Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

The Iron-Root Hollow was less a valley and more a scar upon the face of the earth. Located precariously between the second defensive line of the Mystic Peak Sect and the encroaching vanguard of the Azure Sword Clan, it was a landscape of jagged, rust-colored rock formations that twisted out of the ground like the petrified roots of some ancient, dead titan.

The air here did not smell of wind or earth; it smelled of ozone, burnt flesh, and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Spiritual energy clashed in the atmosphere, creating chaotic vortices that could shred the robes of a mortal, but to the cultivators waging war here, it was simply the atmosphere of business.

And business was good.

Wang Jian stood atop a jagged spire of iron-rock, his robes fluttering in the violent, Qi-charged wind. To any observer from the Mystic Peak Sect, he looked the picture of the righteous defender. His posture was defiant, his expression grim and determined, his sword—a high-grade spiritual artifact he had looted weeks ago—gleaming with a cold, blue light. Beside him stood Yue Lingshan, her beautiful face set in a mask of concentration, a dozen array flags hovering around her like obedient satellites.

”Husband,” Yue Lingshan shouted over the roar of a distant explosion, pointing her sword towards the ravine below. ”The left flank! The Azure Sword Clan is pushing a wedge formation through the gap! If they break through, they will cut off Deacon Li’s squad!”

Wang Jian narrowed his eyes, his spiritual sense sweeping out not to check on Deacon Li’s safety, but to assess the ”value” of the incoming enemy unit. He sensed three distinct, powerful auras leading the charge. Late-stage Foundation Establishment. High-quality artifacts.

”We cannot let that happen!” Wang Jian roared, infusing his voice with a passionate, righteous zeal that vibrated in the chests of the nearby Mystic Peak disciples. ”For the sect! For our home! We stop them here!”

He leaped from the spire, descending like a meteor. ”Follow me, Lingshan!”

”Always!” Yue Lingshan cried, her heart swelling with admiration for her husband’s bravery. She controlled her array flags, sending them shooting down to establish a perimeter before he even landed.

They crashed into the fray. The Azure Sword Clan unit was led by Deacon Zhang Wei, a man renowned for his brutal strength and his signature ’Splitting Mountain Sword Art’. He was a bear of a man, clad in heavy azure armor, wielding a massive broadsword that hummed with earth-shattering weight.

”Mystic Peak dogs!” Deacon Zhang Wei bellowed, swinging his blade. A wave of yellow sword-light, heavy as a mountain range, swept towards the Mystic Peak defenders, threatening to crush a group of terrified Qi Condensation disciples.

”Your opponent is me!” Wang Jian shouted, stepping directly into the path of the attack.

He didn’t block it directly; that would be a waste of energy. Instead, he utilized the ”Stellar Deflection Arts,” his sword moving in a fluid, circular motion. He caught the heavy sword-light, spun it around his body, and redirected it into the ground to his right.

BOOM!

Rock shattered, sending shrapnel flying. The Mystic Peak disciples behind him cheered.

”It’s Senior Brother Wang!”

”And Senior Sister Yue! We are saved!”

Wang Jian ignored the cheers, his focus entirely on Zhang Wei. Or rather, on the bulging, high-grade storage pouch hanging from Zhang Wei’s belt, and the exquisite jade pendant swinging from his neck—a defensive artifact, judging by the pulse.

”You possess some skill,” Deacon Zhang Wei sneered, his eyes locking onto Wang Jian. ”But skill cannot overcome absolute power! Two of you, take the woman! I will crush this one!”

Two other Azure Sword Deacons, both mid-stage Foundation Establishment, peeled off to attack Yue Lingshan.

”Lingshan!” Wang Jian called out, feigning concern.

”Focus on him, Jian! I can handle these two!” Yue Lingshan replied with fierce confidence. She slapped her hands together. ”Thousand-Thread Binding Array, activate!”

Spectral threads of green light erupted from the ground where she had planted her flags, weaving a complex net that ensnared the two charging deacons. They struggled, slashing at the threads, but Yue Lingshan’s mastery of arrays, enhanced by the pills Mu Lianhua had refined, was formidable. She held them at bay, turning their own aggression against them.

