Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

Stan turned to the second page. It marked the beginning of the first Chapter.

At the top of the page, printed in bold, imposing letters, were four words:

THE AGE OF DAO

Stan took note of the title and began to read;

Long before recorded history, Earth existed in an era later remembered as the Age of Dao.

The opening sentence carried an unusual weight, as though the text itself understood the significance of what it was revealing.

He continued.

The book described a world unlike anything modern humanity could imagine.

An Earth saturated with Qi.

Not the fictional energy of cultivation novels, but a real and measurable force that permeated every corner of the planet. Spirit veins coursed beneath continents like vast underground rivers. Sacred mountains birthed heavenly treasures. Ancient beasts roamed untamed wildernesses. Cultivation was not myth, religion, or legend. It was the foundation upon which civilization itself was built.

Yet humanity had not ruled that world.

According to the book, Earth had been shared by four great races:

Humans. Vampires. Werewolves. Demihumans.

Of the four, humanity had occupied the lowest position.

Humans possessed weak natural affinity for Qi. Their bodies were fragile, their lifespans short, and their senses dull compared to the supernatural races that shared the world with them.

The vampires had been born with extraordinary spiritual perception and an innate mastery over Blood Qi. Their bloodlines granted exceptional talent for cultivation, while the oldest among them routinely lived for centuries.

The werewolves were equally gifted.

Their physiques possessed a natural harmony with Earth and Beast Qi. Even young werewolves wielded strength capable of overwhelming ordinary humans. Their packs functioned as disciplined military societies, their hierarchies determined by power, lineage, and ancestral prestige.

The demihumans were the most diverse race of all.

Foxfolk. Catfolk. Serpentkin/Nagas. Hawkkin. Lionfolk. Rabbitfolk.

Countless bloodlines existed beneath the demihuman banner, each tracing its ancestry to ancient spiritual beasts. Their inherited gifts varied widely. Some possessed enhanced senses. Others wielded innate elemental abilities. Many enjoyed remarkable agility, resilience, or lifespans that stretched across centuries.

Yet beyond all these advantages, the supernatural races shared a far more terrifying trait.

Bloodlust Aura.

The book described it not as a psychological phenomenon but as a spiritual one.

A pressure carried within the soul itself.

To stand before a powerful vampire, werewolf, or demihuman was to feel every instinct screaming for survival. The weak found it difficult to breathe. Some collapsed under the pressure. Others fled. Many lost the will to fight before battle had even begun.

For thousands of years, humanity remained beneath the other races.

Entire human settlements existed as tributaries to vampire clans.

Others survived under the protection of werewolf packs.

Still others lived within territories governed by powerful demihuman houses.

To many among the supernatural races, ordinary humans were little different from livestock. Useful, intelligent, sometimes entertaining, but ultimately inferior.

Then everything began to change. The next section contained a single word.

Will

Stan unconsciously slowed his reading.

The book explained that, from time to time, a human would emerge whose spirit seemed completely immune to fear.

Men and women capable of standing before ancient vampire lords without lowering their heads.

Individuals whose determination transcended instinct itself.

Humans whose souls burned with such intensity that even supernatural predators found themselves unable to regard them as lesser beings.

These extraordinary individuals became known as True Humans.

The title had not originated among mankind.

It had been bestowed by the vampires, werewolves, and demihumans themselves.

To the supernatural races, a True Human represented humanity at its absolute pinnacle. A being who had overcome weakness through the sheer force of spirit. A person worthy of standing as an equal.

The appearance of every True Human became a major event.

Many rose to become legendary cultivators. Many founded sects whose names echoed through history. Many became rulers, sages, or conquerors. Some surpassed vampire monarchs, werewolf kings, and demihuman sovereigns alike in raw cultivation power.

Though their numbers remained few, their influence spread steadily across the world.

Humanity gradually ceased to be prey. Relations between the races began to evolve. Treaties were negotiated. Shared cities emerged. Trade flourished. Knowledge was exchanged.

Eventually, after centuries of cooperation and compromise, the four races forged a historic agreement known as the Fourfold Accord.

The pact endured for nearly three thousand years and prevented open war among the races.

The book referred to the era that followed as the Golden Age of Cultivation.

An age when immortals walked openly among mortals. An age when dragons still crossed the heavens. An age when sects hidden within cloud-wreathed mountains guided the course of nations.

An age when the greatest cultivators could cross oceans in a single step. An age when the four races stood united beneath Heaven.

Stan turned the page.

The Chapter ended with a single sentence.

’Then came the event that ended an era.’

A faint sense of foreboding settled in his chest. Without hesitation, he turned to the next Chapter.

THE NIGHT OF VANISHING

The next Chapter began with cold, meticulous precision.

’Without warning, the world changed.’

Stan continued reading.

According to the book, on a single night remembered only through fragmented records and scattered accounts, every vampire on Earth vanished.

Not their kings. Not their elders. Not merely the powerful. Every single one.

Entire kingdoms stood empty before dawn. Ancient bloodline clans disappeared without a trace. Cities inhabited exclusively by vampires became silent ghost cities overnight. Vast estates remained untouched. Treasuries remained sealed. Personal possessions lay exactly where their owners had left them.

Only the owners themselves were gone.

At the same time, the same night, the werewolves vanished as well.

Packs disappeared from forests. Tribes vanished from mountains. Fortified territories that had endured for millennia fell silent in a matter of hours.

From the greatest Alpha Kings to the youngest cubs, not a single werewolf remained anywhere on Earth.

The demihumans suffered the same fate. The great beast clans disappeared from sacred mountains. Ancient fox courts became deserted. Serpent/Naga kingdoms vanished.

The countless bloodlines that had once formed one of the world’s dominant races simply ceased to exist.

No survivors were recorded. No exceptions were found. Then came humanity’s loss.

Unlike the supernatural races, ordinary humans remained.

Farmers remained. Merchants remained. Soldiers remained. Kings remained. The weak remained. The untalented remained.

But every individual recognized as a True Human vanished. Every saint. Every legendary cultivator. Every founder of great sects.

Every human whose spirit and power had elevated them to stand as equals beside vampires, werewolves, and demihumans. Gone.

The disappearances occurred simultaneously across the entire planet.

No battles were recorded. No enemy was witnessed. No warning was given. Some vanished while meditating. Some vanished in the middle of conversations. Some disappeared while teaching disciples.

Others vanished while leading armies, presiding over courts, or traveling between sects.

Many left behind possessions. Most left behind nothing.

The event became known as The Night of Vanishing.

No explanation was ever discovered.

Stan found himself slowing as he reached the end of the Chapter.

Then he read it again.

The detached tone of the text somehow made the account more unsettling.

There were no dramatic descriptions. No speculation. No attempts to exaggerate the tragedy.

The author simply presented the disappearances as historical fact.

Three great races had vanished from existence. Humanity’s strongest had vanished alongside them.

And the world had awakened the next morning to find an entire era missing.

The book offered no theories. No suspects. No answers. Only the event itself.

As if the disappearance of civilizations was as indisputable as the rising of the sun.

A strange chill settled over Stan’s spine.

By every instinct he possessed, the book did not feel like fiction. It felt like a record.

Slowly, he turned the page.