The sun was dying above Golden Reed City, spilling its last crimson light across rooftops of tiled jade and banners of silk. The city glittered with wealth, but at the western gate, among the refuse and dust, a single boy lay broken.
Li Fan.
A servant once — now discarded like a rag soaked in someone else's sin. Blood clung to the corner of his lips. His breath came shallow and uneven. The laughter of guards still rang in his skull, sharp and cruel, blending with the faint chatter of merchants in the distance.
He tried to move. Pain answered him with fire. His ribs throbbed, his arms trembled. Every inch of his body screamed rebellion against the idea of rising. He looked at his hands — calloused, bruised, trembling — hands that had spent years scrubbing floors, polishing jade cups, serving arrogant young masters who never learned his name.
His crime was theft.
They said he stole a spirit stone. The smallest one in the Qiu family's treasury, barely worth half a bowl of rice. The accusation had come swift, the verdict swifter. When the steward asked who had been near the storage room, the young master's finger pointed straight at him.
"It's him. Li Fan stole it."
That was all it took. No evidence, no question, no mercy. The guards dragged him out before the words had even left the boy's lips. A dozen fists, one boot to the stomach, and then darkness.
Now here he was, bleeding into the dirt, watching the sky turn red as if Heaven itself were mocking him.
He remembered the moment he begged the steward. "Please, I didn't steal it."
The man hadn't even looked at him. "A servant without honesty is like a dog without a leash. Get out."
The world, it seemed, had decided that Li Fan no longer belonged in it.
He crawled to the side of the street, trying not to draw attention. People passed by: merchants draped in gold-thread robes, cultivators with blades at their waists, and peddlers shouting about talismans that could keep spirits away. None of them looked at him twice.
To them, he wasn't even human anymore. Just another piece of trash in the gutter.
His stomach twisted with hunger. He hadn't eaten since morning. The beating had emptied him — not just of food, but of hope. He had no silver, no shelter, and no family to return to. The only thing he had left was the ache of injustice.
He leaned against a wall, closing his eyes. The city smelled of incense and spice, but here in the alleys it smelled of rot and damp earth. Somewhere nearby, a rat scurried. Someone laughed drunkenly. Life moved on, uncaring.
Li Fan lifted his head, staring at the fading light. "So this is what poverty tastes like," he muttered to no one. His voice cracked, dry and bitter. "Heaven, you have a cruel sense of humor."
He thought about leaving the city, maybe finding work in the outer villages. But what could a beaten servant do? The world of cultivators belonged to the strong and the rich. The weak were decorations at best, obstacles at worst.
He laughed softly. It hurt to do so. "Maybe I should've stolen that stone. At least then I'd have had a meal before dying."
His vision swam. The cold was settling in fast. He drew his knees close, curling like a child. His body shook, whether from pain or from the night wind he couldn't tell. He was slipping toward that gray place between waking and nothingness when something strange happened.
A sound.
Not from the world around him — but from inside his mind. A flat, mechanical tone, utterly emotionless.
[System Activated. Poverty Level: Absolute.]
Li Fan froze. For a moment, he wondered if he'd gone insane. His eyes darted around the alley, searching for whoever spoke. But there was no one. Just shadows, trash, and the faint light from a paper lantern.
The voice came again, calm as water.
[Scanning host... Physical condition: critical. Social standing: nonexistent. Dignity: questionable.]
He blinked. "What… what is this?" he whispered. "Who's talking?"
[System initialization complete. Congratulations, Host. You have achieved the lowest measurable state of existence.]
A weak laugh escaped his lips. "Congratulations? On being worthless?"
[Affirmative. System designation: Heavenly Pauper System. Purpose: guiding Host toward transcendence through poverty.]
Li Fan stared at the air, as if it might answer him. "Transcendence through poverty? Are you mocking me too now?"
[Negative. Mockery is beyond this unit's parameters. Objective: assist Host in mastering the Dao of Lack.]
He rubbed his temple, half-delirious. "The Dao of Lack. Perfect. So Heaven finally sends me something — and it's a cosmic accountant that tracks my suffering."
No response came. Only the faint hum of the system settling in his mind, like a heartbeat made of metal.
Li Fan sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Fine. Whatever hallucination you are, at least you talk to me. That's more than anyone else today."
He closed his eyes again. The hunger gnawed at him, but the exhaustion was stronger. His consciousness began to fade.
Then another sound.
[Ding. Quest generated.]
He sat up slightly, groaning. "A quest?"
[Quest: Survive until dawn. Reward: Basic status appraisal. Failure: Permanent termination.]
He blinked. "Survive until dawn? That's… that's your quest?"
