Starting Out As The God of Beasts

’To think it takes eons for humanity to mentally evolve...’ Roy mused quietly in his mind, drawing in a smooth, unhurried breath through his nose.

This pathetic display was precisely what he had anticipated from the moment he conceived his plan.

Even in his previous life back on Earth—where mortals possessed no mana, skill magic, or martial cultivation.

The fundamental nature of human society remained entirely the same.

Humans were inherently driven by greed, ruthlessness, and an insatiable desire to oppress anyone they deemed beneath them, all while groveling like spineless hounds before those who held absolute power above them.

Humanity’s intellect might advance, their economies might transcend imagination, and their cities might reach the heavens, but the core of their hearts remained utterly stagnant.

Cruel, selfish, and deeply inhumane to their own kind.

Because Roy understood this fundamental truth so intimately, manipulating the citizens of Kaelos City was as effortless as breathing.

He didn’t need grand political rhetoric or complex strategies; he simply needed to feed their unchecked lust, pride, and predatory nature.

To ensure his trap worked flawlessly, he had to let them underestimate him completely.

He had to walk through the muddy streets, enduring their arrogant taunts and physical oppression without dropping his facade for a single second.

With a mere flick of his wrist or a thought, he could instantly obliterate these two Martial Warrior bugs into fine crimson dust.

With a single release of his divine aura, he could reduce the entirety of Kaelos City to a barren, burning crater on the map.

Yet, Kaelos City still stood for one primary reason.

Before he erased this place from existence, there were critical objectives to accomplish: he had to locate and liberate every captured beastman, secure their safe retreat, and establish a clear, undetected path to infiltrate the main stronghold of the Glorious Mythical Sect.

Until those pieces were fully secured, he would play the role of the helpless, mundane victim to absolute perfection.

Noticing Roy’s prolonged silence, the Martial Warrior whose arm was wrapped around his shoulders sneered, drastically increasing the physical pressure of his grip.

He flexed his mana-infused biceps, attempting to crush the golden-haired youth’s collarbone.

Roy faked an immediate, dramatic flinch, his knees buckling slightly as if he were completely trapped, unable to move a single inch from the spot.

"P-Please..." Roy stuttered, his voice quivering with masterfully faked desperation as he looked between the two young cultivators.

"I... I cannot do that, noble sirs! I love my wives dearly... I would rather give you all my silver, all my gold... please, spare us!"

The two Martial Warriors’ faces instantly darkened, their arrogant grins twisting into deep, offended scowls.

"Hey, fucker... did you just ignore a direct command from a cultivator?" the second Martial Warrior growled, his eyes burning with sudden, explosive rage.

BANG!

Without a second warning, the youth pulled back his fist and threw a violent, heavy strike directly into Roy’s face.

Roy allowed his body to absorb the kinetic momentum, hurtling backward through the air and crashing hard onto the wet, muddy cobblestones of the street.

Around them, the crowd of spectators—jealous old mercenaries, bitter street vendors, and arrogant teenagers—erupted into boisterous, mocking laughter.

"Look at the weakling!"

"Thinks his silver can buy off a cultivator!"

"Teach the mundane brat a lesson!"

"Get the hell up!" the first Martial Warrior barked, striding over with heavy, aggressive steps.

He brutally slammed his leather boot directly onto Roy’s face, grinding the heel against his cheek before reaching down, grabbing Roy’s shirt collar with raw, forceful violence, and dragging him back up to his feet.

The second youth gave his partner a subtle, knowing nod.

They knew that beating a registered traveler directly in the center of the main commercial thoroughfare might eventually draw an annoying reprimand from the higher-ranking city patrol.

"Move it, trash," the second youth growled, forcefully shoving Roy from behind into a dark, narrow, and silent alleyway branching off the main avenue.

They dragged him deep into the shadows, far away from the watchful eyes of the tavern crowds, where they could break his bones, torture him at their leisure, and force him to surrender his wives without any public interference.

The heavy sounds of the bustling street faded, replaced by the quiet patter of rain dripping from the wooden roofs above the deserted alleyway.

The two Martial Warriors shoved Roy against a cold stone wall, stepping back with sinister, predatory grins.

"Now then, you little mundane piece of shit..." the second youth laughed, rolling up his sleeves. "Since you decided to be stubborn, we’re going to break both of your legs before we go collect your beauties—"

Suddenly, the youth’s words trailed off.

Roy slowly raised his head.

The flustered, terrified, and trembling expression that had graced his face just seconds ago had vanished entirely without a trace.

His posture straightened, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his face settled into a terrifying, icy composure that radiated absolute, cosmic indifference.

For a brief, split second, both Martial Warriors felt an instinctual, primal shudder run down their spines.

The sudden, drastic shift in his demeanor was so unnatural that it made their blood run cold.

However, recovering their arrogant composure instantly, the first warrior let out a harsh curse to mask his sudden fear.

"What the fuck are you looking at, ant?!"

Channelling his raw mana into his right arm, the first warrior unleashed a bone-crushing, full-power strike directly aimed at Roy’s throat, screaming in mockery,

"Die!"

PAK!

The heavy punch never reached its target.

Roy’s hand snapped forward with blinding, effortless speed, his fingers wrapping firmly around the cultivator’s incoming, mana-infused fist like a vice made of forged steel.

The collision did not produce a loud shockwave; instead, Roy held the blow completely dead in mid-air, absorbing every ounce of force without his body moving a single millimeter.

The first warrior’s eyes bulged in utter disbelief.

He tried to pull his hand back, but Roy’s grip was absolute. Slowly, methodically, Roy tightened his fingers.

CRACK!

"AGHHH! MY HAND! MY BONES! AHHHH!" The first Martial Warrior fell to his knees, screaming in ear-splitting, agony as his fingers, knuckles, and wrist bones were crushed into a mangled pulp inside Roy’s light, casual grasp.

The second Martial Warrior stood completely paralyzed, his mind failing to process the reality before him.

How could a mundane man stop a cultivator’s strike with his bare hands? How could an ant crush iron-like bones?!

"M-Monster! What are you—" the second youth stammered, frantically reaching for his sword hilt to launch an emergency strike.

Before his blade could clear the scabbard, his eyes involuntarily met Roy’s.

Roy’s dual golden-crimson pupils flared with a subtle, mesmerizing light.

Without emitting a single wave of spiritual pressure, Roy activated his second divine authority.

The Divine Authority of Mindcraft.

An invisible, terrifying wave of absolute authority surged into the young cultivator’s mind, completely shattering his consciousness, erasing his free will, and rewriting his neural pathways in a microsecond.

The second Martial Warrior’s hands instantly dropped away from his sword.

His trembling body went completely rigid, his aggressive expression smoothing out into a blank, hollow void.

His eyes lost every single trace of life, shining like dull, unreflective glass.

Within the span of a single heartbeat, the proud cultivator had been completely stripped of his soul, reduced to a mindless, obedient puppet waiting for his master’s command.

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