As the green liquid entered Bel's throat, everyone held their breath—except the beggar, who was confident in its effectiveness. Apollo had been poisoned by Arke before and believed he'd endured a stronger dose than what Bel currently suffered. Yet, one drink of this basic antidote, which cost him three Alm Points, had been enough to counter it.
"Don't give us false hope, kid," Nathan warned, his gaze fixed on the beggar with a sharp glint in his eyes. "You don't want to taste our wrath."
"I'm not," Apollo replied with a smile.
"I trust Mr. Yoma, Father, so don't scare him," Filly said from the side.
"He's not scaring me at all," Apollo shrugged. "Unless I'm facing death itself."
"Big words for someone without cultivation," Nathan smirked. "I don't see any concealing artifact on you. Why call yourself a Wanderer?"