After teaching each of his disciples the Essence of Fighting through the Essence Transferring Technique, Apollo went on to impart one more gift—a revised version of the Simple Breathing Technique. With this alone, they could reach the 4th Step of the Qi Condensation Stage on their own.

If they were hardworking and determined enough, they might even reach the Core Creation Stage.

At least… that was his hope.

Apollo didn't give them any other techniques beyond the Simple Breathing Technique and the Essence of Fighting.

They didn't need anything more.

The Breathing Technique, although originally simple, had been rewritten—transformed by Apollo into something that could rival the core cultivation methods of the great sects. And the Essence of Fighting? It wasn't just a martial technique—it was a compilation. It contained all the battle arts he had learned in his past life and in this world.

And after revising it for Don, it had become even stronger.

Don received the new version, and his fighting prowess rose by a level.

Apollo now stood quietly, watching his disciples seated cross-legged, eyes closed, slowly drawing in the surrounding Qi. Their breathing was calm. Their expressions serene.

A smile tugged at his lips.

"This is great," Apollo muttered, his eyes shifting toward the training stage.

There, Don was moving.

Fire, wind, and water erupted with every strike of his fists.

Don's face was lit with pure excitement, pushing the Essence of Fighting to its limits, showcasing everything he had learned.

Before, the technique was crude—too basic, too unrefined to even be called a real martial technique. But now? With Apollo's improvements, Don only had to think of the element he wanted—whether fire, wind, or water—and his attacks would respond. They exploded with force.

Apollo nodded, pleased with the results. Don was performing the technique smoothly, using elemental arts like Fire Blast, Wind Blast, and Water Blade Disintegration. These were techniques Apollo had personally blended into the Essence of Fighting.

Thanks to the Essence Transferring Technique—a method Apollo still considered absurdly overpowered—Don could wield the Essence of Fighting as if he'd been trained in it since birth.

As Apollo watched, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Mr. Yoma… I've never seen anything like this before," Filly said, eyes wide with awe. Her gaze swept across the disciples who were already cultivating mere moments after receiving their techniques. "They didn't even need scrolls. They just… knew. Is that something you did?"

Gail, standing beside her, glanced at Filly with concern. It was improper—even risky—to question someone so powerful about their techniques. But she couldn't help looking toward Apollo, silently hoping he wouldn't be offended.

Apollo didn't mind.

"Essence Transferring Technique," he replied casually. "That's the name of the method I used to teach them."

There was no fear of others learning it.

Because he knew—he was the only one who could do it.

"That's… that's a very profound technique," Filly said, stunned.

Gail nodded slowly, her tone turning reverent. "To do that… you would need incredible control over your Qi. And your understanding of the technique must be absolute. Not just memorized—but lived. It must become as natural as breathing."

Apollo smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. "More or less."

In truth, to replicate what he had done, one needed a level of comprehension beyond mastery. The technique had to become an instinct—a second nature. Not just something practiced, but something embodied, the way one breathes without thought, or how blood flows through the body.

His understanding of his techniques had reached a realm where they felt like extensions of his limbs—no different than how sword cultivators saw their blades as part of themselves.

And beyond that…

One needed the Essence Transferring Technique itself.

A technique that didn't rely on Qi alone—but on a level of control that surpassed the imagination of even the greatest cultivators.

You couldn't just force a Technique into someone's mind. If you tried, their brain would explode—literally. For any Cultivator attempting to mimic how Apollo taught his disciples, it wasn't enough to know the technique. They'd also have to understand their disciples' minds.

And that was only scratching the surface.

Apollo's mind, even by this world's standards, wasn't ordinary.

He had long accepted it—his brain was strange. Genius-level strange. He could grasp any form of knowledge, turn theory into practice, dismantle entire systems and rebuild them better than before. It all came naturally to him.

Always had.

And that alone made him wonder: was something wrong with him?

Was he just a lunatic trapped in a world crafted by his own imagination? A secret addict? A broken mind trying to make sense of chaos?

Apollo could only smile bitterly at the thought.

"About that chili you fed them… is it really true?" Filly asked, breaking his thoughts. "That it can actually change talent?"

"Hopefully," Apollo replied with a cryptic smile. "Anyway, I'll let them continue training here. Could you thank the Mayor for me—for letting us use this place?"

"I'll deliver your message," Gail said with a nod, then paused as if remembering something. "Oh, and the Mayor also mentioned—if your disciples ever want to use the Training Ground again, they're welcome anytime. It'll be reserved for them on the spot."

"That's convenient," Apollo said with a nod, pleased. "I should get going. There's something else I need to take care of."

"Alright. We won't take up more of your time," Filly said.

As Apollo turned, he walked straight toward Rachel. The moment she sensed his presence, her eyes snapped open and she stood up.

"Master? Do you need something from me?" she asked with a bow.

"Come with me," Apollo said seriously. "I'm going to show you something."

System, I need to make a loan.

The words echoed in his mind, and before they could even settle, a translucent screen shimmered into existence before him.

This motherfcker is fast.*

There was no delay. Not even a millisecond. The System responded instantly.

"Glad to hear," the System replied in its usual emotionless tone.

But even without inflection, Apollo could feel it—just a faint hint of excitement behind the cold words. It was subtle, almost imaginary.

Almost.

He didn't want to believe it was just in his head.

He'd known for a while that the System had a loan feature. It was only ever mentioned once or twice, casually tucked between all the other nonsense it threw at him.

But now? Now he needed that offer.

He glanced toward the end of the street—where his next plan was about to take shape.

A narrow strip of land, wedged between two buildings, typically used for food stalls. After putting in a few special requests to the Mayor, he was given this plot.

It wasn't hidden like the first Beggar Spot.

No—this one sat right in the heart of Belthias' central district, where crowds never stopped moving.

And that was good.

More eyes. More footsteps. More people to see his disciples.

More Alms to collect.

"What do you want to buy?" the System asked.

Apollo let out a dry, painful smile.

"My second Beggar Spot," he said.