Apollo was cultivating peacefully. A satisfied smile appeared on his face as he cultivated while begging. Despite only receiving two Alm Points, he wasn't bothered. His full focus was on the ball of Qi in his dantian.
He had spent a few days revising the Revised Simple Breathing Technique, and finally, he had succeeded.
The ball of Qi was compressing, and after much trial and error, he realized he had been wrong all along. He had tried to make the ball bigger, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't budge. Then, after further attempts, he figured out the truth.
Strangely, instead of expanding the ball of Qi, he needed to compress it, making the Simple Breathing Technique suitable for the next cultivation stage.
It felt as though he was starting over, but Apollo knew the compressed Qi was becoming more potent. At the same time, he could feel his strength increasing once more.
This brought a smile to his face, and he couldn't wait to reach the next stage. Though he still wasn't familiar with the power of the Half-Step Qi Condensation Stage, he decided to focus on getting to the 1st-Step Qi Condensation Stage and then familiarize himself with his newfound strength.
However, his peaceful cultivation was interrupted when he sensed a presence in front of him.
Usually, when someone gave him Alm Points, they lingered for just a second before walking away. But this person was standing still.
Confused, Apollo opened his eyes, pocketed the bronze coins, and looked up.
"Don?" Apollo asked in surprise.
"Ah, h-hello!" The boy with shoulder-length hair bowed, flustered. Sweat dripped down his face, his chest heaving as if he had been running.
Seeing him in this state made Apollo frown. He stood up and glanced around but saw no one following the boy.
"What's wrong?" Apollo asked.
Don looked up, meeting Apollo's eyes, and couldn't help but shiver. Then, he dropped to both knees and slammed his forehead into the ground.
"Please! Mr. Cultivator, help us!" Don pleaded, his voice trembling with pain.
That must've hurt, Apollo thought, surprised by the boy's self-inflicted brutality. "Stand up and tell me what happened," he said, helping the boy to his feet.
Apollo was speechless. Don's forehead was bleeding, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. The boy sniffled, pulling back his snot. "I… I didn't have a choice. Please forgive me for disturbing you, sir."
"Don't call me sir. I'm just a beggar, and we're the same age. What do you mean you didn't have a choice? What really happened?" Apollo asked. Don was clearly in a hurry.
"We need your help. We're being forced to leave now. Some of us have already been hurt," Don explained hurriedly, his voice filled with worry. "T-they said… they said they'd kill Miss Millie, so I ran to find you."
Apollo glanced at Don's body and, sure enough, saw the bruises. But should he help them? What good would it bring him?
Seeing Apollo grow quiet, Don became anxious.
Was I too rude? I spoke to him so suddenly. Is he going to punish me too? This thought made Don grit his teeth.
"I'm sorry! I should get going now!" Don bowed again, tears splashing on the ground. He couldn't waste another second—Miss Millie's life and the others were at stake.
"Let's go," Apollo said after a moment of thought, smiling at the boy. "I'll help you."
Hearing this, Don looked up with wide eyes. "But Mr. Cultivator… If we're just going to bother you—"
"I'm your friendly neighborhood beggar! So don't worry about it!" Apollo patted the kid's shoulder before heading in the direction of Slumstreet.
Don was stunned. A beggar? Why is he acting like a beggar when he's clearly a cultivator? Cultivators were his dream—they were highly respected. They had wealth, power, and strength. But all he'd ever heard about them were bad things.
He was ready to be rejected. When he suggested asking for help from his new friend to Miss Millie a few days ago, she had warned him not to trust cultivators because no one ever knew what they were thinking.
However, the events earlier left him with no other choice.
Staring at Apollo's back with admiration and gratitude, Don clenched his fist. He hurriedly ran after him, and the two headed to Slumstreet.
The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed outside the city.
This was a street most people avoided—a place where society's unwanted were accepted with open arms.
The houses were built of the simplest materials: wood, trunks, and dirt. They looked as though they were on the verge of collapse but somehow held together.
Though rundown, this street had once been filled with laughter and joyous voices. But now, silence ruled. Some kept their heads lowered, unable to bear watching the scene unfold. Mothers clutched their children tightly as tears fell from their eyes.
A middle-aged woman collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood. Her hair was disheveled, dirt and blood smeared across her face. Her body was black and blue from the beating.
Around her, men lay on the ground, red pools forming beneath them. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly, their bodies riddled with holes and cuts from a sword.
A man in silver armor knelt down and yanked the woman's hair, lifting her into the air. As her feet dangled, the man spat on the ground. "Didn't we give you a few days to leave?! Yet you filthy scum are still here! Are you disregarding the mayor's order, huh?!"
Miss Millie stared at the captain with defeated eyes. "Pl…ease… a few… more… days…" she pleaded, but the pain wracking her body made it difficult to form the words.
The captain, with his blonde hair and brown eyes—clear signs of noble lineage—grinned at her pleading. To him, her cries for mercy were music. Ruthlessness gleamed in his eyes.
He forced Miss Millie to look at the fallen bodies around them.
"You see this? This is your fault!" he shouted.
Silver-armored soldiers stood nearby, weapons pointed at the onlookers, ready to strike down anyone who dared interfere.
Miss Millie's eyes filled with sorrow as she glanced at the dead individuals who had tried to help her. My fault… it's all my fault…
"If you had listened! Hahaha! But this is great! I've been waiting to clean up you filthy rats with my own hands, and now the time has come!" The captain's laughter rang out, echoed by his men.
Miss Millie heard nothing. She stared at the people of Slumstreet in the distance, watching her with worried expressions. Some of the men were preparing to come to her aid, but she shook her head at them.
It's my fault… if only I'd listened and not tried to protect our home… no one would've gotten hurt…
"But even if you had left, I would still have hunted you all down and killed you!" the captain shouted, his words finally piercing through to her.
"You!" Miss Millie turned her furious gaze toward him.
"What?" The silver-armored man smirked, but it faltered when she pulled a short dagger from her pocket.
"I'll kill you!" Miss Millie swung the dagger at him!