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"For survival!"
Thick Earth raised his non-alcoholic pineapple beer in one hand and a lamb skewer in the other. "Cheers, bro!" he shouted.
He had initially planned on draft beer, but with the great fight looming, War Tiger had forbidden everyone from drinking alcohol—himself excluded. Alcohol affected him as much as water; his tolerance was on another level.
"Old Earth!" War Tiger plopped down next to him, a can of beer in hand and a toothpick in his mouth. He looked satiated from the food and drink he'd had. "You're bold, man. You dared to use the Qilin Guild's rally here?"
"Haha, my damn mouth." Thick Earth slapped his own face. "I was just in the mood to shout something! Couldn't think of anything else, only the phrase we chanted...
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