Ten children writhed on the ground, bodies twisted in agony.

Hands clutched their throats as they gasped for air, desperate for relief.

Their faces were as red as tomatoes, steam seemingly rising from their heads like boiling kettles.

The Training Ground had been reserved just for them—no outsiders allowed. But Filly and Gail were no outsiders. They stood silently at the edge, wide-eyed, watching the chaos unfold before them.

"This… isn't this too cruel?" Filly asked, her voice trembling, breath heavy as she took in the scene.

Gail frowned but said nothing.

Cruel? Not to her. She had seen far worse as a personal bodyguard—and assassin—for the Kleinford Family. This didn't even qualify as suffering in her book.

They weren't poisoned. No internal damage, no Qi disorder. They had simply eaten something.

And now, they were paying the price.

"They're just reacting to the taste," Gail said quietly.

Filly blinked. "Did you see what he gave them?"

"Yes," Gail replied. "Chili."

"Chili?" Filly exhaled in relief. "Then I get it. That stuff's not lethal—but it hurts like hell."

"It's more than just chili," Gail murmured. "If it were ordinary, they'd still be in pain—but not foaming at the mouth."

"You're right…"

Still confused, they watched as the ten Disciples of the Beggar began to settle down, slowly catching their breath.

Meanwhile, Apollo stood with arms folded, watching Don, Rachel, and the others collapse in exhaustion. Their chests heaved, their eyes blank, like the souls had been cooked out of them.

"Good," Apollo said, nodding. "You took it well."

Took it well? Don stared up at his Master with a bitter smile.

He'd seen what this Chili of Intelligence did to Apollo's pets. Every time they ate it, they howled like they were dying.

And now, he had experienced it himself.

From the moment that red demon touched his tongue—chewed and swallowed—it felt like eating the sun itself. Hot. Spicy. Unreal.

He couldn't feel his tongue. Couldn't feel anything but fire.

The burning didn't stay in his mouth. It spread, flooding his whole body, scorching every nerve, every cell, every hair on his head.

His heart raced. His throat locked up. He couldn't breathe.

Then came the pain.

A pain so immense, he passed out.

Only to be jerked awake by the pain again. Again. And again.

He couldn't understand. Why? What was the point of this? We didn't do anything wrong.

As if reading his thoughts, Apollo spoke.

"Some of you are probably wondering... why?" His voice echoed, strong and calm. "Why eat that? Why suffer like that?"

By now, all the Disciples had regained some composure. Their faces were still flushed, some still wheezing—but they listened, ears perked, eyes sharp.

"Because that chili will build your foundation stronger than anyone else's," Apollo declared, a grin stretching across his face. "After this, rivaling talents from the Main Continent? That'll be child's play."

The Disciples froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

Then, excitement lit up their faces. They believed him. With all their hearts.

Their Master didn't lie.

Don, still catching his breath, blinked in surprise. He thought the chili was punishment. His Master always gave it to his pets when they misbehaved. But now he realized—that might've just been an excuse.

This so-called punishment was actually a gift. A monstrous, world-breaking, heaven-defying gift.

They knew exactly what it meant to possess talent equal to someone from the Middle Continent—and they also knew that talent wasn't something one could gain through effort alone. You were born with it. That was the cruel truth of cultivation.

But if what their Master had given them was real… if this Chili of Intelligence could truly change their natural potential—then the pain they had just endured was a small price to pay.

One by one, the Disciples rose to their feet, backs straight, eyes brimming with reverence as they looked upon their Master.

"But Master… if what you're saying is true… I don't feel any different," Rachel managed to say between rough, shallow breaths.

"You believe me, and yet you still question?" Apollo raised an eyebrow, voice calm but firm.

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. Her knees hit the ground as she bowed deeply, pressing her forehead into the dirt as if she had just committed a great sin. "My apologies, Master."

"No," Apollo said, waving his hand.

The surrounding Qi wrapped around Rachel like invisible strings and gently lifted her back to her feet.

"You did nothing wrong. I admire that you had the courage to ask what you didn't understand. I want all of you to be like her. I'm your Master—not your tyrant. Ask, and I will answer."

Rachel's eyes widened, face flushed with color as she nodded quickly.

"What you just ate is called the Chili of Intelligence," Apollo continued, glancing around at the group. The Disciples all stood with rapt attention, like diligent students. Seeing this, Apollo couldn't help but nod in satisfaction. "That chili is a rare item. Not something you can buy with money. Its effects are subtle and gradual. It won't feel like much now—but your talent has already improved. All that's left is for you to make use of it."

The Disciples clenched their fists.

Some were slower to understand, but even they began to feel something—an internal shift, faint but present. Apollo noticed immediately. Good. This chili really is worth it.

And cheap, too, he thought to himself—though he didn't dare look at his Alm Points. He'd nearly drained them dry just to buy this batch.

With a flick of his hand, his space ring shimmered. A pouch materialized in the air and spun toward Rachel, who caught it with a surprised gasp.

"T-this…?" She opened the pouch and immediately recognized the contents. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I want you to distribute one of those every month," Apollo instructed. "To your fellow brothers and sisters," he added, using the traditional term Cultivators used to address fellow disciples. "What you've eaten today is just the beginning. I want all of you to rise above the rest. When I return a few months from now—I expect progress."

"Thank you, Master!" Rachel bowed deeply, tears brimming in her eyes. Then, after a pause, she looked up at him, hesitant. "But… we don't have any Cultivation Techniques or Battle Techniques yet."

Apollo chuckled. "Haha, of course I'll give you those. Though I wouldn't call it teaching. It's more like… handing them out."

The Disciples' eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation.

Don stood proudly by his Master's side, while Filly and Gail continued to observe from the edge, their curiosity growing stronger by the second.

Apollo raised his hand and drew in a light breath, then closed his eyes.

A moment later, white light began to gather above his palm—soft at first, then brighter.

He opened his eyes, focusing on the swirling light with anticipation. He was using the same method he once used when he taught Don the Essence of Fighting.

He hadn't given the technique a name before.

Now, he finally had one.

"Essence Transferring Technique," Apollo muttered as the white light solidified—taking shape as a glowing scroll in the air above his hand.