Wang Jian turned back to Zhang Wei. ”Your arrogance is your downfall, Azure Sword scum!”

He charged. They clashed in a flurry of sparks and shockwaves. Wang Jian modulated his strength carefully. He was currently portraying himself as a talented early-to-mid stage Foundation Establishment cultivator pushing his limits. He couldn’t reveal his true, Peak Middle Stage power or his Stellar Demonic strength, or the battle would end too quickly and suspiciously.

He had to make it look like a desperate struggle.

Zhang Wei swung his massive sword in an overhead cleave. Wang Jian dodged by a hair’s breadth, the wind of the blade cutting a lock of his hair. He countered with a thrust to the ribs, which Zhang Wei blocked with his armored gauntlet.

”Is that all you have?” Zhang Wei laughed, pressing the attack.

’Just a little more,’ Wang Jian thought, his eyes tracking the sway of Zhang Wei’s storage pouch. ’Show me your openings.’

He allowed Zhang Wei to push him back, feigning fatigue. He stumbled slightly over a loose rock—a calculated error.

”Die!” Zhang Wei roared, seeing the opening. He raised his sword high, channeling all his Qi into a finishing move. The blade glowed with a blinding yellow light.

This was the moment.

As Zhang Wei committed his weight forward, Wang Jian’s expression shifted from panic to a cold, predatory sneer that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Wang Jian didn’t block. He stepped in.

He unleashed a burst of Stellar Qi from his foot, stomping the ground. It wasn’t an attack; it was a localized tremor aimed precisely at Zhang Wei’s plant foot.

The rock beneath Zhang Wei shifted. His balance, committed to the heavy strike, faltered for a fraction of a second. His strike went wide, smashing into the ground inches from Wang Jian’s shoulder.

Wang Jian was already moving. His sword, infused with a concentrated needle of Stellar Qi, flashed upward.

SHHHKT.

The blade pierced the gap in Zhang Wei’s neck armor, severing the windpipe and the spine in one clean motion.

Zhang Wei’s eyes went wide. The massive sword dropped from his nerveless fingers.

”Your... arrogance...” Wang Jian panted loudly, for the benefit of the audience, ”is your... downfall!”

As Zhang Wei’s body began to crumple, Wang Jian moved closer, ostensibly to catch the falling corpse or perhaps to retrieve his blade. In reality, his left hand moved with the speed of a striking viper.

In the split second before Zhang Wei hit the ground, hidden by the billowing sleeves of their robes and the dust of the battle, Wang Jian’s fingers deftly unhooked the heavy storage pouch and snapped the cord of the jade pendant.

With a flick of his wrist, the items vanished into his own spatial ring.

THUD.

Zhang Wei’s body hit the dirt. To the onlookers, it looked like a heroic duel where Wang Jian had narrowly slain a superior foe. To Wang Jian, it looked like a payday.

’Three thousand spirit stones at least,’ Wang Jian estimated, his spiritual sense briefly flickering over the loot inside his ring. ’And that broadsword is High-Grade Mortal, bordering on Earth. Good metal content. Mu Lianhua can melt it down.’

He looked up. Yue Lingshan had finished her battle as well. Her array had constricted, crushing the two trapped deacons until they were unconscious, and she had finished them with two swift strikes of her sword.

”Jian!” She rushed over to him, checking him for wounds. ”Are you hurt? That was... that was Deacon Zhang Wei! He’s famous for his strength!”

”I am fine, my love,” Wang Jian said, leaning on his sword, breathing heavily to sell the exertion. ”Justice... prevailed.”

Nearby, the group of Mystic Peak Qi Condensation disciples who had been saved were cheering wildly.

”Senior Brother Wang is invincible!”

”Senior Sister Yue is a goddess of war!”

Their leader, a young man from a wealthy merchant family within the sect, ran up, his face glowing with adoration. ”Senior Brother Wang! That was incredible! I saw how you exploited his footing! Truly masterful!”

Wang Jian smiled benevolently at the boy. His eyes, however, drifted to the boy’s waist. The disciple was wearing a very high-quality storage pouch, embroidered with gold thread. It looked heavy.

’Rich parents,’ Wang Jian noted. ’Too heavy for a battlefield. He’ll just slow us down.’

