Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Wang Jian watched Lianhua as she lay in the dim light of the cave, her gaze fixed on the rocky ceiling, her face a mask of hollow, empty despair. He had let her stew in that hopelessness for a long, quiet moment. He needed her at her absolute lowest.

”Just... just kill me,” she whispered again, her voice a dry, broken rasp. ”Please, boy. It is the only mercy you can show me now.”

Wang Jian shook his head, his expression a perfect picture of sad, respectful refusal.

”I did not save you just to become your executioner, Sect Mistress,” he said, his voice gentle. ”I couldn’t face Junior Sister Ruyan. I saved you for her, not to become the one who takes her Teacher’s life. She would never, ever forgive me.”

Lianhua let out a bitter, broken chuckle that turned into a raw, painful cough. ”Then... then you are a fool, boy. A sentimental fool. You saved a... a walking corpse.”

She struggled, her body trembling with a weakness that was humiliating to her. With a pained groan, she managed to prop herself up on one elbow. The movement was agonizing.

”Then... if you will not grant me death... grant me this one, final request,” she panted, her free hand fumbling with the rings on her fingers. They were high-grade interspatial rings, ones that Fu Yan, in his lecherous, triumphant haste, had completely overlooked.

She pulled them from her fingers and held them out, her hand trembling violently. ”Take... take these.”

Wang Jian looked at the rings, feigning confusion. ”Sect Mistress? What are these?”

”My... my legacy,” she begged, pushing them towards him, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading light. ”If you won’t kill me... then at least do this. Deliver these to Ruyan. Please. She... she is the last hope for the true Crimson Pill Sect now.”

Wang Jian’s curiosity, and his greed, was piqued, but he kept his face a mask of humble refusal. ”Sect Mistress, I cannot. These are your personal artifacts...”

”They are useless to me!” she snapped, her voice cracking. ”Take them! One ring holds the true pill legacies of our Sect’s Founder. All of them. Not the incomplete, public versions in the library. The real ones.”

Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes darting around the empty cave as if Fu Yan could still hear her. ”The other... the other has an incomplete, ancient artifact refining legacy our Founder discovered. But more... it has the method. The method to locate, and to control... the ’Crimson Dragon Cauldron’.”

Wang Jian’s inner thoughts lit up. ’The Crimson Dragon Cauldron! That’s what Fu Yan was screaming about! The sect’s ultimate treasure. An Earth-grade cauldron, by the sound of it... a true alchemist’s divine artifact. The things I could refine with that... the pills I could make...’

He had to force himself to maintain his righteous persona. He gently, but firmly, pushed her trembling hands back towards her.

”I cannot accept these, Sect Mistress,” he said, his voice filled with fake sincerity. ”They belong to the Sect Mistress. And you... you are still the Sect Mistress.”

Lianhua let out that terrible, broken chuckle again. ”A Sect Mistress with no cultivation? A cripple? Stop, boy. I am not a fool. I know my condition best. My dantian is not just damaged; it is shattered. My meridians are not just blocked; they are dust.”

She glared at him, her despair giving her a moment of sharp, bitter clarity. ”That ’Meridian Nail’ Fu Yan used... it’s a soul-grade artifact. It’s designed to permanently destroy a cultivator’s foundation. Irreversibly.”

She sagged back, her strength gone. ”I am finished,” she whispered, her voice hollow. ”Useless. Unless... unless you have a legendary Eighth Grade Great Spirit Rejuvenating Pill hidden in your robes? Something even Nascent Soul monarchs would kill for?”

She scoffed, a dry, painful sound. ”I thought not. So please... just take the rings to Ruyan. And leave me here to die.”

Wang Jian let the silence hang, letting her despair reach its absolute peak. Then, he smiled. It was a gentle, almost hesitant, reassuring smile that hid the wolfish, triumphant grin in his heart.

”An Eighth Grade pill? No, Sect Mistress,” he admitted softly. ”I’m afraid I don’t have anything like that.”

He paused, letting her hopes crash one last time.

”But... perhaps there is another way.”

