Beggar Cultivation System

The gazes of the patrons turned in their direction, heavy with scorn. Don instinctively looked down, his shoulders tensing.

Apollo, on the other hand, stared coldly at the waiter who stood in front of them like a gatekeeper of pride.

This—this was one of the many downsides of being a Beggar Cultivator.

Getting denied entry, rejected by restaurants, barred from inns—he expected it. Especially in unfamiliar cities like Manida.

He had been lucky in Belthias. There was at least one restaurant that let him come and go without complaint—thanks to Filly, who knew his strength.

In this world, cultivation was currency. Power was status. If you lacked it—or looked like you did—then respect became a privilege, not a right.

Apollo could flash his cultivation level right now. If he wanted to, he could release just a portion of his real strength—enough to shake a 4th-Step Core Creation cultivator or maybe even rival a Soul Manifestation Stage.

…But that would only invite the spotlight. Trouble. Questions. Eyes.

So instead of making a scene, Apollo turned around without a word and walked toward the exit.

"Hmph. Useless trash," the waiter sneered, making no effort to lower his voice.

Some nearby customers snorted, one or two laughing outright.

So this is how it is, huh? No matter the city… I'm still just a beggar to them.

Without turning back, Apollo casually snapped his fingers.

A beat later, the waiter and those laughing suddenly choked—on food, drink, or even just their own spit. Coughs and wheezes broke out as their throats closed up, a chorus of panic fluttering through the restaurant.

Apollo allowed himself a slight smirk. Qi disruption. A subtle technique requiring delicate control over ambient Qi—completely invisible, totally undetectable. None of the cultivators around even sensed a thing.

He walked out, satisfied.

Don clutched his stomach. "Master… I'm really hungry."

Apollo handed him a few gold coins. "Then go buy something decent to wear. After that, find us food. If you look presentable, they won't throw you out."

Don's face lit up. "What about you, Master?"

"Real beggars don't wear silk," Apollo replied, glancing down at his worn robe. "I wear what the streets offer."

Don paused, eyes dimming. "Then… I don't want nice clothes either. I'll eat what the streets offer, too."

Smack!

Apollo slapped the back of his head.

"Are you insane? You want food poisoning? You want to eat rats and rotten bread?"

"No!" Don quickly shook his head.

"Then do what I said," Apollo sighed. "We're already beggars. The least we can do… is eat like kings once in a while."

"Yessir! I'll find us a good meal!" Determination gleamed in Don's eyes. With that, he darted into the crowd, his small frame vanishing between legs and robes.

Apollo watched him go and couldn't help but think about the others.

I wonder what my disciples in Belthias are doing now…

He brought up his Status Screen.

STATUS SCREEN

Name: Apollo Leone

Race: Human

Alm Points: 53 / 1100 (Loan Ongoing)

Spirit Cultivation: None

Physique Cultivation: 4th-Step Qi Condensation Stage

Attributes: Lightning, Water

Companions: Bubba (Monkey)

Beggar Disciples: Don Blanc, Rachel Moorr, Lance Kurt, Sarah Allkey…

Apollo nodded in quiet satisfaction.

When he left Belthias, his Alm Points were at zero. Now they'd reached 53.

They must've started begging already, he thought, lips curling slightly. It's not much… but it's a start.

However, whenever Apollo thought about not being able to use his Alm Points, a dull ache squeezed his chest.

Letting out a sigh, he cradled the Water-Attributed Falcon in his hands. "Hey, find us a place to rest. Somewhere fit for beggars like us."

"I'm a beggar too now?" Bluetooth tilted his head at his master, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

"You're under my care, so naturally, you follow my path," Apollo said with a smirk, gently rubbing the bird's head with a single finger. "Now go—and try not to attract attention. We don't need trouble from strangers."

The blue falcon shrieked and launched into the air, wings slicing through the air with crisp precision.

Apollo caught a flash of excitement on the bird's face and shook his head.

He already knew what Bluetooth was really planning—probably off trying to find that pink falcon again. As long as he does his job, I don't care where his wings wander.

With that thought, Apollo leaned against the wall just outside the restaurant and waited for Don to return. He let his senses stretch out, brushing against the Qi and chatter of the bustling street.

Some people shielded their presence, subtle barriers around their bodies. Apollo could tear through them with ease if he wanted, but that would only invite suspicion. He kept his reach passive, grazing for whatever information the street was willing to offer.

New city, new rules. Best to learn before acting.

Through snippets of conversation, Apollo quickly gained a rough sense of Manida Land's current state—especially about the upcoming Knowledge Exchange at the Mayor's manor.

Apparently, this time's event was far grander than usual. Big names were attending, and even Cultivators from the continent's far edges had come to witness the gathering.

But one name stood out above the rest: the Black Arts Sect, whispered with equal parts curiosity and fear.

Also known as the Cursed Sect.

That name alone was enough to pique Apollo's interest. He sharpened his focus, listening specifically for details—but the street didn't offer much. Most people had only heard vague rumors. A Sect that didn't follow tradition, that used strange, supernatural techniques unlike any other. People described them as "odd"—an elusive group that answered to no one.

Mysterious people roaming the city before the Exchange? Apollo could already sense the storm on the horizon.

"Best to avoid them at all costs," he muttered to himself. Unknown enemies are always the deadliest.

Still, he kept his ears open as he stood in place, quietly collecting scraps of conversation and ambient Qi.

After thirty minutes, Don finally returned.

He looked like a completely different person.

Apollo raised a brow in approval. The ragged beggar's outfit was gone—replaced with a tailored black and blue noble's robe that fit his small frame perfectly. His dark hair was even slicked back in an attempt at looking proper.

"That's more like it," Apollo nodded.

"These clothes were expensive, Master," Don said, tugging at the collar.

"Don't worry. It's not our money," Apollo replied, his grin devilish. He tilted his head toward the restaurant. "Go in and order me some noodles and meat. If you can humiliate that waiter, do it. And if they try to kick you out… make sure you've got the food in hand first."

"Got it!" Don saluted with childish pride, puffing out his chest before marching toward the restaurant like he owned the place.

Apollo watched him go, amusement flickering in his eyes.