Lyle Sutton and the witch doctor stood dumbfounded at the side; Mason Sutton's transformation was simply too drastic—it had only taken the span of a tea's time, and he was like a whole new person.
"This... is he better already?"
Lyle couldn't quite believe it; it just seemed too incredible.
He wouldn't have been this shocked if it were an ordinary illness, but this was the plague—the terrifying plague. How could he be better just like that?
Although it wasn't a complete recovery, he was far, far better than before.
Luna Sutton nodded slightly. "This is just temporary. He'll need to drink this for two more days to be completely cured."
As she spoke, she instructed Lyle to have the beastmen distribute the water from the wooden barrel to the other infected beastmen and females in the tribe.
She also stressed that each person must get exactly one bowl—not more, not less.
