564: Chapter 118 – Always on the Edge of Struggle_3 564: Chapter 118 – Always on the Edge of Struggle_3 Liu Zhenhan donned a bespoke, black tuxedo and bow tie tailored for him by Mr.
Jabbar, the butler.
All the buttons were made of rounded, luminescent Night Pearls.
Several stunning ladies from his troupe also switched into their finest gowns.
Despite being invited thrice by the Count Totti, Liu Zhenhan still took his ti to get ready.
According to him, being the guest of honor, he should arrive last.
Before reaching the luxurious mansion of the Prince Consort, the Beamon mission encountered a slight bump.
Three thieves clad in black stole into their path to attack them.
The bolts they shot were deflected by Fat Luo who was quick as a whip with his blade.
Two of the thieves found themselves with a gift of an arrow in the back, courtesy of the archer genius, Nedved, while the remaining one had his head blown to pieces by a shot from Lord Liu’s gun.
Inside every piece of clothing worn by Lord Liu, there was a pocket designed to hold the Ancient Power Fire Gun.
Once charged with Naga’s wind magic, this gun could fire up to two thousand yards.
Liu Zhenhan’s flying daggers could not contend with the might of the Fire Gun.
Taking aim and firing bullets in quick succession, he managed to hit the target every ti, even at a distance of two hundred yards.
Count Totti’s mansion is bedecked in festive lights.
Nurous decorous servants lined up at the front door while noble carriages with various family crest symbols stood parked outside, setting a lavish tone.
As Liu Zhenhan’s group stepped through the main entrance, they were hit with a wash of warmth.
Ascending up a large spiral staircase after crossing a beautiful garden with a sundial, the delegation was led by a more orthodox butler to a spacious hall.
The stairs were flanked by statues of warriors wielding swords and adorned in ancient armour at every turn.
Nurous age-old portraits hung on the listone walls.
These portraits depicted the forefathers of the Shalba family, their faces pale yet handso in the muted tones of the artwork.
Upon reaching the third floor, Marquis Capello and Count Totti graciously greeted them, welcoming the Beamon envoys from Feilongcui into the inner chambers.
The grand hall, constructed with massive wooden louvered glasses on both sides, housed four large, elongated tables without seeming crowded.
Magic lamps illuminate the room, thrusting away any sign of darkness.
The tables were filled with distinguished guests.
As soon as the Beamon envoys entered, whispers imdiately died down with all eyes riveted towards the mysterious, almost legendary, Dragon Priest of Feilongcui.
Apparently, the prevalent perception of Beamon’s as primitive beasts took the guests by surprise when confronted with their actual refined deanor.
Most did not even have a single ring capable of competing with those of the militia, let alone the Beamon won who were so stunning that they literally took the guests’ breaths away.
Servants attentively pulled out chairs, seating Liu Zhenhan and the high-ranking officials of Feilongcui separately from the militia and Holy Knights.
The table across from Liu Zhenhan was already full of guests: noblewon holding fans over their cherry-colored lips, oozing expensive perfu, so aloof nobles, red-robed priests, Dragon Knight Gaxia they had t earlier in the day, and a few knights and warriors in opulent battle armors.
Among them were also three wizards draped in mage robes, including an unkempt, elderly mage.
Despite his aged appearance, he could not hide his strong and restrained magic power.
The tables were positioned generously apart, and the gaze Liu Zhenhan cast across the table seed to cross a vast chasm.
The gold tableware sparkled in the light.
“It is an imnse pleasure to welco the respected Beamon Envoy to the civilized world,” The middle-aged man, sitting at the head of the table, stood up, raised his glass, and greeted politely.
Liu Zhenhan was surprised to see that the man sitting at the head of the table was not Chancellor Capello but a middle-aged man with a distinctly feminine voice.
He had ticulously grood short beard, a heavily powdered face, a wig, and an ornately decorated chest, fastened with an artistically designed tulip dal.
“Good evening, respected Prince Zhang Bolun, it’s an honour to et you,” Liu Zhenhan responded, picking up the bejewelled goblet, its refracted light shimred as he swished it.
The prince looked surprised, “You know ?” He had high-quality powder on his face, so the surprise didn’t make a wrinkle or flake flicker.
Liu Zhenhan pointed to the tulip dal on his chest.
The prince laughed heartily.
“Out of respect for our esteed guest Beamon Envoy, we have already completed the pre-dinner Mass.
On behalf of the Dorott Duchy, I welco all our honored guests.
Let us drink to that.” Marquis Capello raised his glass in toast.
The banquet comnced, ushered in with golden-brown oven-roasted turkeys served to the tables.
“Lord Richard, I’m honored to introduce you to, Bishop Kaka of the Dorott Imperial Church,” Marquis Capello politely nodded to a priest dressed in a red robe and had a strip of bare scalp.
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