Chapter 288: The Ruthless Corbin: The Heavenly God Emperor’s Chosen One

The first sensation Corbin knew was the biting cold. A raw, gnawing chill that seeped through his threadbare tunic and into his very bones. He huddled in a filthy alley in a nameless village of the Valorian Kingdom, his stomach a hollow, aching void. He was nothing. An orphan, ugly and forgettable, with a future that promised only more cold, more hunger, and a lonely, unmarked grave.

Then, the light came.

Not a physical light, but an explosion of golden runes and celestial knowledge that detonated within the core of his mind, his soul. A wave of power, ancient and immense, washed over him, a stark contrast to the miserable reality of his existence.

[System Synchronization Commencing… 10%… 50%… 100%]

[Synchronization Complete.]

[Welcome, Host, to the Heavenly Martial God System!]

Corbin’s eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. ’What… what was that?’

[The Heavenly Martial God System has chosen you, Corbin, as its vessel in this mortal realm. Your path to ultimate martial prowess, to godhood itself, begins now.]

A translucent screen, shimmering with golden light, materialized before his eyes, visible only to him. He stared at it, his heart hammering against his ribs, a wild, savage hope igniting within the cold emptiness of his soul. A system? A path to power? For him?

He fumbled through the mental commands, instinct guiding him. ’Status.’

[Name: Corbin]

[Level: 1]

[Rank: Novice Martialist (Initial Stage)]

[Strength: 3]

[Agility: 4]

[Stamina: 2]

[Willpower: 15 (Anomalously High)]

[Charm: 1 (Abysmal)]

[Skills: None]

[Cultivation Technique: None]

The stats were pathetic, a numerical representation of his miserable existence. Except for one. Willpower. The raw, stubborn refusal to die that had kept him alive through years of starvation and abuse. And the Charm stat… a cruel, objective confirmation of his own reflection. Ugly.

A savage grin stretched across his face, a terrifying expression on his unremarkable features. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. He had a path.

[New Quest Issued: A Humble Beginning]

[Objective: Join a recognized military or mercenary force.]

[Reward: +100 EXP, Basic Cultivation Manual: ’Flowing Qi Meditation’.]

The choice was simple. The local lord, Baron Slater, was always recruiting for his levy. The pay was garbage, the work dangerous, but it offered food, shelter, and most importantly… a chance to fight. A chance to kill. A chance to level up.

Corbin was, without question, the worst recruit in the Slater levy. He was weaker than the farm boys, slower than the trappers, and his ugly, sullen face made him an easy target for the barracks bullies.

“Look at rat-face over here,” sneered a burly recruit named Joric during sword practice. “Can barely lift his sword! You gonna fight demons with that, Corbin, or tickle ’em to death?”

Corbin said nothing. He just endured, his eyes burning with a cold, patient hatred. Every insult, every shove, every stolen piece of bread was fuel for the fire in his belly. He practiced the ’Flowing Qi Meditation’ every night, feeling the faintest trickle of energy begin to circulate through his body.

His chance came a week later. A small pack of Shadow Weavers, spider-like half-demons, had nested in a cave near the village, preying on livestock. Lord Slater himself, a man whose handsome features and natural charisma were a constant, grating reminder of everything Corbin was not, led a small detachment, including the new recruits, to clear them out.

Lord Slater was a true artist of combat. He was a Master Martialist, his movements fluid and precise. “Remember your training, men!” he called out, his voice calm and inspiring. “Slater Family Flowing Blade, First Form: ’River’s Gentle Cut’!” His sword danced, leaving shimmering arcs of light, decapitating a Shadow Weaver with effortless grace.

Corbin, however, fought like a cornered animal. He didn’t have grace. He had desperation and a System.

A weaver lunged at him, its multiple eyes gleaming. Joric, the bully, laughed, expecting to see rat-face torn apart.

But Corbin’s System flashed in his mind.

[Threat Detected! Optimal Evasion Path Calculated!]

He threw himself to the side, a clumsy roll that was just fast enough. The weaver’s legs scrabbled where he had been. As it turned, its attention on another soldier, Corbin surged up from the ground, his rusty sword held in a two-handed grip. He didn’t use a technique. He just screamed, a raw, wordless cry of rage and ambition, and plunged the blade deep into the creature’s soft underbelly.

Black ichor sprayed his face. The weaver shrieked and collapsed.

