"Quick, quick, quick! Bring Little Apophis the finest food and wine!" Old Leo said without ceremony, already digging in as he stared at the fragrant bread before him.
"Mm! Damn it! I spent years on the run, eating nothing but jerky and roasted field mice every day! Catching a fish in a pond on the grasslands once in a while felt like celebrating the Dragon God Festival!" Old Leo sighed. How could he have had time for decent food when he spent every day outwitting those bastards? On top of that, the Orc tribes in the wastelands were poorer than ghosts. Old Leo could hardly seize any useful food from them at all; finding enough to fill his stomach was already the best he could manage.
"You were only just injured. Maybe you shouldn't drink?" Apophis Breo hesitated.
"Bullshit! How was this old man supposed to survive without wine? It was all thanks to that liquor that I made it back from the north!" Old Leo snapped. Though the Orcs did not have much edible food, surprisingly, they had quite a bit of alcohol. Their crude potato liquor was harsh and pungent, but in the freezing Northern Wastes, it truly could warm a person's body.
"Good grief... It's a miracle that stuff didn't drink you to death!" Apophis Breo's eye twitched. If you had died, the Junlin Family ancestors underground would probably have smashed their heads bloody kowtowing to the Dragon God! You were afflicted with a Death Curse, yet you dared drink cheap liquor all the way through the Ice and Snow Domain. Fine, fine, fine! If there was no one like you among Lagrange's madmen, I wouldn't believe it!
"I'm blessed with great fortune! By the way, who's the king in the royal family now?" Old Leo spat