Apollo sat in a comfortable chair, with a table full of food before him. The spread included fruits he didn't recognize, water, and meat from the Scavenger.
Reaching out, he grabbed a piece of chicken. As he examined it closely, the Beggar concluded it was cooked using a simple method—over a fire. The burnt smell was typical for this method, but upon closer inspection, he noticed that the chicken was evenly cooked on all sides, which seemed impossible unless one had precise control over the temperature.
"But for those Cultivator Chefs, it's very possible," Apollo muttered, taking a big bite. After days of eating only cup noodles, he was tired of them. The meat was soft yet firm, making it easy to chew, and he swallowed it quickly. "This is really delicious. Even without using spices, it could still be served in mid to high-class restaurants."
Apollo finished his meal and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied burp. As he relaxed, he began to understand why there wasn't much effort to advance the culinary arts in this world.
If this simple Scavenger meat tastes this good, imagine the others. Besides, the Beggar suspected that what he had tasted so far was just average.
The culinary scene in this world wasn't advanced, although Apollo didn't know why. But he didn't need to dwell on it. As long as there was food on the table to fill his stomach, that was enough. Shaking his head, he grabbed some fruit to cleanse his palate.
At the same time, he glanced around the room where other Martial Students were trying to relax. Some were chatting with each other while others were watching the Mayor's boring speech on the stage.
The Beggar sighed. In the end, I still have to sit through these boring speeches. After the mountaintop was swallowed into this place, they were taken to a private room where they could watch the stage. There were dozens of rooms, each housing at least twelve Martial Students.
Now, it was a battle to determine the top places, and everyone was trying to relax as best they could before the third test began.
"Blah blah blah, you're just praising yourself," Apollo muttered, staring at the rotund Mayor 'blubbering' on stage.
"The City—my city—is becoming more prosperous as time passes. This is due to the efforts of the people, and especially me–" Klown's voice echoed everywhere.
"Ah, when is the test going to start?" Apollo was growing bored. As he leaned back in his chair, he decided to take a nap, but just as he was about to close his eyes, someone approached him, blocking the light from a glowing stone on the ceiling.
"Hey," a voice said, the tone familiar to the Beggar.
Looking up, Apollo raised an eyebrow when he saw the pretty boy Yohan had fought in the first test.
"Michael?" Apollo muttered, surprised to see the brown-haired newcomer.
"You know me?" Michael asked, his brown eyes widening slightly. But then he thought about it—he was handsome and popular, so it was only natural, wasn't it?
"Is that so," Michael couldn't help but feel disappointed. Nevertheless, he stated his purpose. "I came here to make you an offer."
"I don't accept," Apollo shook his head and closed his eyes, not bothering to hear another word from the man.
"I haven't even said anything yet!" Michael frowned. He was accompanied by his goons, who glared angrily at the half-masked man after hearing the 'disrespect.'
"How dare you talk to Michael like that?!"
"Know your place, you midget!"
Apollo opened his eyes, staring at the martial student who had called him a midget. "Say that again."
The one who said it wore glasses, his body thin and lacking much muscle. But with his chest puffed up and head held high, he smirked and repeated his words, slowly and clearly. "MID—GET!"
Apollo stood up from his seat, and with just a step, he instantly appeared in front of the beanpole, who still wore that annoying smirk. His fist was already on its way to crash into that face!
With a loud bang, the force of the wind caused the tables and chairs to shake for a moment.
The twig-like man fell on his bottom, his glasses askew, sweat appearing on his face. His lips trembled with fear, but he still managed to force a smile when he realized that Michael had managed to stop the punch from landing on him.
"Not on my watch," Michael said, his voice low and cold. His body was covered in a dark blue haze, the roar of a serpent echoing from time to time. He clutched the attacker's fist, and their standoff made their hands tremble with intensity. Feeling the strength coming from the masked man's hand, Michael was surprised, though he made sure not to show it.
If he weren't using the Great Serpent Technique, he would have definitely failed to block that punch.
"Not on your watch?" Apollo lifted his head to stare directly into Michael's eyes. "You came here to make an offer, and when I refused, you found it offensive? One of your men even insulted me."
"They are my men, that's why—" Michael couldn't finish his sentence as the thin man stood back up, pointing fingers at Apollo.
"You deserve it, you lowly piece of trash! In front of the great Michael, you are nothing but a toy to be played with! It's your honor that he's even asking you properly!" Twiggy said.
"Let me give you a lesson," Apollo said, his eyes shifting from Michael to the malnourished man. "The world doesn't belong to you."
Michael prepared for a retaliation, but what happened next surprised him. The 'masked man' in front of him suddenly turned into a puddle of water!
Realizing this, he quickly turned around, ready to shout a warning, but he was too late. The masked man's fist had already connected with the Goon of a Fool!
Teeth flew through the air along with a fountain of blood as Twiggy crashed into the wall! With another loud crash, he fell to the ground, revealing a crack in the wall.