Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Deacon Feng Lie’s command, sharp and cold as a winter wind, sliced through the sudden, shocked silence of the Dragon’s Maw.

”Kill the escorts! Take the cargo!”

His voice was the signal. The dam of civility, fragile as it was between the great sects, broke completely, unleashing a tidal wave of violence.

The battle began not as a duel, but as a slaughter.

From the high cliffs, the disciples of the Azure Sword Clan acted as one. Their movements were a symphony of deadly, synchronized grace.

”Skyfall Sword Net!” a leading inner sect disciple roared.

Dozens of them raised their spirit swords in unison. A brilliant, azure light erupted from their blades, their individual Sword Qi weaving together in the air above the canyon. The light coalesced, forming a massive, shimmering net of pure, cutting energy that descended upon the trapped caravan like the judgment of a wrathful sky god.

The mortal mercenaries looked up, their faces pale with terror, and screamed. The net fell, and the screams were cut short, replaced by the sickening sound of slicing flesh and the spatter of blood. The junior disciples of the Mystic Peak Sect frantically erected their own Qi barriers, but their individual defenses were like paper against the coordinated might of the Azure Sword Clan’s signature formation. Shields shattered, robes were torn, and cries of pain echoed as the net of blades bit deep.

Simultaneously, from another cliffside, Deacon Xiong of the Hundred Beast Manor let out a booming, guttural laugh that seemed to shake the very rocks.

”Go, my children! Feast!” he bellowed, smashing a beast-taming gourd against the ground.

A tide of corrupted, savage life poured forth.

A pack of Stone-Skinned Boars, their hides like granite and their tusks like daggers, charged down the steep incline, their hooves thundering, their enraged snorts echoing through the pass. They slammed into the already faltering line of Mystic Peak disciples with the force of an avalanche.

From the skies, a cloud of black descended. A flock of Screechwing Bats, their leathery wings blotting out the sliver of sky, their high-pitched cries a disorienting sonic assault, dove upon the panicked caravan guards.

And with a ground-shaking thud that cracked the very flagstones of the path, Deacon Xiong’s personal beast companion landed. It was a colossal Ironback Ape, easily twenty feet tall, its fur the color of iron filings, its back a solid plate of gnarled, metallic bone. Its eyes burned with a savage, red intelligence, and it beat its massive chest with its fists, a deafening roar of challenge erupting from its fanged maw.

”Ironback!” Deacon Xiong roared. ”Smash them!”

The ape obeyed, its massive fists, empowered by the Deacon’s own spiritual energy, crashing down upon the armored wagons, splintering the thick wood and iron as if they were matchsticks.

From the shadows of the opposite cliff, the disciples of the Silent Puppet Guild moved with an eerie, unsettling silence. Their leader, a slender figure in black known only as Deacon Kui, made a series of intricate hand gestures.

His puppets, standing silently beside him, sprang to life.

A dozen Steel-Threaded Assassins, humanoid puppets crafted from dark, polished metal, their limbs thin as wires and ending in razor-sharp blades, leaped from the cliffs. They moved with an unnatural, silent agility, their metallic bodies glinting as they descended upon the flanks of the Mystic Peak defenders, their blades a whirlwind of silent, efficient death.

Following them, moving with a heavier, more deliberate tread, was a massive Bronze Guardian. This puppet was a hulking brute of enchanted bronze, its body a fortress of overlapping plates, its fists the size of boulders. It moved to support the Ironback Ape, its task to systematically dismantle the caravan’s defenses.

And then came the alchemists.

Deacon Hua of the Crimson Pill Sect, a stern-faced woman with eyes as sharp as a scalpel, gave a curt nod to her disciples.

”Weaken them,” she commanded.

Vials of green and purple liquid arced through the air, shattering on the ground amidst the Mystic Peak disciples. Clouds of thick, bubbling Corrosive Mist erupted, eating through Qi barriers and armor with a horrifying sizzle. Puffs of fine, black Qi-Disruption Powder settled on the defenders, making their spiritual energy flow sluggish and chaotic.

It was a perfectly coordinated, overwhelming assault. The Mystic Peak disciples, caught completely by surprise and hopelessly outnumbered, were being systematically slaughtered. Their desperate cries, the clash of steel, the roars of beasts, and the explosions of alchemical concoctions all blended into a terrifying symphony of destruction.

Senior Brother Wei Chen watched the decimation of his forces, his arrogant face now a mask of shocked, incandescent rage. His pride, his authority, his very identity as the invincible commander of this ”milk run” mission, had been shattered in a matter of seconds.

”FENG LIE!” he screamed, his voice a raw, animalistic roar of pure fury. His Foundation Establishment aura, powerful and thick, erupted from him, a golden-brown light that pulsed with the steady, unyielding power of the Earth element.

He ignored the lesser deacons, ignored the chaos. His eyes, burning with hatred, were fixed on the mocking figure of the Azure Sword Clan’s Deacon high above.

He stomped his foot, and the very ground beneath him cracked. ”Mountain Sundering Strike!”