[Half-Demon Kill: Shadow Weaver (Level 4). +40 EXP.]

[Level Up! You have reached Level 2!]

[Skill Unlocked: Heavenly Strike (Basic) – A straightforward but powerful strike imbued with a small amount of system energy.]

A warmth spread through Corbin’s body, the pain from his bruises and the ache in his stomach momentarily forgotten. He felt… stronger. He looked at Joric, who was now staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. Corbin offered him a slow, cold smile, his face still splattered with the weaver’s black blood.

Later that evening, after the nest was cleared, Baroness Linette Slater arrived with a retinue of maids and healers to tend to the wounded. The moment Corbin saw her, his breath caught in his throat.

She was a vision of mature, voluptuous beauty. Perhaps in her late thirties, her body was a masterpiece of feminine curves. Her honey-blonde hair was woven into an intricate braid, her face was kind and beautiful, but it was her figure that ensnared Corbin’s gaze. Full, heavy breasts strained against the fine fabric of her elegant gown, her waist was surprisingly slender, flaring out to impossibly curvy hips and a magnificent, rounded backside that swayed with a captivating rhythm as she walked. She moved with the grace and confidence of a high-born lady, her very presence a testament to a life of pampered luxury.

Corbin felt a surge of raw, primal emotion – lust, so potent it was almost painful, mingled with a burning, bitter envy. ’She belongs to him?’ he thought, his gaze flicking to the handsome Lord Slater, who was now greeting his wife with a gentle kiss. ’That pretty-boy lord gets to own this… this goddess? While I rot in the dirt?’

[New Harem Quest Issued: The Unattainable Flower]

[Objective: Claim the body and soul of Baroness Linette Slater.]

[Reward: +50,000 EXP, High-Grade Cultivation Technique: ’Raging Tiger Soul Method’, Title: ’Lord’s Conqueror’.]

Corbin’s eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam entering them. The System had spoken. She would be his.

Corbin’s rise was brutal and swift. He took every dangerous patrol, volunteered for every suicide mission. He fought with a reckless ferocity that his superiors mistook for bravery. He wasn’t brave; he was just desperate to level up. With each kill, his stats increased, his skills sharpened. He mastered the ’Heavenly Strike’, then learned the ’Heavenly Guard’ defensive stance. He rose from a lowly recruit to a squad leader, then, after a particularly bloody skirmish where his predecessor conveniently died from a “stray” demonic arrow, he was promoted to Guard Captain. He had reached Level 20.

His new rank gave him access to the Slater Mansion grounds. The opportunity he had been waiting for.

He engineered an encounter with Baroness Linette in a secluded rose garden. She was tending to her prized moonpetal roses, her back to him, her magnificent ass swaying as she snipped away dead leaves.

Corbin took a deep breath, focusing on the ’Charm’ stat his System had grudgingly granted him through leveling. ’It’s at 15 now. Not great, but better than 1. It has to work.’

“Lady Linette,” he began, trying to make his voice sound smooth and charming. It came out slightly rougher than he intended.

Linette turned, startled. She offered him a polite, distant smile upon recognizing the fast-rising Guard Captain. “Captain Corbin. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I… I was just admiring the roses, My Lady,” Corbin stammered, his carefully rehearsed lines fleeing his mind. “But their beauty… it pales in comparison to yours. Even a lowly soldier like me can see that your radiance outshines the sun itself.”

Linette’s polite smile tightened slightly. The compliment was clumsy, overly effusive, and delivered with an unsettling intensity. “You are too kind, Captain,” she said, her tone becoming cooler. She turned back to her roses, a clear dismissal.

[Charm attempt: FAILED.]

[Target Affection: -10. Target perceives Host as ’gauche’ and ’unsettling’.]

Rage, cold and immediate, flooded Corbin’s veins. ’Failed? After all my effort? This noble bitch… she thinks she’s too good for me?’

He didn’t think. He acted.

He stepped forward, grabbing her arm. Linette cried out in surprise, whirling around. “Captain! What is the meaning of this? Unhand me at once!”

“You think you can just dismiss me?” Corbin snarled, his face contorted in a mask of fury, his earlier attempt at charm completely gone. “You think you’re so untouchable, you high-born whore?”

“You filthy peasant!” Linette shrieked, her eyes blazing with outrage. She tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist easily, his grip like iron. “How dare you! My husband will have you hanged for this!”

