Dawn finally arrived.
At the edge of the Faiyum Desert, the camp of the Bedouin tribe was filled with the rising smoke of cooking fires.
Omar, with a physique like an ancient War God walking from a battlefield, had dark, gleaming skin and rippling muscles, each packed with explosive power, seemingly able to tear a camel apart effortlessly.
His arms were as thick as the trunks of poplar trees in the desert, with veins running like ancient vines across them, showcasing his immense strength.
He had already taken off his shirt, revealing a bare upper body, with a broad sword hanging from his waist. A blood-red gem embedded in the hilt emitted a bloodthirsty glow.
At this moment, he was stretching his limbs at the edge of the field, accepting the flattery and cheers from his underlings.
It had to be said, this guy was even more robust than Song Heping had imagined.
