Beggar Cultivation System

Bluetooth came back, wings sluggish and his tiny head hanging low. The usual spark in his eyes had dulled, replaced by a brooding silence.

Seeing that disappointed expression, Apollo didn't even need to ask. He already knew.

"Did you see her?" Apollo asked as the Water-Attributed Falcon landed lightly on his shoulder, his tiny talons digging in just enough for balance.

"Yes," Bluetooth muttered, barely able to meet his eyes.

"Hmm… Seems like something happened."

Bluetooth hesitated, then sighed. "That girl she's with… she's strong."

Just thinking about her made his feathers bristle. A chill still lingered in his bones—the kind only true pressure could imprint. "Can you defeat her?" he asked suddenly, turning to his master with a spark of hope in his eyes.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to?"

Bluetooth blinked.

"This is your problem," Apollo said flatly. "You should cultivate and not rely on me all the time. Look at Don—he's already pushing toward the Qi Condensation Stage, and he still throws up on your back every few hours."

They were now sitting in a quiet park tucked away within one of Manida Land's inner districts. It was surprisingly serene for a city this large.

The park itself was lined with flowering trees whose petals drifted lazily on the breeze. Several benches and stone seats were placed beneath the trees, some occupied by old cultivators sipping tea, others by merchants resting their feet. A pair of children tossed pebbles into one of the small lakes that sparkled under the afternoon sun. The lake's surface shimmered with spiritual light, indicating some mild enchantments in place—probably to purify the air or Qi in the area. Ducks—spirit ducks, judging by their subtle glow—paddled across the lake in lazy circles.

Don sat beneath one of the larger trees, his eyes closed, his breathing steady. A food tray lay beside him, half-eaten buns and skewers untouched as the boy focused on cultivating the Simple Breathing Technique. The soft pulse of Qi in the air suggested he was doing well.

Apollo watched him for a moment before turning to his own meal. He picked up a skewer, bit down, and closed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Hah… finally. Something with actual flavor," he muttered, nodding as the rich taste of grilled spirit beast meat spread over his tongue. "Worth every gold coin."

Bluetooth remained on his shoulder, silent.

Apollo glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What? You want to eat too?"

"I lost my appetite," the falcon mumbled, clearly still sulking.

"Then cultivate," Apollo said, chewing slowly. "That girl won't even see you until you're strong enough to cast a shadow on the sky."

Bluetooth's tiny claws clenched. "I will. I'll reach Qi Condensation before that pink bird forgets my face."

"Good." Apollo flicked a grain of rice into his beak. "I'll hold you to that."

They sat in silence for a while, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of roasted meat and blooming flowers. Birds chirped in the trees, and the occasional cultivator passed by, nodding respectfully at Apollo—most likely sensing a pressure they couldn't quite identify.

Apollo continued eating as if nothing in the world concerned him.

But deep inside, he was thinking about his own cultivation.

He'd been using every spare moment—from the desert winds to the drifting clouds overhead—to refine his techniques. The Revised Simple Breathing Technique and the Great Serpent Ascendant Transformation Technique had both reached a critical point. Every inhale of unrefined Qi felt sharper, more potent, and every exhale left a trace of pressure in the air.

He was on the edge.

He could feel it.

A single step forward would push him into the next realm.

But the knowledge he'd absorbed at the Great Serpent Cultivation School echoed in his mind like a warning bell: from the Core Creation stage onward, breakthroughs could provoke Lightning Tribulation.

It wasn't guaranteed for everyone. Only those with extraordinary talent—those who defied the natural order and reached stages faster than most—faced the heavens' wrath. Most cultivators at his level would break through quietly, unremarkably. But Apollo knew better.

He was not most cultivators.

"I really am asking for trouble," he muttered under his breath, staring down at the small lake in the park, watching the ripples move like veins of energy across the surface.

If he allowed himself to advance now, the Lightning Tribulation would fall, and there was no guarantee it would stop at one bolt. His body was sturdy, tempered by countless battles and reinforced by the Great Serpent Ascendant Technique, but the kind of tribulation he expected wasn't normal. And worse—it would blow his cover.

The moment a tribulation descended, anyone with a decent level of strength would notice it. In a city like Manida, where powerful sects and noble factions congregated for the Exchange, such an event would be like lighting a flare in the middle of the night sky. Attention would come from all directions.

And attention was the last thing he needed right now.

Especially with the hidden Devil lurking somewhere nearby, watching from the shadows like a wolf waiting for the right moment to strike.

Apollo's eyes narrowed. "Not yet. I need a quiet place. Somewhere away from the city."

He would have to delay his breakthrough for now—force himself to maintain balance on the razor's edge between realms until the moment was right. It would be risky to suppress his cultivation for too long, but not as risky as inviting the entire continent to come knocking on his door.

He took another bite from the food tray and glanced at Don.

The boy was deep in meditation, face relaxed, Qi spiraling subtly around his body. Don had improved at an astonishing rate. From a sickly street kid to someone steadily approaching Qi-Condensation Stage—it was impressive, especially for someone with no background or foundation.

Apollo felt a strange warmth seeing his disciple grow stronger. It reminded him of the ones he left behind in Belthias. He would make time to check on them… eventually.

Bluetooth, now back in pigeon-size, was napping on a nearby bench, beak tucked under his wing, snoring softly. The falcon's tiny body twitched every now and then—probably dreaming about the pink falcon again.

Apollo let out a chuckle before his gaze returned to the sky.

"Tribulation or not… when the time comes, I'll welcome it."

His voice was calm, but his fists clenched slightly, veins bulging on his arms.

He had to get stronger.

He couldn't afford to wait forever.

Especially with what's coming.