Three days ago.
Icefield City.
Located near the Polar Glacier, the city sits beneath a thick, icy canopy, enveloping the entire underwater city.
The subzero supercooled water only allows a small portion of the Sea Race to live comfortably here.
At this moment.
A beggar was begging on the street, huddled in a corner, shivering uncontrollably.
A nobleman with a stiff face approached, bent down, and dropped a few Magic Coins, kindly saying, "Come with me, and I'll teach you how to cultivate, how about it?"
The beggar touched his dirty face, looked at him, and said, "Are you a Pseudo-human? Planning to infect me?"
The nobleman displayed a slightly stiff, cold expression: "How did you know?"
The beggar replied, "It's simple, if you don't want to get beaten as a beggar, you have to observe who you can beg from and who you can't... These days, I've seen many similar Pseudo-humans passing by on the street."
"They can't tell, but I can; I grew up listening to Pseudo-human stories."