Lianhua’s head, which had fallen back in defeat, snapped up. Her eyes, which were dead and hollow, narrowed with a tiny, dangerous spark. ”What... what did you say? What ’other way’? Stop... stop giving me false hope, boy. It is cruel.”

”I am not,” he said, his voice earnest. ”I told you I was here as a guest. But I did not tell you everything. I have a... unique constitution. A fortuitous encounter in my youth... it gave me a certain affinity for life energy. A profound one.”

He stepped closer, into the soft light of the luminous pearls. ”It is hard to explain,” he said. ”It is always easier to show.”

He raised his right hand. He didn’t unleash his full, terrifying power. That would be foolish. He just let a single, controlled wisp of his unique energy gather on his fingertip.

It was a brilliant, vibrant, emerald-green wisp of pure, unblemished life, laced with the faint, shimmering motes of starlight from his Stellar Qi. The small wisp of energy seemed to sing with life. The very air in the stale, dusty cave suddenly felt warmer, fresher, cleaner. The faint traces of moss on the damp walls seemed to brighten in its presence.

Lianhua’s eyes, the eyes of a master alchemist and a Core Formation expert, widened in utter, stunned disbelief. Even crippled, her knowledge was vast.

”That... that’s...” she gasped, her voice trembling. ”That is... Heavenly Wood Essence! And it’s so pure! Incredibly pure! But... but there’s something else mixed with it... another power... a... a life force I have never sensed before... It’s… it’s so potent! It’s... it’s almost divine!”

Wang Jian smiled modestly at her reaction, her shock was exactly what he wanted. ”I call it the Verdant Eternal Spring Essence,” he explained, giving it his prepared, slightly altered name to protect his true secrets. ”It... it has remarkable healing properties.”

He leaned in, his voice a soft, hypnotic, and irresistible promise. ”I believe... I can repair your meridians, Sect Mistress. I believe I can undo the damage from that needle. Not all at once, and... and it will be difficult, very difficult, for both of us. But I truly believe... it is possible.”

A tiny, fragile, almost painful spark of hope ignited in Lianhua’s dead eyes. Her breath hitched. Her hand, the one not holding the rings, reached out, as if to touch the glowing wisp of energy.

”You... you could... really? Restore me?” she whispered, the words trembling with a hope she hadn’t dared to feel. ”After the Soul-Severing Meridian Nail?”

”I can try,” he said, his voice a mask of pure, humble sincerity. ”Please, Sect Mistress. Allow me. Let me at least try.”

He reached out, his hand hovering over her trembling, outstretched one.

She stared at his hand. This young man... this friend of Ruyan’s... this stranger who had appeared from nowhere. Was he her only chance? Her only path to vengeance?

She made her choice. She slowly, agonizingly, extended her hand.

He took it. His grip was warm, firm, and respectful. He made sure to hold her by the wrist, at a normal, professional, medical pulse point. He was a healer. A gentleman.

He closed his eyes, feigning a look of deep, pained concentration.

Then, he infused a tiny, carefully controlled stream of his Stellar Qi—to act as a structural guide—and his VerdDant Essence—to provide the life force—into her body.

The moment the energy entered her, Lianhua gasped, a sharp, choked, agonizing sound.

She felt it.

The cold, dead, hollow void inside her, the place where her ocean of power used to be, suddenly felt a tiny, agonizing trickle of warmth. It was a pain so intense it was almost pleasure, the feeling of frozen, frostbitten, long-dead limbs coming back to life. It was excruciating.

And it was wonderful.

She could feel... something. Deep inside her shattered, dusty meridian channels. The broken, pulverized ends... they were twitching. They were reaching for each other, like tiny, starving rootlets, drawn by this impossible, vibrant, life-giving energy. It was working.

Wang Jian watched her face contort in a mask of pain and ecstatic, dawning hope.

’It’s working perfectly,’ his inner voice was cold and satisfied. ’She’s desperate. She’s latched onto this. She will accept anything now to keep this feeling. She’s mine.’

He carefully, meticulously, throttled the healing output. He could probably reconnect her main channels in a few days if he went all out, but that was stupid. A healed Core Formation expert was a threat. A grateful cripple was an asset.

