Name: Klaus
Race: Mortal
Age: 15
Cultivation: None
Luck: ★☆☆☆☆
Karmic Burden: ★★★☆☆
...
The wind passed over Klaus's face as he pulled weeds from the dry ground.
He worked in silence, his hands moving out of habit.
Grip. Pull. Shake the dirt loose. Toss it aside.
His face showed no emotion, not because he felt nothing, but because showing anything only caused trouble, and troubles would bring death.
Klaus had been reborn into this world, this he realized.
He realized it when he was very young. Memories from another life came slowly — school, books, computers, a normal world with no cultivation or immortals. Back then, he had been careful. Too careful. He studied hard, avoided danger, and lived a quiet life, but then interest in a book cost him everything.
A strange cultivation manual in a small shop during an exchange trip to China. He didn't even open it, just giving it a slight touch only interested in the cover and its design.
When he woke up again, he was here.
At first, he believed this was an opportunity that most would've begged for — a world of cultivation, flying swords, the ability to cut mountains in half, immortality and more freedom than anyone could wish for.
He waited for his talent to awaken.
He waited for any sort of system in his head to respond.
Nothing happened.
Fifteen years passed.
He had no spiritual roots. No talent. No cultivation base. The system remained silent most days, as useless as his body.
He was a slave.
The Heavenly Twin Flame Sect called itself righteous, but Klaus knew better. They hid deep within the Worldroot Realm and used mortals as tools. Slaves cleaned, farmed, carried supplies, and died when they could no longer work.
His parents were among those who died early.
They had weak bodies and worked themselves to death. With their last strength, they offered him to the sect in exchange for coin. That was how he became the property of Elder Ignis.
Ignis was not cruel in the way stories described villains.
He simply did not care.
To him, slaves were no different from broken tools, easily replaceable and expected to work no matter the weather or their health.
As Klaus worked, an old slave sat beside him. The man looked thin enough to snap in half. His hands shook as he sorted herbs under the hot sun.
He was sixty years old.
Old for a slave.
Neither of them spoke.
When night came, the old man collapsed.
He didn't move again.
Klaus noticed immediately, but stayed where he was. Touching a corpse spread sickness. Leaving it alone caused other problems, but each choice had its disadvantages, and to risk one's health was stupid even for a slave.
Before he decided, heat washed over the garden, and there stood Elder Ignis.
Four cultivators followed him, their presence heavy enough to make breathing harder, but their beauty cleansed their souls at the same time. Every slave dropped to their knees.
Klaus followed a second later, pressing his knees onto a small rock, which made him silently hiss.
Ignis looked at the body and frowned.
With a small motion of his hand, a circle of fire appeared. The corpse burned to ash in seconds.
No burial. No words.
Just ash on the ground.
Klaus felt something twist in his chest.
'Not even a grave, not even a place to remember his name — and that will be me if I don't figure a way to leave,' he told himself. 'Such a death will never befall me, I swear it.'
Ignis spoke calmly, "These four will oversee the slaves while I am gone. Do not disturb their cultivation. If you disobey, your souls will be destroyed."
The four stepped forward.
They were beautiful in a way that felt wrong, perfect skin, calm expressions, eyes without warmth.
One of them—a woman—looked at Klaus.
He was a moment too slow to lower his head.
She smiled.
Her eyes briefly turned cold and sharp, like a snake's.
Then, they were normal again.
Klaus lowered his gaze and said nothing.
That night, he lay on his wooden bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep would not come.
And then...
The system finally spoke.
[The time has come.]
His eyes widen in shock, and his heartbeat fastens.
[Your introduction to the world of cultivation.]
[Survive the interest of the fiendish cultivator.]
Klaus closed his eyes.