The gazes of the patrons turned in their direction, heavy with scorn. Don instinctively looked down, his shoulders tensing.
Apollo, on the other hand, stared coldly at the waiter who stood in front of them like a gatekeeper of pride.
This—this was one of the many downsides of being a Beggar Cultivator.
Getting denied entry, rejected by restaurants, barred from inns—he expected it. Especially in unfamiliar cities like Manida.
He had been lucky in Belthias. There was at least one restaurant that let him come and go without complaint—thanks to Filly, who knew his strength.
In this world, cultivation was currency. Power was status. If you lacked it—or looked like you did—then respect became a privilege, not a right.
Apollo could flash his cultivation level right now. If he wanted to, he could release just a portion of his real strength—enough to shake a 4th-Step Core Creation cultivator or maybe even rival a Soul Manifestation Stage.
