that if he got drunk, he naturally wouldn’t see her, but Richard strongly resisted choosing this way of escape; it was just too unmanly! freewёbnoνel-com

But if he didn’t do that, he couldn’t be manly either!

Richard was depressed, he was starting to confuse himself, why did he think about such profound issues for no reason? How did such murky, confusing idealist philosophy get associated with a simple man like himself?

When confusion and distress entwined to a certain degree, our rough-and-tumble Overlord came up with a solution that didn’t compromise his tough-guy identity and could solve the problem---whenever he entered the dreamland and saw Sylph again, Richard always barked: Obischillaci! Stop bothering me! I’m in a bad mood, I don’t want to talk to you, I just want to sleep!

And then he would continue to close his eyes and sleep in his dream while Sylph occasionally spoke to him, and Richard would just give her the back of his head.

This way, they reached a sort of peaceful coexistence, and it seemed Sylph also sulkily stopped talking to him, letting Richard snore away on his own.

It was a bit funny to say, but there was actually someone who continued to sleep within a dream.

When it came to hypnotizing himself, Mister Richard had his own method, far more effective than any sleeping pill, falling asleep immediately once he meditated, regardless of whether it was a dream inside a dream, as a visitor in the body.

Lachie truly admired his boss to the ground---overcoming inner demons had always been an insurmountable problem for masters in the East, with many falling into madness as a result, yet his boss had resolved it within just a few days!

Richard had just found a comfortable way to sleep when the massacre marked by red ribbons in Kalimantan City also just happened to end, not more or not less, exactly ten days.

In fact, as early as the eighth day, Richard and Prince Kahn had planned to end the massacre. The sunlight in the desert was too scorching during the day, and the city rapidly decayed and deteriorated in the heat, so quickly that it caught everyone off guard. The stench wafting through the air easily brought to mind the dreadful epidemics, and even the materials being transported reeked of an odd smell.

Jaza, the leader of the Skunk People of the Kunk Clan, heard that the lords’ ladies were worried the epidemic might spread to Feilengcui along with the plundered goods. He took the initiative to report upward: After wearing the fruit of the Thousand-leaf Nymphaea, the "Fragrance-Absorbing Red Bean," a narrow space of purified oxygen forms around one’s body, absorbing any foreign odor. With the "Fragrance-Absorbing Red Bean" worn on the body, one could absolutely avoid any epidemic scent from being inhaled through the nostrils!

The Kunk Clan’s Skunk People naturally loved to fart, emitting an incredibly foul odor, and were thus detestable to everyone. They were the only Vassal Clan in Feilengcui that wore the "Fragrance-Absorbing Red Bean," and no one else had a reason to wear this plant fruit that absorbed odd smells. Thankfully for their existence, if not for them, Richard wouldn’t have known about such a brilliant function of this plant fruit.

This discovery allowed him and the Beamon warriors to finally drag out the planned ten days of the massacre.

By the time Rommel rushed back to Kalimantan City with the Flying Camel Army, all fired up from the Maerhan expedition, the once flourishing Kalimantan City had thoroughly become a ghastly place. The sky swarmed with bald-tailed vultures, tearing at flesh detached from rotting meat, and sprinkling pus down like raindrops.

The warriors of the Flying Camel Army frantically operated steam war machines to crash into the city’s thousand-pound stone floodgates. After countless heavy blows from the Cannon Hammer, a thick cloud of dust rose, and the city gate burst open with a boom.

Was this still the "Pearl of Mulan," Kalimantan? The soldiers of the Flying Camel Army stared blankly at the city, lifeless and dead.

The previously exquisitely designed houses were gone, replaced by patches of walls and ruins, swarming with engorged green-headed flies.

The previously beautiful and tidy stone pavements were gone, now only engorged, oily maggots wriggled and bulged from their bellies, inflating like balls, "fizzing" as they naturally leaked from the rotting corpses, stretching across the streets, a thick layer of nauseating, ugly white squirming and rolling.

The previously green-branched and leafy palm trees had all their leaves glued together by a sauce-like purple substance, coated with dried and shriveled shreds of flesh.

Only the royal castle remained as resplendent as ever.

However, at the base of the East Gate’s City Wall, there was a mountain of meat teeming with writhing maggots, barely distinguishable as a pile of noses, a pile of noses cut from human bodies.

On the wall, there was a line written in fresh blood, with dragons and phoenixes dancing:

"Fire at the headquarters-------------!"

Mulanese, you’re all idiots!

Rommel, not you!

You are the ultimate super idiot!

Beside it was a drawing of a ghostly, grinning face, typical of impressionist brushwork.

Signed: Always, deeply, in love with you, Richard Shock Liu

Just a slight ten or so meters away, on the parapet of the broken, blackened royal castle, hung a long black ribbon to the ground, connected to a highly decomposed body that lay open and gutted.

When the wind blew, the black ribbon "buzzed" with the sound of hovering flies.

To anyone with clear eyes, it should be evident that this was an unfortunate person whose intestines had been pulled out and wrapped around the parapet, and then thrown down from the royal castle’s wall, tens of meters high, to the ground of the Imperial Street.

There was another line of fresh blood on this wall, written differently, clearly the doodle of another bored person:

More heartbreaking events at the East Gate, unable to resist kite-flying Caliph!

Signed: The Aegean Continent’s number one Bard, Shaquille O’Neal

Rommel blacked out, spewing fresh blood, and fell headlong from the back of his six-tusked silver elephant.

A few seconds later, a dark shadow rose from the ground, gradually taking shape from the haze.

At the exact moment Rommel collapsed to the ground, our Shaman of Divine Songs, Richard Shock Liu, had also encountered major trouble.