’This has to be slow. Painful. She needs to crave this healing. She needs to rely on me, and only me, for it. Every single day. She needs to associate me with this feeling, with the return of her power.’

He set his immediate target. ’I won’t heal her back to Core Formation. Not yet. Maybe never. Far too dangerous. She’d be too hard to control. No. I’ll bring her back to... let’s say, Seventh Stage Qi Condensation. Strong enough to walk around, to have hope, to fight for her ’vengeance’ against Fu Yan. But weak enough to be utterly, completely dependent on me for every step, for every bit of progress. A queen in name, but my puppet in reality.’

After just a few short minutes of this initial, exploratory probing, he pulled his hand back with a sharp, theatrical gasp.

He stumbled back a step, breathing heavily, his brow covered in a sheen of (fake) sweat. ”It... it is more damaged... than I ever imagined,” he panted, making his voice sound strained, weak. ”Fu Yan... that animal. He didn’t just break your meridians; he... he pulverized them! The necrotic energy... it’s everywhere!”

Lianhua didn’t notice his acting. She was still lost in the faint, lingering warmth, the memory of that feeling. The hope.

”But... but I felt it!” she said, her voice desperate, clutching his arm with her weak hand. ”It was working! I felt it! Don’t stop!”

”It was,” he agreed, wiping his brow with a trembling hand. ”But... it will be a very arduous, very long-term process, Sect Mistress. The... the energy it takes from me... it’s immense. I can’t... I can’t do it all at once.”

Lianhua looked at him, this young, handsome man who was now panting, seemingly exhausted from just a few minutes of work, all for her sake. Her heart, which she had thought was broken and dead, filled with a wave of desperate, overwhelming gratitude.

”It’s… it’s a miracle,” she whispered, fresh tears of hope, not despair, now rolling down her face. ”A true miracle... Young man... Wang Jian... if you can truly do this... if you can restore me... I... I will owe you more than just my life. I will owe you my vengeance. Anything you ask. Anything.”

’Anything?’ Wang Jian’s inner wolf smiled. ’I’ll hold you to that.’

Wang Jian let himself ”catch his breath” for a moment, then put on a serious, professional, almost scholarly expression. ”Sect Mistress,” he began, his tone grave, ”we must discuss the procedure. To continue... it’s not as simple as holding your hand.”

”What... what do you mean?” she asked, her newfound hope instantly tinged with a new, nervous fear.

”Your meridians aren’t just blocked,” he explained, his face a mask of ’difficult’ concentration. ”They are shattered. Everywhere. All over your body. The blockages from the shadow poison, the physical breaks from that needle... they are severe, especially around your core spiritual channels.”

He continued, laying the groundwork for his true goal. ”If I just push this Verdant Essence in from a single point, like your wrist... it will go wild. It’ll be uncontrolled. It will follow the path of least resistance, healing the small, insignificant channels while ignoring the vital, shattered ones. It might even create new, worse blockages, or... or cause your body to tear itself apart from the inside out with uncontrolled, cancerous life energy.”

”Then... what must be done?” she asked, her voice trembling.

”I must guide the energy,” he said, his voice firm, ”manually. Through every single major meridian channel. I have to... physically touch the key acupoints along those channels... to use my own body as a conduit, to force the energy where it needs to go, to guide it past the breaks, to ensure it doesn’t run wild and cause more damage.”

Lianhua’s mind, her centuries of knowledge as a cultivator and an alchemist, instantly understood his meaning. A faint, uncharacteristic blush, the first in centuries, rose on her pale, dirt-streaked cheeks.

She knew exactly where the major meridian channels and key acupoints were. On the shoulders, yes. On the back, along the spine. But the most critical ones... the ones that connected directly to the dantian... they were on the lower abdomen. The ones for the heart and lungs... they were on the sternum, directly between the breasts. And the main leg channels... they were on the inner thighs.

”That... that is...” she stammered, her voice weak. ”That is highly... improper.”

Wang Jian immediately looked away, as if he himself were deeply embarrassed by the very suggestion. ”Sect Mistress, I... I know. Believe me, it is not a request I make lightly. But... it is the only way.”