His high-grade spirit sword, the ’Mountain’s Heart Blade’, glowed with a heavy, earthen light. He didn’t fly. He launched himself upwards like a cannonball, propelled by a burst of raw Qi, his sword aimed directly at Feng Lie.

”You arrogant fool,” Feng Lie sneered from his perch. He didn’t even move to intercept. ”Deacon Hua! Deacon Xiong! Keep this rabid dog entertained for me.”

Wei Chen’s charge was met not by one, but three figures.

Feng Lie descended with the grace of a swooping hawk, his own late-stage Foundation Establishment aura a sharp, cutting wind. Deacon Hua of the Crimson Pill Sect, her mid-stage power a swirling cloud of green, poisonous Qi, moved to his right. Deacon Xiong, also mid-stage, landed with a heavy thud on his left, his personal Ironback Ape landing beside him with a ground-shaking impact.

”Three against one?” Wei Chen snarled, his momentum unbroken. ”You dishonorable cowards!”

”All is fair in the pursuit of wealth, Senior Brother Wei,” Deacon Hua replied, her voice a cold, melodious chime as she flung a handful of black, thorny seeds at him. ”Thorned Poison Ivy Fetters!”

The seeds exploded in mid-air, sprouting into thick, barbed vines that shot towards Wei Chen, aiming to entangle his limbs.

Wei Chen grunted, his left hand flashing. A small, octagonal shield, its surface resembling a tortoise’s shell, appeared before him. The ’Earthen Shell Aegis’.

The poison ivy vines slammed against the shield, their thorns screeching against its surface, but they could not penetrate its powerful defensive array.

At the same time, Deacon Xiong commanded his Ironback Ape. ”Earthshatter Fist!”

The colossal beast roared, its massive fist, glowing with a yellow, earthen light, smashing towards Wei Chen’s side.

Wei Chen’s ’Swiftwind Boots’, a low-grade evasive artifact, flared with a faint green light. He sidestepped with a surprising burst of speed, the ape’s fist missing him by inches and slamming into the ground, creating a small crater.

He had weathered their first combined assault. But Feng Lie was already upon him.

”Azure Gale Sword Technique!” Feng Lie’s spirit sword was a blur of motion, a dozen sharp, wind-aspected sword images descending on Wei Chen from all sides.

Wei Chen roared, his Mountain’s Heart Blade meeting the assault. His sword style was the opposite of Feng Lie’s—heavy, direct, powerful. Each of his blocks was a solid, immovable defense, a miniature mountain against Feng Lie’s cutting storm.

The four Foundation Establishment experts were locked in a furious battle, their clashing energies sending shockwaves through the canyon. Wei Chen was a powerhouse. His late-stage cultivation, combined with his multiple top-grade spirit artifacts, allowed him to incredibly hold his own against three opponents of a similar realm. His Earthen Shell Aegis blocked Deacon Hua’s constant barrage of poisons and debilitating pellets. His Swiftwind Boots allowed him to evade the Ironback Ape’s devastating physical blows. And his own powerful Earth-elemental techniques, like the ’Crushing Boulder Fist’, kept Feng Lie’s aggressive swordplay at bay.

He was a fortress, seemingly impregnable. But every block, every dodge, every powerful strike, consumed a vast amount of his Spiritual Energy. He was a burning sun, brilliant and fierce, but his fuel was finite. And his opponents knew it.

While Wei Chen fought his desperate, glorious battle, Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan were engaged in a far more pragmatic, far less heroic, struggle.

They were positioned near one of the central wagons, the one Wei Chen had indicated contained the precious Jade Soul Sand. Their objective was not to save the caravan, not to avenge their fallen sect mates. Their objective, in this moment of absolute chaos, was brutally simple: survive.

”Jian, they’re everywhere!” Yue Lingshan’s voice was tense but steady as she stood back-to-back with him, her Verdant Willow Blade held in a defensive posture. ”Wei Chen... he’s losing ground!”

”Focus on our position, Yue Lingshan!” Wang Jian’s voice was a cold, sharp anchor in the storm of violence. ”Wei Chen made his choice when he ignored my warning. We make ours now. Hold the line.”

A Steel-Threaded Assassin puppet, its bladed limbs a whirlwind of silent metal, scuttled towards them, its movements jerky and unnatural.

Yue Lingshan didn’t wait for it to reach them. She threw down a small, circular formation plate from her storage pouch.

”Four Symbols Defensive Ward!”

A shimmering, multi-colored barrier of light, far more stable and complex than her old Jade Water Shield, erupted around them, enclosing them and their designated wagon in a protective dome.

The puppet’s bladed limbs slammed against the barrier with a series of high-pitched screeches. The ward flickered, but it held.

From the other side, a Stone-Skinned Boar charged, its tusks aimed to shatter their defense.

Wang Jian stepped forward, his expression impassive. He didn’t waste his Qi on a powerful spell. He simply met the boar’s charge, his Glacial Bite a streak of icy light. He didn’t try to stop the beast’s momentum. Instead, at the last possible second, he sidestepped, his blade lashing out in a brutally efficient slash aimed at the boar’s eyes.