[Affirmative.]
He laughed quietly, a hoarse, broken sound. "You're telling me I need to stay alive for a few hours. That's it?"
[Survival rate estimate: 43%.]
"Forty-three percent?!" He coughed, shaking his head. "You really know how to inspire confidence."
[Motivational parameter not found. Recommendation: Acquire heat source or shelter to increase survival probability.]
He looked around. The alley offered nothing but shadows and a pile of rotting crates. The streets outside were full of people who would rather kick him than help. "Heat source, huh?" he muttered. "Should I go ask the Qiu family to light me on fire?"
Still, he forced himself to move. His legs felt like lead, but he crawled out of the alley. The streetlamps were being lit one by one, glowing with faint spiritual energy. Lanterns hung from strings, painting the air with orange warmth.
Li Fan approached a food stall. The smell of rice porridge made his stomach twist in agony. He had no money. But his hands, clumsy and shaking, reached toward a discarded bowl someone had left on a crate. There was a spoonful of porridge left inside.
He hesitated only a moment before scooping it into his mouth. It was cold, sour, and tasted like ashes, but to him it was divine.
[Ding. Action registered: Consume leftover scraps. +1 Endurance.]
He froze mid-chew. "Wait—did you just… reward me for eating trash?"
[Affirmative. System recognizes acts of survival consistent with the Dao of Lack. Endurance increased.]
Li Fan almost choked on his laughter. "Heaven truly is generous! I've found the one cultivation system that rewards being pathetic."
The stall owner shouted when he saw him. "Hey! Beggar! Get away from that bowl!"
Li Fan ducked instinctively and stumbled back into the alley, clutching his side. Pain surged again, but he was laughing through it now — wild, disbelieving laughter that echoed against the walls.
He collapsed beside the crates again, gasping for breath. "So this is my fate. To cultivate by suffering."
[Affirmative. Suffering refines the soul. Hunger sharpens the mind. Cold tempers the will.]
He stared at the sky — a sliver of darkness framed between rooftops. "And what happens if I die?"
[Then Host achieves ultimate enlightenment in the Dao of Nothing.]
He groaned. "You're impossible."
For a moment, silence returned. The city hummed quietly beyond the alley. Somewhere, a temple bell rang. The wind brushed past him, carrying the faint scent of incense.
He felt strangely calm. Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps exhaustion. But there was something almost comforting in knowing that even if the heavens had abandoned him, something still acknowledged his existence — even if it was just a strange, sarcastic system.
The hunger dulled. His body felt light. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wall.
He didn't dream of revenge or wealth or glory. Not yet. He only dreamed of surviving one more night.
As the hours passed, he drifted between sleep and waking. He thought of the Qiu family, of their marble halls and silken robes. He wondered if they were still laughing about the servant who "stole" from them. Perhaps they were drinking wine over the story.
He smiled faintly. "Laugh while you can," he whispered. "Even worms can crawl their way to heaven."
[Dawn approaching. Quest progress: 92%. Host remains alive. Remarkable.]
He blinked awake. The sky beyond the alley had turned gray-blue. Birds were calling. He had survived.
[Ding. Quest complete. Reward granted: Basic status appraisal unlocked.]
A small window shimmered before his eyes, clear and bright as morning dew.
Name: Li Fan
Age: 17
Cultivation: None
Status: Starving, Injured, Cold
Potential: Undefined
Blessing: Poverty Level — Absolute
Li Fan stared at the words. "Undefined potential," he murmured. "I'll take that as a compliment."
[Note: Potential may develop through consistent adversity. Continue experiencing hardship to unlock growth.]
He sighed, smiling helplessly. "So… to grow stronger, I need to keep suffering."
[Correct.]
He looked at the rising sun. The warmth touched his face, gentle and soft, almost forgiving. For the first time in his life, the light didn't feel like mockery. It felt like a promise.
Maybe Heaven hadn't abandoned him. Maybe it had simply chosen the cruelest possible path for his ascension.
He pushed himself upright, body trembling but alive. The city was waking around him — merchants opening stalls, cultivators striding through the mist, beggars already staking out corners. He blended into the crowd like a shadow, invisible yet quietly burning.
He didn't know what this "Heavenly Pauper System" truly was. He didn't know why it had chosen him. But he knew one thing: as long as it spoke, he wasn't done yet.
He looked up at the brightening sky and let out a hoarse laugh. "If this is a dream," he said softly, "then let me never wake up."
The system hummed faintly, as if acknowledging him.
[Poverty acknowledged. Path to transcendence begins.]
And with that, the boy who had lost everything took his first step into a world where even misery could become a weapon.