Starting Out As The God of Beasts

The heavy, metallic scent of iron hung thick in the air, mixing with the damp steam rising from the open bathroom door.

Eurenia stepped out into the main chamber of Room 301, draped only in a fluffy white towel wrapped tightly around her chest.

Drops of water glinted on her collarbones, but her sharp nose instantly twitched.

Her golden, feline pupils dilated as she picked up the unmistakable, foul stench of fresh human blood.

She froze mid-step, her eyes widening in surprise.

In the center of the room, the wooden floorboards were drenched in dark crimson gore.

Alisa stood calmly amidst the carnage, her Phantom Veil daggers gleaming under the dim lantern light as she effortlessly dragged the headless corpse of a Martial Warrior across the floor.

With practiced, silent precision, she was already using a thick cloth dipped in solvent to scrub away the bloodstains, leaving not a single droplet behind.

Eurenia’s brows furrowed deeply as she stepped over a puddle of red.

”Alisa... what in the world happened here?”

Alisa did not pause her work, her emerald eyes remaining entirely cold as she tossed the severed head into a heavy burlap sack.

”The flies came precisely as Master Jarden predicted,” Alisa explained smoothly, her tone flat and matter-of-fact. ”Three Martial Warriors sent by a local commander to kidnap us under the guise of an ’immigration check.’ Master Jarden foresaw their arrival before he even stepped out the door.”

She paused, looking up at Eurenia. ”His orders were absolute. We are to slaughter any who attempt to breach this room, erase every trace of the struggle, and quietly bury their remains near the estate of Warden Bass.

We must leave a completely clean slate so no suspicion falls upon us when the city begins to fracture.”

Hearing the full extent of the plot, Eurenia let out a harsh, contemptuous sneer, her silver tail lashing behind her towel.

”Wretched, disgusting parasites... their lust truly knows no bounds. They see a helpless woman and think themselves gods merely because they wield a thread of spiritual energy.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a long exhale, and her expression softened into one of profound, reverent devotion.

”Master Jarden truly is the greatest Apostle to ever walk this world,” Eurenia whispered, a small, blooming smile gracing her lips. ”He anticipates their every move before they even think to make it.

He protects us, guides us, and clears the path for our kin. We cannot afford to disappoint him by even a fraction, Alisa. Help me clean this filth.”

”Agreed,” Alisa nodded softly, tossing her a fresh cloth. ”Let us finish the cleanup before he returns.”

***

Meanwhile, a few hundred meters away from The Sleeping Boar Inn.

The late afternoon drizzle had tapered off into a light, cool mist that clung to the cobblestone streets of Kaelos City’s commercial quarter.

Roy strolled casually along the wide stone thoroughfare, his hands tucked loosely into his dark trousers.

A relaxed, almost cheerful smile rested upon his handsome face as he looked around at the ironmongers, potion shops, and tea houses lining the avenue.

To any casual observer, he looked like a relieved, fortunate survivor—a wealthy young man simply taking a peaceful stroll after being rescued by the valiant guards of Kaelos City.

In truth, he was deliberately offering himself up as live bait.

With how rapidly his psychological seeds had taken root, news of the ”helpless golden-haired merchant and his two divine wives” had spread to every corner, tavern, and guardhouse in the district.

Roy knew with absolute certainty that hundreds of greedy, watchful eyes were currently scouring the streets, hungrily searching for the man who possessed such legendary treasures.

As he walked past a busy open-air tavern, dozens of rough, weather-beaten faces turned toward him.

The moment the local cultivators and mercenaries recognized his striking golden hair, sharp features, and broad-shouldered build, a heavy wave of visible disappointment and bitter resentment swept through the crowd.

He was undeniably handsome, tall, and carried an air of refined, wealthy elegance.

But beneath that exterior, their mortal senses detected not a single drop of refined mana.

To them, he was completely, utterly mundane—a weak, defenseless ant.

”Look at that brat...” an old cultivator with a scarred eye muttered, slamming his wooden mug of ale onto a stone table.

”A pathetic, mundane merchant holding two women who belong in an immortal’s harem?”

The old man spat a mouthful of dark tobacco juice onto the wet cobblestones right near Roy’s path, glaring at him with raw, unadulterated hatred.

”Life truly is unfair. A breeze from a Martial Master could snap his spine, yet he gets to sleep between silk sheets with goddesses every night.”

Despite their burning envy, most of the older, more experienced cultivators kept their distance, watching silently from the shadows.

They were waiting to see which high-ranking faction would make the first move before attempting to claim a piece of the prize for themselves.

Except for two young men.

Stepping out from the entrance of an martial hall across the street were two youths in their early twenties.

They wore fine leather surcoats embroidered with the crest of a local mercenary guild, their chests puffed out with supreme, unchecked confidence.

Both carried themselves with the blatant arrogance of Initial-Enlightened stage Martial Warriors—cultivators who prided themselves immensely on standing superior to ordinary mortals.

Seeing Roy walking alone, the two youths exchanged a dark, conspiratorial grin and strutted across the street, cutting off his path.

”Well, well, well,” the first youth sneered, stepping right up to Roy’s side.

Without warning, he threw his heavy, muscular arm around Roy’s shoulders, pinning him into a tight, aggressive side-hug.

The second youth stepped directly in front of Roy, blocking any chance of forward movement, his hands resting arrogantly on his hips.

Roy faked an immediate, violent flinch.

His shoulders rounded, his face turning pale as he let out a soft, sharp gasp of fear, acting completely intimidated by their sudden, heavy physical presence.

Seeing the golden-haired ”merchant” tremble under his touch, the first youth let out a loud, mocking laugh.

He tightened his grip around Roy’s neck, channeling a slight pulse of raw mana into his arm to make his muscles feel like solid iron against Roy’s skin.

”Where are you off to in such a hurry, little merchant?” the first youth chuckled, his voice dripping with condescension.

”You look nervous. Are we disturbing your nice, peaceful walk?”

Roy lowered his head, his voice quivering with perfectly fabricated terror. ”P-Please... noble cultivators... I am merely a humble trader who lost everything in the mountains... Who are you? Why are you disturbing me?”

Hearing the tremor in Roy’s voice, the second youth’s grin widened into a predatory sneer.

He shot a smug wink at his partner, clearly enjoying the absolute power he held over this defenseless mortal.

The second youth took a step closer, smoothing down his leather vest.

He then exaggeratedly cupped his hands together and bowed with mock, theatrical respect before Roy, his eyes gleaming with dark, unchecked greed.

”Do not be frightened, little merchant,” the youth said, his voice smooth, fake, and demanding.

”We are honorable cultivators of Kaelos City. And future disciples of the Glorious Mythical Sect. Since you are a guest here seeking our protection... it is only right that you show your gratitude to those who keep you safe.”

The youth straightened his back, looking down his nose at Roy.

”We hear you brought two extraordinarily beautiful wives into our city,” the cultivator declared calmly, his tone making it sound like a simple, non-negotiable business transaction.

”My brother and I require a reward for guarding these streets. Hand one of your beauties over to us for the night... and we shall ensure you live to see tomorrow’s sun.”