”You fought bravely as well, Junior Brother,” Wang Jian praised, clapping the boy on the shoulder. As he did, he injected a microscopic thread of delayed Stellar Qi into the boy’s meridian channel near his leg. It would do nothing now, but in about an hour, it would cause a sudden, crippling cramp. Ideally, right when a beast or an enemy appeared.

”Thank you, Senior Brother!” The boy beamed, unaware he had just been marked for death and looting.

”The enemy reinforcements are coming,” Wang Jian suddenly announced, his head snapping towards the east. He sensed nothing, but he was done with this sector. The loot was secured, and there were too many witnesses to strip the other corpses properly. ”We must reposition to the western ridge! It is a strategic choke point!”

”I will follow you anywhere, Jian,” Yue Lingshan said immediately, recalling her array flags.

”Junior Brothers, retreat to the second line!” Wang Jian ordered the disciples. ”We will draw them away!”

”Yes, Senior Brother!”

Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan summoned their flying swords and shot into the sky.

As they flew, Wang Jian looked back. He saw an Azure Sword disciple, wounded but alive, crawling near the body of Zhang Wei, his eyes fixed on Wang Jian. He had been close. He might have seen the hand movement.

Wang Jian didn’t hesitate. He flicked his finger.

A tiny, invisible needle of compressed air and Qi shot down from the sky. It struck the wounded disciple directly in the dantian. The man jerked once and went still.

”What was that?” Yue Lingshan asked, looking back.

”Just a stray energy discharge,” Wang Jian said smoothly. ”The battlefield is unstable.”

They flew towards the western ridge, the wind whipping past them. Wang Jian’s face was the picture of righteous determination, but his mind was already calculating the conversion rate of the Azure Sword artifacts he had just acquired.

”Sector 4 is clear of big fish,” he sent a mental message via a high-grade transmission talisman hidden in his sleeve. ”Moving to Sector 5.”

Miles away from the righteous posturing of Wang Jian, the atmosphere was very different.

The Foggy Forest on the southern edge of the battlefield was a place of silence and death. The mist here was thick, unnatural, clinging to the trees like wet wool. It muffled sound and dampened spiritual senses.

Two figures moved through the mist. They did not fly; they glided over the forest floor, their footsteps making no sound on the damp leaves.

Chen Ying led the way. She was dressed in tight-fitting grey leathers that blended perfectly with the fog. Her sword, ’Winter’s Sorrow’, was drawn, the blade coated in a non-reflective matte finish to prevent glinting. Her aura was completely retracted, making her seem like nothing more than a shadow.

Behind her walked Liu Ruyan. She wore dark green robes, her face veiled. A small, black snake—her Black-Scaled Flood Serpent, shrunk to the size of a bracelet—was coiled around her left wrist, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. In her right hand, she held a small censer that emitted a thin, purple smoke.

They were hunting.

”Two targets,” Chen Ying whispered, her voice barely a breath. She pointed through the trees.

Ahead, by a small, bubbling stream, two Azure Sword Clan Deacons were resting. They looked exhausted, their armor battered. One was bandaging the other’s arm. They had let their guard down, trusting the fog to hide them.

”Mid-stage,” Liu Ruyan whispered back, her eyes glowing with a cold, analytical light. ”The one on the left has a poisoning of the lung meridian. He is breathing shallowly.”

”I take the right. You take the left,” Chen Ying commanded.

Liu Ruyan nodded. She gently blew into the censer.

A cloud of colorless, odorless gas drifted from the censer, carried by the wind directly towards the unsuspecting deacons. It was ”Spirit-Numbing Incense,” a concoction she had refined under Wang Jian’s orders specifically for capturing cultivators intact.

The gas reached them. The deacons didn’t cough. They just... slowed down. Their movements became sluggish, their reactions dulling as the neurotoxin interfered with the connection between their minds and their Qi.

”Now,” Chen Ying hissed.

She moved.

She was a blur of grey motion. She covered the distance in a heartbeat. The deacon on the right, the healthy one, sensed a shift in the air. He started to turn, his hand reaching for his sword.

Too slow.

Chen Ying’s ”Seven Absolutes Sword Art” was a technique of pure efficiency. There was no wasted movement, no flashy lights. Just a single, horizontal slash.

