Right now, the five chieftains of the Spirit Tribe were all on their knees before Logan.
They bowed their heads low, trembling with fear and devotion.
Ironthorn's voice shook with fanaticism. "My Lord Logan is truly the Son of Life! His incredible achievements prove his genes are superior! They must marry! They must!"
Verid was even more urgent, his flattery blatant. "I will send the most beautiful women from the tribe immediately to warm my Lord Logan's bed!"
Behind the battlefield, Logan's women watched the bowing Spirit Tribe chieftains.
Fischl looked down at them with a cold sneer. "You Spirit Tribe and Logan have reproductive isolation. Wake up from your delusions."
Verid snapped his head up, his tone absolute. "It doesn't matter! Anything is possible! If we try a thousand times, pregnancy will happen! For the Son of Life's bloodline! I will let my Lord Logan be the groom every single day!"
