Infinite: 10,000x Cashback System In Cultivation World

A massive circular wall rose in the distance, stone surface weathered with time but still imposing, stretching as far as the eye could see. But at the base of the main gate, things were a mess.

Small camps of tattered cloth and patched tents spread outward in every direction. Smoke from makeshift fires curled weakly into the air. The ground was muddy, trampled flat by too many feet, littered with broken crates and empty water skins.

Refugees were huddled in uneasy groups. Children were clinging to their parents’ sleeves with pale faces and sunken eyes. The elders were sitting leaning against wooden sticks, too tired to stand.

Near the gate, guards stood with spears crossed, holding the crowd back.

”Please—we need food! Anything you can spare!” a man shouted, his hands reaching forward.

”Our children are dying of thirst! Give us water!” a woman’s voice cracked as she lifted a half empty skin.

”Let us into the city—we can’t survive out here!”

”Open the gates! We’ll work, we’ll do anything, so please just let us in!”

”My mother can’t walk anymore, please, she’ll die out here!”

”Please at least give us medicines! The patients will not survive another day!”

The guards frowned with grips tightening on their spears as the shouting grew louder. One of them shoved a man back with the butt of his weapon, forcing space between the crowd and the wall.

”Inside is already full!” he barked. ”We don’t have more open spaces!”

Another waved his arm, scowling. ”If you can’t wait, then move along! Go to another territory!”

Their words only made the unrest worse. Desperate pleas crashed against the hard refusal of the guards.

The noise of the crowd rose higher, a chaotic swell of voices pressing against the stone wall. Then, from within, a heavy creaking sound rolled out as the great gates began to open. The sound cut through the camp, silencing some and startling others.

The guards also stiffened at once. Without hesitation they surged forward, clearing the road with rough shoves and the blunt ends of their spears.

These people who were near the front got hit first, knocked out of the way, pushed backwards, their cries silenced by the command to get out of the way. The remaining people who stood in the way were violently pushed aside, falling into the mud or being dragged away by their friends.

It became obvious in an instant that someone important was about to come out.

The restless murmur of the refugees dimmed into uneasy quiet. All eyes fixed on the widening crack in the towering gates.

The sharp rhythm of hooves rang out from inside, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Refugees craned their necks, ragged faces catching the glint of approaching thing.

From the shadow of the archway a carriage came into view. Its polished frame looked completely out of place against the mud and tents outside the wall. A formation of mounted guards flanked it tightly, their armor gleaming in sun, horses snorting clouds into the air.

The parade stopped right outside the gates. A cloud of dust arose and settled slowly on the silent crowd. A few of the guards got off their horses and came forward to surround the coach. It was clear that the one seated inside enjoyed high status.

One guard, wearing a slightly finer breastplate than the rest, stepped forward. His face softened into a polite smile. With a careful motion he reached for the carriage door, pulled it open, and stood respectfully aside.

A figure emerged, it was slightly portly figure. clad in richly embroidered garments that touched the tips of his shiny shoes. Rings were seen on his thick fingers, flashing in the light every time he made a slight gesture. He had a flushed face with piercing eyes under thick lashes.

He waved a hand toward the guards around him.

”Quickly! Set up the arrangements.”

Then he turned to the refugees and raised his chin, said out loud.

”His Majesty has granted rations for all of you. Line up neatly, and each shall take their share!”

The guards moved immediately, arranging chairs, tables, and containers for food and water. The man eased himself into a chair carefully positioned on a slightly raised platform. While one of the guards knelt next to him and fanned him off, the other held a huge umbrella above him. From where he sat, he could see everything around him with a content look.

In such an effective manner, the process started. Bowls of liquid porridge and pieces of bread which had become hard due to age were distributed. It did not taste good at all, yet the people ate it gratefully since it meant that they would have something to eat.

One of the guards went to the man and bowed slightly.

”Sir, why do you sit here in this intense heat? Let the lowly workers take care of this.”

The man waved a hand at him, his round face flushed slightly.

”No. For I do not want to create a negative impression in front of His Majesty.”

Others nearby murmured their agreement, praising his dedication. The guard stepped back with a nod.

Time passed slowly. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the camps and tents. By evening the once bustling crowd had quieted. Many returned to their shelters or rested against the walls. The man, exhausted from hours in the heat and the weight of attention, slumped back in his chair. The guard continued fanning him gently. The one with the umbrella still stood in place.

In one of the rows, a thin boy no more than six shuffled forward. His clothes were dirty and tattered, patches hanging loose from every sidw. His lips were cracked and bleeding slightly. His small hands were rough and calloused from too much work or too little care.

When his turn came, the server looked down at him.

”Where are your parents?”

The boy crouched a little lower, eyes on the ground.

”I... I don’t know.”

The server’s gaze lingered on the frail frame. Even if he was given a portion, the child looked too weak to survive long. Then a dark thought crossed the man’s mind, he could take this portion and sell it at a high price, just like he had done with others before. The temptation settled like a shadow in his chest.

He glanced briefly at the sleeping man above, still being fanned and shielded by his guards, completely indifferent to the suffering below. Then, with a subtle tilt of his head, he gestured to the nearby guards.

”Take him away,” he said softly in a casual tone.

The guards obeyed, stepping forward and pulling the boy from the line. The child’s little fingers struggled against their grip.

The crowd around them murmured, but no one dared to interfere. Eyes darted between the boy and the authority looming above. The server’s expression remained calm, betraying nothing of the cruelty written across his face.