“Your husband isn’t here, is he?” Corbin growled, twisting her arm behind her back, forcing her against his body. He reveled in her gasp of pain, her terrified struggling. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her expensive perfume. “I’m going to show you what a real man is, Baroness. I’m going to fuck that noble pride right out of you.”

He dragged her, struggling and sobbing, into a dense thicket of rose bushes, ignoring the thorns that tore at their clothes and skin. He threw her onto a patch of soft moss, her elegant gown ripping, exposing the delicate lace of her chemise.

“No! Please! Stop!” she begged, tears streaming down her face.

He slapped her, a sharp, stinging blow that left a red mark on her pale cheek. “Shut up,” he commanded. He tore at her clothes, ripping the delicate fabrics with savage glee. He exposed her magnificent, voluptuous body – her large, heavy breasts, her slender waist, her impossibly curvy hips.

“Look at you,” he sneered, his eyes devouring her. “All that beauty, wasted on that soft-handed lord.” He grabbed her breasts, squeezing them roughly, making her cry out in pain. He slapped her round, perfect buttocks, his handprints stark against her pale skin. “You were made to be used, Linette. And I am going to use you.”

He positioned himself between her trembling legs and, ignoring her frantic pleas and struggles, he forced himself inside her. It was brutal, a violation born of rage and envy. She hated him, she cursed him, but he was too strong. He took her there, on the cold, damp ground of her own rose garden, his thrusts punishing, his dominance absolute. Her cries of pain slowly, horrifyingly, began to mingle with unwilling moans of pleasure as her body, despite her mind’s revulsion, responded to the raw, powerful stimulation. He had claimed her. And she knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was only the beginning of her nightmare.

This became Corbin’s dark routine. He used his position as Guard Captain to create opportunities, to corner Linette when she was alone. He would take her in empty storage rooms, in secluded alcoves of the library, even once in the stables, his thrusts rough and demanding. She lived in a constant state of terror, her hatred for him a burning coal in her heart. But she was trapped. He threatened her husband, her reputation, everything she held dear. She became his secret, unwilling slut.

The final betrayal came months later, during a major offensive against a fortified half-demon encampment led by a powerful Master-level commander. Lord Slater, noble and brave as ever, led the charge, his elite guards, including Captain Corbin, at his side.

The battle was fierce. Lord Slater engaged the half-demon commander, their blades clashing in a dazzling display of martial prowess. “For Jorailia! ’Slater Family Radiant Arc’!” Lord Slater’s sword glowed with a holy light, forcing the commander back.

Corbin was supposed to be guarding his lord’s flank. He saw his opportunity. As a demonic berserker charged at Slater’s exposed side, Corbin, who could have easily intercepted it, “stumbled,” his shield “slipping.”

“My Lord, look out!” Corbin yelled, a fraction too late.

The berserker’s massive axe slammed into Lord Slater’s side, shattering his armor, inflicting a mortal wound. Slater cried out, his sword faltering. The half-demon commander seized the moment, plunging its own jagged blade into Slater’s chest.

“NO!” Corbin roared, his voice filled with a perfect imitation of grief and rage. He launched himself at the now-wounded half-demon commander. “Heavenly Strike: Vengeance!” He poured all his system-enhanced power into the attack, his sword glowing with a faint golden light. He cut down the commander, who was already injured and overconfident from its victory against Slater.

Corbin returned to Slater Mansion a hero. The man who had avenged his fallen lord. Linette, upon hearing the news, collapsed, her grief genuine, but laced with a new, terrifying fear. She was now completely at his mercy.

Within a month, using his hero status and the power vacuum left by Slater’s death, Corbin, with a surprising amount of political cunning, maneuvered himself into marrying the “grieving” Baroness. It was a scandal, a common-born captain marrying his lord’s widow, but in the chaos of the war, with Corbin now hailed as the new hero of the region, few dared to openly oppose it. He became the new Baron Slater.

And he wasted no time in claiming his new possessions. He moved into the master chambers, into Linette’s bed. He impregnated her within the week, sealing his claim. He then turned his attention to the other beautiful women of the Slater household – a widowed cousin of Linette’s, several of her personal maids who were known for their beauty. He took them all, one by one, using a combination of threats, promises, and brute force. They became his secret harem, living in fear and reluctant submission under the same roof as their new master.