The boar shrieked in pain, its charge veering off course as it crashed blindly into the side of another wagon.

More threats were coming. Two Azure Sword Clan disciples, both at the Eleventh Stage, saw their isolated position and charged, their swords glowing with sharp Qi.

”I’ll handle them,” Wang Jian said calmly. He met their charge, his Glacial Bite a wall of impenetrable, icy steel. He fought with a cold, terrifying efficiency, his movements economical, his parries perfect. He was not fighting to kill them quickly; he was fighting to conserve his energy, to defend their small pocket of relative safety.

Yue Lingshan, her hands weaving graceful patterns in the air, became the defensive core of their position. She used her Nightwind Terror Fan, sending out focused gusts of wind that deflected incoming alchemical vials from the Crimson Pill disciples on the cliffs. Her other hand moved, her Azure Serpent Strike lashing out like a living whip, entangling the leg of a snarling Shadow Cat from the Hundred Beast Manor that tried to leap over their barrier, pulling it down into the path of a charging Mystic Peak junior who was promptly mauled.

They were an island of calm, deadly efficiency in a sea of chaotic slaughter.

The battle raged. Wei Chen, for all his power and artifacts, was beginning to falter. The constant, three-pronged assault was draining his Qi at an alarming rate. He was panting now, his movements a fraction slower.

Feng Lie saw it. ”He’s weakening! Press the attack!”

Feng Lie’s Azure Sword flashed, a brilliant arc of wind-infused Qi that finally bypassed Wei Chen’s guard, leaving a deep gash on his shoulder.

”Argh!” Wei Chen grunted in pain.

As he staggered back, Deacon Xiong’s Ironback Ape saw its chance. It let out a deafening roar and brought both of its massive fists down on Wei Chen’s Earthen Shell Aegis.

CRACK!

The tortoise shell-patterned shield, a top-grade defensive artifact, spiderwebbed with cracks, then shattered into a thousand pieces of golden-brown light.

Wei Chen coughed up a mouthful of blood, the backlash from his destroyed artifact sending a shockwave through his meridians.

Deacon Hua of the Crimson Pill Sect smiled cruelly. She tossed a single, black, innocuous-looking pellet at his feet. It burst into a puff of black smoke.

”Meridian Corrosion Poison!”

Wei Chen’s eyes widened in horror as he inhaled the smoke. He felt a fire ignite in his spiritual veins, his Qi flow becoming chaotic, painful. ”You... treacherous witch!” he gasped.

He was defeated. Critically injured, his Qi in disarray, his best defensive artifact destroyed. He fell to his knees, his Mountain’s Heart Blade clattering to the ground.

With their commander fallen, the last vestiges of resistance from the Mystic Peak disciples crumbled. They were routed, cut down one by one by the overwhelming forces of the four sects.

The attackers, with triumphant roars, swarmed the caravan, their focus now entirely on the prize. They smashed open the wagons, revealing the glittering piles of raw Star-Vein Meteoric Iron and the heavy, sand-like crates of precious Jade Soul Sand.

Wang Jian saw it all. The battle was lost. Now was the time for their own victory.

He grabbed Yue Lingshan’s arm, his grip firm.

”Yue Lingshan, the caravan is lost. Wei Chen’s arrogance and the sect’s complacency led to this. Our lives are more valuable. We are leaving.”

His words were cold, pragmatic, devoid of any sentiment for their fallen sect mates. Yue Lingshan, her heart pounding, looked at the scenes of slaughter, at the triumphant faces of their rivals, and she felt a chill. But she nodded, her trust in him absolute.

His powerful, profound spiritual sense, the secret weapon of his ancient soul, unfurled like an invisible, all-seeing net. It swept over the chaotic battlefield, ignoring the powerful, flaring auras of the victorious Foundation Establishment Deacons. It ignored the swarms of Qi Condensation disciples now greedily looting the wagons.

His sense pushed outwards, scanning the perimeter, probing the shimmering Sealing Array that trapped them. It searched for a flaw, a weakness, a blind spot in the enemy’s encirclement.

His mind’s eye flew over the battlefield, a god looking down upon the struggles of ants. And then, he found it.

At the absolute rear of the attacking force, positioned on a small, rocky outcrop that provided a good vantage point but was strategically unimportant, was the weakest point in their formation. It was guarded by only a handful of scattered, low-level outer sect disciples from the Azure Sword Clan, their attention focused more on the looting than on their guard duty.

And among them, a lone, conflicted figure stood slightly apart, his Ninth Stage Qi Condensation aura a flickering candle in a storm. He was watching the broken wagons with an expression of intense, hungry determination.

Wang Jian’s spiritual sense brushed past the figure, and a jolt of recognition, of profound amusement, shot through him.

He didn’t know the boy’s name. But he recognized the aura. The stubborn resilience. The faint, almost imperceptible thread of destiny that clung to him like a second skin.

It was the protagonist. The boy from the Cinderwaste Caldera.

Wang Jian’s lips curved into a cold, calculating smile.

’There,’ he thought, his plan solidifying in an instant. ’That is our way out.’