Beggar Cultivation System

A few kilometers away from Belthias City lies a vast desert, composed of dunes, mesas, and hamadas. It's a world of its own—some parts are fertile, while others resemble hell, a testament to the scorching heat of the sun.

In a particular part of this desert, gorges provide shade from the intense heat and concealment from the eyes of beasts and monsters.

One such gorge features a wide area with a creek running through the middle. Only a small amount of water flows, but it is consistent and clean.

However, it didn't remain that way for long. Blood splashed into the water, tainting the only freshwater source red.

"How dare you disobey me?!" A deep voice reverberated, filled with anger as he raised his right hand once more for another slap.

The man was clad in silver armor from head to toe, protecting his vital spots. However, his attire couldn't mask the lust and fury burning in his eyes as he gazed at the young woman before him.

"P-please… I don't… want to," the young woman sobbed between her words. The left side of her face bore a visible bruise, and her lower lip had split from the previous slap, sending waves of stinging pain through her.

She had brown hair and dark green eyes, and even though she wore a dress that looked like it hadn't been washed in years, her natural beauty remained undeniable.

"You don't want to?" The silver-armored guard smirked coldly. "You slum rats have no right to refuse what we want! You are nothing but dirt in society! Nothing but tools for us to step on!"

His gaze shifted to the people beside the creek, dressed in nothing but ragged, filthy clothes. Their faces, covered in dirt and hopelessness, only added to their wretched state. They sat huddled together on the ground, like a flock of sheep herded into submission.

However, the guard's ridicule ignited a fire in their hearts—especially among the women, who had been reduced to playthings for these Callum Guards. At first, they had only targeted those of the right age, but now they had set their sights on someone younger: Rachel.

Some wanted to stand up and protect her, just as they had when the guard first ordered Rachel to follow him to the tent where the leader of the Callum Guards resided.

But just like before, silver-armored guards standing on the sidelines struck down anyone who tried to rise.

The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed, startling Rachel. She turned and saw the people she cared about collapsed, coughing up blood.

Her heart ached at the sight.

"Did you see that, b*tch?" The silver-armored guard sneered.

"W-why? W-we already… left that place. We just wanted peace… to live without trouble," Rachel said, her voice cracking as tears fell.

"Why?" The guard laughed before his face turned serious. "Because the poor and weak, like you, have no place in this world."

"You…!" Rachel glared at the guard, but her beautiful, defiant eyes only fueled his lust.

"You're beautiful even when you're angry," the guard chuckled. "Unfortunately, I won't be the one to taste the blood of your flower. The captain awaits you inside—unless, of course, you'd prefer we kill another one of your kind."

Rachel's body visibly shivered. Her eyes darted past the tents behind the guard before settling on a gruesome sight—bodies piled on top of one another, blood covering them completely.

It was the result of refusal. The death of one of their own.

They had tried to defy these silver-armored guards, but in the end, their lives were taken. She could even see children less than ten years old among the dead, bringing even more pain to her heart.

"Follow me," the silver-armored guard in front of her ordered before he started walking toward the largest tent.

Rachel glanced back at the former Slumstreet dwellers behind her, her eyes trembling with fear.

She saw them looking at her, their gazes filled with the same terror. As she scanned their faces, her eyes fell on the children hugging each other while sobbing. Their bodies were covered in bruises—a clear mark left by the cruelty of the silver-armored guards.

Rachel wanted to protect them, to be their big sister. She couldn't bear to see another bloodbath.

What if she did her best and made the Captain fall in love with her? Would he stop?

Gritting her teeth, she followed the guard with slow, hesitant steps.

"Hurry up!" the guard shouted, yanking her hair and dragging her into the tent.

"Argh!" Rachel grunted in pain, but the guard was a 1st-Step Foundation Building Stage cultivator—a strength no normal human could hope to resist.

"Do your best, b*tch," the guard chuckled as he tossed her inside the massive tent.

The tent flap opened, and Rachel tumbled inside.

She groaned in pain before realizing that the place was dark. The once bright day now felt cold and suffocating.

Slowly, she sat up, and her eyes instinctively fell on the far end of the tent.

What she saw made her even more nervous and fearful.

A man sat on a chair, padded comfortably with the soft skin of a beast.

He had blonde hair and eyebrows, and his deep blue eyes studied her with amusement.

He wore nothing, displaying his well-defined body.

But that wasn't what made Rachel's breath hitch—it was the women surrounding the chair. Some lay on the ground, barely breathing, while others were already dead.

"You must be the one," the Captain said.

"Y-you killed them," Rachel stuttered.

"I am a Qi Condensation Stage cultivator specializing in Body Tempering Techniques. Their mortal bodies couldn't handle me. They were nothing but disposables," Captain Tor Callum said coldly.

"You… all of you are evil!" Rachel shouted, her eyes wide with horror.

"No, we're just stronger than you," Tor said as he stood up. "You see, to you slum rats—the powerless—we are your gods. Cultivators, nobles, those in power… you should obey us like good little dogs."

Tor Callum served under the North Guard Captain of Klown City—his cousin, as they belonged to the same family. He had been tasked with leading dozens of men to hunt down the Slumstreet people who had escaped the city. He didn't ask any questions; he simply carried out the order.

To him, it was just a vacation.

But this so-called vacation turned out to be even better than expected. There was no time limit on the hunt, so Tor decided to make the most of it.

And what could be better than playing god? Here, he was the strongest—their god. There was nothing they could do except obey him.

Although he was curious as to why no news had come from the city despite sending word of his success, he saw it as an advantage. The longer they didn't respond, the longer he could enjoy his reign.

If he tried this in the city, he would surely anger people stronger than him. But out here, he could do whatever he wanted without worrying about consequences.