He publicly spoke of protecting the commoners from the exploitation of the nobility, a message that resonated with the downtrodden. But privately, his rule was even more tyrannical than the most decadent lord. He raised taxes, seized land, and even began acquiring slaves from war-torn regions, treating them with a casual cruelty that made even his most hardened guards flinch. His hypocrisy was absolute.

His power grew. He reached the peak of the Expert Martialist rank, then broke through to Master. It was during a diplomatic visit to the neighboring viscounty of Harvey that he met his next target. Viscountess Polly Harvey was a woman in her late twenties, her body still holding the firm plumpness of youth, her status as a recent widow making her seem… available. She rebuffed his clumsy, leering advances at a banquet. Corbin, enraged by the slight, cornered her in a secluded library later that night. His charm failed again, so he resorted to what he knew best: force. He raped her, leaving her sobbing and broken, another terrified woman now bound to his will through fear. He was Level 26 now.

His ambition, however, was not sated. At a regional council meeting, he saw Duchess Pamela Jenning. She was a vision of mature, aristocratic beauty, her power as the head of a major ducal house undeniable. She was easily Level 41, a true expert. He wanted her. He wanted her body, her title, her territory.

But she was too powerful, too well-protected for a direct assault. So, he began to scheme. He used his growing network of spies to gather information, to sow dissent. He framed her husband, the aging Duke Jenning, as a collaborator with a rival kingdom, forging documents, bribing witnesses. He used his newfound authority as Baron to publicly accuse the Duke of treason, presenting a carefully constructed case to the royal court.

The Duke was disgraced, stripped of his titles, and imprisoned. Corbin, the “hero” who had uncovered this “treason,” was “reluctantly” appointed as the new regent of the ducal territory, to “ensure its stability.” His first act as regent was to visit the now-vulnerable Duchess Pamela in her private chambers. He took her that very night, her furious curses and struggles only fueling his desire. He broke her, just as he had broken all the others, her powerful martial skills useless against his raw, system-enhanced strength and utter ruthlessness.

He was now, for all intents and purposes, a Duke, his power in the Valorian Kingdom second only to the King himself. He was a Grand Martialist, Level 55. And his harem of beautiful, terrified noblewomen grew with each new acquisition.

As he stood on the balcony of his newly acquired ducal palace, looking out over the lands he now controlled, his thoughts turned eastward. The Valorian Kingdom was small, weak. A Grand Martialist was considered a great expert here. But he had heard tales of the Celestial Dragon Empire, a land of Martial Emperors and ancient secrets.

’This kingdom is too small for my ambitions,’ Corbin thought, a cold smile on his face. ’But the Dragon Empire… now that is a prize worthy of a true Emperor.’

He checked his System.

[New Realm Advancement Quest Issued: The Grandmaster’s Trial]

[Objective: Defeat ten (10) separate individuals of the Grandmaster Martialist rank.]

[Condition: Victory must be achieved through superior combat technique and strategy. Host must gain a combat ’epiphany’ during at least one of these battles.]

[Reward: Ascension to Grandmaster Martialist Rank. Unlock: ’Heavenly Martial Domain’.]

Corbin scowled. Defeat ten Grandmasters? A rank higher than his own? And gain an ’epiphany’? That was based on luck and insight, not just grinding kills. The Valorian Kingdom barely had ten Grandmasters in total, and most were Royal Guard captains or reclusive old masters. Hunting them down would be difficult and politically suicidal.

’I need a bigger pond,’ he realized. ’The Dragon Empire… it will be teeming with experts. With challenges. With opportunities.’

But he couldn’t go yet. He needed to consolidate his power here first. To crush any remaining loyalists to the old Duke. To fully subjugate the beautiful, defiant Duchess Pamela. To bleed the Valorian Kingdom dry of its resources for his own use.

“First, I build my foundation here,” Corbin murmured to himself, his eyes gleaming with cold ambition. “I will send agents ahead. Spies. Merchants. To build an intelligence network within the Dragon Empire. To understand its powers, its weaknesses.” He would not make the same mistake twice. He would not walk into a new land blind.

“And then,” he whispered, his gaze turning back towards the inner chambers of the palace, where Duchess Pamela was likely weeping in rage and humiliation, “once my power here is absolute, once my network is in place… then I will go east. And I will show that ancient empire what true conquest looks like.” The journey of the hypocritical, ruthless, and utterly ambitious Heavenly Martial God’s chosen was far from over. It was just getting started.