Seeing the smirk on the small Cultivator in front of him, the fake Devil froze—his eyes widened as he realized what the annoying brat had just said.

"That can't be… You're bluffing!" the fake Devil shouted.

"See for yourself," Apollo replied, the smirk vanishing, replaced by a cold, emotionless smile.

"The Black Death Water Poison is a potent toxin! Personally handed to me by my Master! There's no way you could—"

The fake Devil didn't finish.

In the next instant, an intense aura exploded from the small Cultivator, shutting him up mid-sentence.

He had felt this presence before—when the brat first showed up. It terrified him. And then came all those Techniques—so many that he lost count. That's why he'd tried to stay calm, tried to act like he had control. It was part of the plan… in case someone strong showed up.

But clearly, his tricks failed.

The aura from the Beggar was crushing. And to the fake Devil's horror, he realized—he couldn't feel the poison anymore.

"This… this is impossible!" he said, his voice trembling in disbelief.

"Nothing is impossible when you're strong," Apollo said coolly, withdrawing his aura. "Now that you know the poison's gone… What's your choice? Run? Or tell me why you started the Monster Stampede?"

As he spoke, Apollo's eyes shifted to the ring on the scrawny man's finger.

This so-called Devil had no cultivation. Just a regular human with a witch-like face. But the ring? That was different. An Artefact—a Cultivation Treasure. It gave its wearer all kinds of tricks: flight, speed, barriers… even that poison. At least, that's what Apollo had observed so far. There might be more, but it wouldn't matter. He was certain—this fake Devil was already dead.

The man gritted his teeth. His eyes darted left and right in desperation. Then, without warning, he stood tall, spun around, and bolted.

The ring on his finger flashed black, lifting the scrawny man into the air.

Apollo let out a tired sigh as the fake Devil tried to escape, barely flying with the ring's recovering power.

"So you chose suffering," Apollo muttered.

He raised a hand toward the flying man—whose speed was comparable to a turtle's—and activated one of his Techniques: Wind Blast.

A burst of wind erupted in front of the fleeing figure.

A loud bang echoed.

The scrawny man was knocked out of the sky, tumbling until he skidded to a stop at Apollo's feet.

Staring down at the distorted face, Apollo shook his head.

"You still don't understand the situation. Let me help with that."

A wave of killing intent surged from the Beggar. It was so thick, the fake Devil could almost see his Master in Apollo's silhouette.

"M-My… Master… will find you…" the fake Devil coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.

"That's my problem," Apollo said—and then he kicked him.

The blow launched the fake Devil straight into the Wadis wall. Rocks fell. Dust rose.

As the man slid down the cracked surface, Apollo appeared in front of him again.

He grabbed the scrawny man's throat, lifting him up with one hand.

"You chose suffering," Apollo said coldly. "And I'll gladly give it to you."

"F-F*ck y—"

The words didn't finish.

Apollo's fist crushed the man's face again.

Another loud crack echoed as the scrawny head slammed into the wall, forming a deep fracture.

"I'll keep punching you," Apollo said calmly, "until you answer my question. Honestly."

He clenched his fist again.

"If you still want to suffer, I'll break every bone in your body."

And before the fake Devil could even breathe, the next punch landed.

The wall shook—bits of stone crumbling from the impact.

Apollo didn't stop.He kept punching the scrawny man until the wall began to crumble—chunks of rock and dirt falling all around them.

The ring on the fake Devil's hand flashed, trying to heal its wearer while releasing a black water barrier.But its power had clearly diminished—it couldn't last even a second under the Beggar's might.

"S-Stop…"

Apollo's fist halted mere inches from the fake Devil's face.

The scrawny man had become even uglier—eyes barely open, nose broken and crooked, cheeks swollen, and teeth missing. His entire face was drenched in blood.

"Tell me," Apollo said coldly.

Because of their height difference, the scrawny man was practically kneeling just to meet the Beggar's eye level, Apollo's hand still clutching his neck.

"I… will… tell you…" the fake Devil stuttered. "But… first… let go of—"

He didn't get to finish.

Apollo resumed punching him.

The sound of rocks collapsing mixed with the dull, repeated impact of flesh and bone echoed through the Wadis.

It was like small bombs going off.

A minute or two later, Apollo finally let go."That's for tricking me into thinking you were a real Devil. You even had the balls to poison me, f*cker."

The scrawny man landed in a heap, barely breathing, coughing up blood. Slowly, he looked up at the small Cultivator.

"You… punched me…"

"Yes. Because I was frustrated," Apollo cut him off coldly. "Anyway, if you don't want more of my fist, you'd better start talking."

The scrawny man tried to prop himself up but ended up in an awkward slump. Still, he nodded and began explaining why he had come to this place and disrupted the monster ecosystem—just to create a Monster Stampede.

…

Apollo wasn't surprised that the fake Devil started spilling the plan.

People involved with the Force of Evil didn't know what real loyalty meant.If given the chance, they'd gladly stab each other in the back to climb higher. Power was the only thing they truly respected.

Sure, they might act like obedient puppies in front of their so-called Masters, but once their backs were turned, it was all disgust and resentment.

Some might be loyal.But Apollo doubted there were many of them.

And clearly, this ugly, scrawny man in front of him wasn't one of them.

After revealing everything he knew, the fake Devil looked up with his broken, bloodied face… eyes filled with hope.

"I've… already… told you… everything… I know…"

"Hmm," Apollo put a hand under his chin, pretending to think. "Let me think about it."

As he stood there, feigning thought, his senses quietly spread out—fully focused on the scrawny man.

Sure enough, the man's eyes shifted toward his ring.

Then—In the next second, the ring let out a burst of dark light.

The fake Devil swung a fist at Apollo—fast, desperate.

But what happened next made his eyes fly wide open.

The black light vanished.

And his hand…Had been severed.It landed on the ground beside the Beggar.

"I let my guard down for a second," Apollo said, lowering his right hand, "and you tried to take advantage of it."

He didn't need a sword.Using his Simple Sword Technique, his hand became the sword.Sharper. Stronger. Deadlier than any blade.

"I—" the fake Devil tried to speak, but the pain from his severed arm overwhelmed him.He screamed.

"Annoying," Apollo muttered.

With a wave of his hand, hundreds of glass-like blades materialized in the air around the fake Devil.

Then they descended—Tearing the scrawny man into pieces.