He put the soft, gentle, and utterly damning ultimatum to her. ”If... if you prefer not to, I understand. Completely. I will respect your decision. But... the healing... it will be impossible otherwise.”

The choice was laid bare before her. Her pride. Her modesty. Her dignity, the last thing she had left.

Or... her vengeance. Her life. The return of her power.

She stared at her useless, trembling hands. She thought of Fu Yan’s leering, triumphant, disgusting face. She thought of his vile, repulsive proposition. She thought of him sitting on her throne, claiming her sect, her legacy, her cauldron.

Her choice was not a choice at all.

She took a shaky, ragged breath and closed her eyes, a single tear of humiliation rolling down her temple. ”Do... do what you must, Wang Jian. I... I trust you. You are Ruyan’s... you are Ruyan’s friend. You are... my savior.”

Wang Jian’s inner monologue was a single, triumphant word: ’Bingo.’

He approached her, his expression one of pure, professional focus. ”Very well. Please, try to relax. This will... this will take some time.”

He began. He kept it relatively modest at first, as he had planned. ”I will start with the upper channels. The blockages in your shoulders from the impact are severe.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, over her torn, blood-stained robes. He could feel the heat of her skin, the delicate, perfect bones beneath.

”Now, the back,” he murmured, his voice a low, clinical sound. ”The wound from that shadow serpent... it has left a deep, toxic blockage that is impeding everything.” He gently helped her sit up slightly, moving his hands to her back. His fingers, ”by necessity,” had to splay wide to cover the acupoints, and they ”accidentally” brushed against the heavy, soft, magnificent side-curves of her breasts.

He could feel their impossible softness, their weight, even through the fabric.

Lianhua flinched at the intimate, enclosing touch, her whole body tensing, but she didn’t stop him.

He then moved back to her front. ”Now... the most difficult part,” he said, his voice strained with ’effort’. ”The blockage near your heart meridian is the most severe. It is... tangled with the poison and the shock from your cauldron breaking. I must be... extremely precise.”

He placed his hand firmly on her upper chest, on her sternum, his fingers spread wide. His palm was just above the deep, magnificent, shadowed valley of her cleavage. His fingers, splayed as they were, were mere inches from the upper swell of her massive, heavy breasts. He could feel the heat radiating from them, smell the faint, womanly, sweat-and-blood scent of her skin.

Ltranflina flinched again, harder this time, her breath hitching in her throat. A strange, unfamiliar, and deeply unsettling sensation coursed through her along with the healing warmth. It had been... decades... centuries... since any man had touched her with such... focus.

Wang Jian’s own control was iron. His cock was aching, his hands desperate to grab, to squeeze, to possess the magnificent flesh so close to his touch. But he held back.

’Patience, Jian. Patience,’ he commanded himself, his heart pounding with a predator’s suppressed excitement. ’Not today. Today is for establishing trust. Today is for making her need this. For making her get used to my hands on her body. One step at a time. The prey must be calmed before it can be properly devoured.’

He finished the session after a full, agonizing hour. He pulled his hands back, panting, wiping more beads of fake sweat from his brow. ”It is... done,” he gasped, as if the effort had nearly killed him. ”For today.”

Lianhua was exhausted. The combination of the strange, healing energy, the low-level but constant pain, and the intense, unfamiliar, and deeply unsettling sensations of his touch had completely overwhelmed her.

But... she felt it. She could feel a tiny, fragile, but real thread of Qi inside her again. She could form a connection with it. It was barely at the First Stage of Qi Condensation, a pathetic, pitiful amount compared to her former glory... but it was there. It was real.

He had given her back the impossible. He had given her back hope.

He left her to rest, her mind a chaotic, reeling whirl of this newfound hope, the memory of her humiliation, and a strange, new, and deeply confusing awareness of the young, handsome, and utterly indispensable man who now held her entire life, her entire future, in his hands.

Wang Jian, meanwhile, was already planning the next ”session.” The one where he would, regretfully, inform her that her robes were interfering with the energy flow, and that to truly heal her, he would need to place his hands directly on her bare skin.