The next morning, Zhao Yan was roused from sleep and handed a broom, his first duty as a menial disciple laid bare.
The others quickly dispersed to their assigned chores, leaving him alone to sweep the ground floor of the dormitory.
Dust swirled in the dim light filtering through narrow windows.
As he dragged the broom beneath the rows of beds, something caught his eye—a large, uneven bulge pressed against the floorboards under one of the frames. Curiosity prickled at him.
He knelt, lifted the bedframe with effort, and uncovered a bundle of clothes crammed tightly into the shadows. Hidden within were three books—two bound in blue, one in faded green.
His hand went instinctively to the green one.
The cover was worn, but the characters etched into it were still clear.
"Phantom Step Technique, " murmuring the name aloud, Zhao Yan flipped it open and scanned the contents.
His eyes darted across the strange diagrams and lines of instruction. Rising, he attempted to mimic the stances, his body shifting clumsily through the motions.
Soon, his footwork tangled and his form became unbalanced—he could not grasp the technique at all.
Frustrated, he exhaled sharply and dropped back down onto the bed.
Then, almost reflexively, his gaze flicked to the shimmering status window.
Zhao Yan
Age: 15
Cultivation: None (+)
Techniques: Phantom Step Technique - Not Initiated (+)
Revulsion Points: 100
Pity Points: 13
Zhao Yan remembered something he had overheard before: every technique focused on levels of mastery—beginner, intermediate, advanced, expert, and finally, origin.
His eyes lingered on the small glowing (+) beside Phantom Step Technique on his status window.
His hand twitched at the (+) sign, but he forced himself to stop.
"I shouldn't," he whispered under his breath.
"Menial disciples aren't permitted to learn combat techniques. They're only allowed to practice the breathing method handed out by the sect."
Soon, his gaze drifted back to the book resting in his lap.
'If it's hidden here, then whoever slept in this bed had either stolen it from somewhere… or was acting as a spy.'
The thought carried weight, enough to quicken his pulse.
Still, another possibility came to him, one that made his mouth curl in a half-sneer.
'Or maybe the owner of this bed was simply gifted the book by some outer or inner disciple—as payment for cultivation… favors.'
The absurdity of it gnawed at him.
The Kunlun Sect was already drowning in corruption, but the image in his head made him twitch with irritation.
He exhaled sharply, slipped the book back beneath the bed along with the clothes, and smoothed everything back into place.
As he sifted through the other books, Zhao Yan's eyes landed on a familiar title—the Swallow Heaven Technique, the standard cultivation manual issued by the sect.
But next to it lay another volume bearing the same name, though this one carried something extra.
Flipping it open, he frowned.
When practicing the Swallow Heaven Technique, the more fiery and passionate the two cultivators are, the faster the results will be. In that process, greater amounts of Qi can be absorbed.
Zhao Yan snapped the book shut with a sharp motion, muttering under his breath, "Damn!"
But his mind lingered on those words.
'The method is powerful, no doubt about it.'
'But creating Qi through this path meant binding oneself to dual cultivation for life.'
He let out a short, wry laugh.
"It's not impossible… but every dual cultivation method carries the same curse—you need a partner."
The memory of the morning tugged at him.
That scrawny youth who'd sneered at him yesterday now looked unnervingly vigorous, his frail frame replaced with a robust one.
Shen Hao, on the other hand, had simply vanished.
The corner of Zhao Yan's mouth twitched.
If you're weak in this place, you don't just die—you become nourishment for the strong.
He returned the books to their exact place, dusted his hands, and resumed cleaning, methodical as ever.
He searched a few more beds, hoping for another hidden technique, but nothing else surfaced.
...
Once the dormitory was spotless, Zhao Yan made his way to the cafeteria, collected his meal, and sat quietly at the farthest corner. He ate in silence, blending into the crowd, doing his best to remain invisible.
Afterward, he drifted toward the open grounds.
The moment he stepped in, his eyes widened.
The field wasn't filled with sparring matches or meditation circles as he had imagined.
Instead, both inner and outer disciples were engaged in a very different kind of cultivation—one that was carnal, unrestrained, and conducted out in the open.
From the sidelines, the elders' voices carried clearly through the air.
"You can't always stay on top," one instructed firmly.
"Let her take the lead—that's how the Qi should flow," another corrected, his tone matter-of-fact.
A third added, "Don't forget to keep your breathing steady. Match your thrusts with the rhythm of the technique."
Zhao Yan's gaze followed their words—and froze.
The same young man who had invited him yesterday was now in plain sight, entangled with a female disciple, both stripped bare under the open sky.
Around them, the five elders sat like overseers, calmly guiding every movement, as though this was no shameful act but a normal cultivation method itself.
Zhao Yan froze in place, unable to move, his eyes locked in disbelief.
Out of nowhere, a stunning woman strolled toward him, completely bare, her skin gleaming under the daylight.
She stopped directly in front of him and, with a mischievous wink, purred, "Why don't you mate with me?"
His throat tightened.
He swallowed hard before stammering, "S–Senior, let me… think about it later."
But the longer he stood there, the harder it became to keep his thoughts clean.
The open courtyard was filled with writhing bodies and shameless moans, and with each glance, he felt his mind being dragged into the chaos.
A storm of conflicting voices rose within him.
If I keep watching them like this… I might actually want to do it out here myself.
No! I can't.
I'm a civilized man.
I can't stoop to such depravity, becoming a sex machine for.... cultivation.
Yet as his heart battled against temptation, his thoughts returned to the Absolute Beggar System.
Compared to this obscene path, begging suddenly seemed noble, almost righteous.
For the first time, he felt relief at his fate.
Whatever doubt lingered in him about begging himself for cultivation vanished completely in this moment.
One thought crystallized in his heart, unshakable and resolute:
The way of the beggar is the only way.