At the beginning of the banquet, the atmosphere was a little cold.

Drogba and the other hammers looked at the guests sitting opposite them with strange eyes.

I had already received a notice from Brooke before, and I generally knew the identities of the orc powerhouses, and the hammer gate looked at him with curiosity, after all, he was not of the same race, and there was a slight rejection in his heart, and few people spoke.

And the orcs don't care about anything else.

They were completely overwhelmed by the delicious food and wine in front of them, and put all their thoughts and energy into wrestling with the food.

Later, the orcs, who had never enjoyed it so much, were completely drunk.

"It's so delicious, it's so delicious, O'Neill is about to swallow his tongue, this is really heaven, the beast god is above, let me live here forever!"

Under the influence of alcohol, it was indeed the rough-leaved Bill Bear man O'Neill who was the first to expose his true nature.

He let go completely, took off the helmet that covered most of his head, put it on the ground with a bang, and with his arms like iron hoops, he simply picked up an oak barrel weighing half a ton beside him, held it high above his head, and drank it directly.

The retainers of Chambord, who saw the face of an orc for the first time, let out a burst of exclamation.

However, the bear man's head does not seem to be as vicious and vicious as everyone imagined, but with a bit of cuteness and naivety, O'Neill's action, accompanied by the frankness, so that the Chambord man on the opposite side suddenly did not have such a serious rejection of the orcs.

Someone took the lead, and the other suppressed orcs who worked very hard threw the words of High Priest Fox out of the clouds, and naturally did the same.

By O'Neill's side, Novitsky, a minotaur who was also depressed and very hard, laughed, and also took off his huge helmet that was in the way, and drank bitterly.

The High Priest of Fox Nash originally wanted to stop it, but he heard a good cheer in his ears, and the Chambord warriors also applauded the bold style of the two orcs, and suddenly realized something, smiled slightly, and bowed his head to say something to the other companions next to him.

Soon, the other orcs who were barely reserved also lifted their disguises and revealed their true colors.

"Okay, it's really the most bold and sincere race in the legend!"

On the opposite side of the Chambord courtiers, the black-haired Drogba couldn't help but pat his thigh.

The mallet roared and picked up the half-ton oak barrel beside him, and walked to O'Neill, the bear man of the Bill tribe, and laughed: "You look like a good man, do you dare to fight with me?"

"Why don't you dare?" O'Neill didn't expect that a human race could carry a barrel weighing half a ton at will, obviously with a lot of strength, and suddenly glanced at Drogba, puffed out his biceps muscles, which were almost as thick as Drogba's waist, laughed, and stood up defiantly.

To say that Drogba is definitely a giant of Chambord City, but this comparison is a bit dwarfed, and it is much worse when it comes to O'Neill's lower chest.

The two of them didn't say much, picked up their oak barrels, and drank them.

In the end, he simply lifted the barrel above his head, opened his mouth wide, and poured it into his stomach.

"Paralyzed, two bastards, what a waste of Lao Tzu's good wine!" muttered to His Majesty the King, "I'm afraid that a third of the wine will be poured on their bodies and on the ground, right?"

Still, it's okay, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

His Majesty wishes that these bastards under his account would mingle with the orc powerhouses.

Drogba, a bastard, often makes mistakes, but the reason why he does this must be because he understands His Majesty's intentions, and intends to close the distance between him and the orcs in this way.

Obviously, for the orcs who are used to going straight to the point, Drogba's straightforward approach is really to their taste.

In the midst of everyone's cheers and whistles, the two strong men's drinking finally decided the winner.

Drogba lost a bit unjustly.

Because O'Neill's mouth was bigger than his and his throat was thicker than his, the speed of 'pouring wine' was naturally slightly faster than his, and he finally lost by a gap of thirty seconds late.

Congenital disadvantage, this is really no way.

However, at the end of the drink, the two guys who also have well-developed limbs and simple brains have a feeling of sympathy.

"Amazing, you can fight with my old Ao, you are the first!"

O'Neill patted Drogba on the shoulder.

"You won a little bit by being able to fight with me, and you were the first one. ”

Drogba jumped up without showing weakness and reached O'Neill's shoulder and patted him back.

The two met and laughed.

At the same time, in the midst of the uproar, Pierce, Oleg and others also found their respective opponents with wine barrels, and Novisky of the Boer Minotaur Clan, Duncan of the House Centaur Clan and others, guessed the fist and reached a deal.

Under the influence of alcohol, the warriors of two different races, because of their bold nature, soon became friends with similar smells.

The atmosphere in the hall was completely hot.

Sun Fei narrowed his eyes slightly, smiling like an old fox stealing chickens.

The figures are noisy, staggered, guessing the boxing order, and laughing loudly......

Under the deliberate push of His Majesty the King and the deliberate indulgence of Nash, the High Priest of Fox, the banquet gradually led to **.

"Drinking doesn't count, it's kind of compared to me. "Suddenly, a fool was wandering, shouting unknowingly.

This proposal caused a burst of applause and applause from the main hall.

The crowd parted, only to see Drogba roar, moving a square boulder more than one meter high in the center of the main hall, and unexpectedly began to wrestle with his new good friend O'Neill, the bear, and the Chambord warriors and orcs gathered in a circle, spitting and cheering for their respective companions.

In terms of physique and fighting strength, O'Neal the Bill the Bear is stronger than Drogba.

O'Neill is already at the peak level of the scorching sun level, and Drogba is only at the middle level of the full moon level, and the difference cannot be counted in the Daoli.

However, this wrist wrestling was clearly relying on pure physical strength.

In this way, Drogba will not suffer a loss, although the Bill Bear Clan is a warrior with natural divine power, and his physique is a whole circle larger than Drogba, but Drogba has taken the [Hulk Potion], and the acquired strength is terrifying, not inferior to the giant bear.

The two of them held each other for three rounds, and the final result made the orcs almost burst their eyes.

Drogba won 2-1.

Such a result is obviously difficult for the orcs, who have always been known for their infinite strength, to accept, and they have stood up to challenge.

A unique duel began like this.

Duncan of House, Ginobili and Artest of the Minotaurs, and Iverson of the Leopards......

Pierce, Oleg, Robben, Brooke......

Soon, the result of the contest made the orc warriors feel unprecedented frustration, and even the Fox priest Nash, who had been quietly watching secretly, was surprised, several orc races that have always been known for their great strength actually lost more than they won in this simple wrestling, are all Chambord people Hercules?

"Brute force doesn't mean anything. "Iverson, the strong man of the Leopard Race, decided to use another method to save face.

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The first update.

Haha, a total of 1000 chapters, it's not easy, along the way, thank you for the support and encouragement of every brother and sister, without you, I am nothing.