SHHHT.

The blade passed through the deacon’s throat. He gurgled, blood spraying into the stream, and collapsed.

The second deacon, the wounded one, stared in horror as his companion fell. He tried to channel his Qi to scream, to attack, but the incense made his meridians feel like they were filled with sludge.

”You...” he rasped.

Liu Ruyan stepped out of the mist. She raised her hand.

”Burn,” she whispered.

A crimson flame, the Blood Spirit Flame, erupted from her palm. It wasn’t a fireball; it was a hungry, living thing. It latched onto the deacon’s uninjured arm.

”AAAAHHH!” The deacon screamed, a sound that was quickly muffled as the flame surged up his body. The Blood Spirit Flame didn’t just burn flesh; it consumed spiritual energy and blood essence. It ate him alive.

Chen Ying stepped forward and ended his misery with a precise thrust through the heart.

”Silence,” she hissed coldly.

The forest fell quiet again.

”Clean kills,” Liu Ruyan noted, her voice detached. She walked over to the bodies. She didn’t look disgusted; she looked like a butcher inspecting a carcass.

She expertly stripped the bodies. Storage pouches, weapons, armor, even the boots if they were high quality. She checked their pockets, finding a small box of herbs on one.

”Star-Iron Ore,” she murmured, holding up a heavy, dark rock she found in a pouch. ”And a stalk of Spirit-Mending Grass. Master will be pleased.”

”Everything is for Master,” Chen Ying agreed, wiping her blade on the dead deacon’s robes. ”But this... this is not enough. We need more to buy the pills he promised.”

She looked at the corpses. ”Waste not.”

She touched the beast pouch at her waist. Two grey blurs shot out. The Thunderclap Wolves. They had grown larger, their fur crackling with static. They looked at the bodies hungrily.

”Eat,” Chen Ying commanded. ”Grow strong for him.”

The wolves fell upon the corpses, tearing into the flesh of the Foundation Establishment cultivators. Consuming the flesh of powerful cultivators was the fastest way for spirit beasts to evolve.

Liu Ruyan stroked the small black snake on her wrist. ”You want some too, don’t you, little one?”

The snake hissed. Liu Ruyan used a dagger to carve out the heart of the second deacon. She fed it to the snake, who swallowed it whole, its scales shimmering with a dark light.

They stood there, two beautiful women in a silent forest, watching their beasts devour the dead.

Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes.

Chen Ying spun around, sword raised.

A figure stumbled out of the mist. It was a man, wearing the robes of a Mystic Peak Sect Deacon. He was badly wounded, clutching a bleeding side, his face pale.

”Junior Sisters!” he gasped, relief flooding his face as he saw their robes. ”Thank the heavens! I am Deacon Zhao... I... I was ambushed... I have important intel for the Elders...”

He stumbled towards them, expecting safety. He didn’t notice the wolves feasting behind them, hidden by the mist and the women’s bodies.

Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan exchanged a single glance. A silent conversation passed between them in a microsecond.

He is wounded. He is slow. He will be a burden.

He has a high-grade storage pouch. It looks full.

He is a liability.

”Of course, Senior Brother Zhao,” Liu Ruyan said, her voice turning sweet and concerned. She stepped forward, reaching out as if to support him. ”You are safe now. Let me help you.”

Deacon Zhao relaxed, lowering his guard completely. ”Thank you... I...”

As Liu Ruyan took his left arm, Chen Ying appeared behind him like a ghost.

She didn’t use her sword. She used a specialized dagger, thrusting it upward into the base of his skull.

Deacon Zhao went stiff. The light faded from his eyes. He died without ever knowing he had been betrayed.

Liu Ruyan caught his body before it hit the ground. She deftly unhooked his storage pouch.

”He was too wounded,” she murmured, justifying it to the silent forest. ”He wouldn’t have made it back. The journey would have been too painful. We are just... preserving his assets. For the greater good.”

”Master’s good,” Chen Ying corrected.

They tossed the body to the wolves.

”Let’s move,” Chen Ying said. ”I smell more prey to the south.”

They vanished back into the mist, leaving three picked-clean skeletons behind—two enemies and one ally, all equal in death, all fuel for Wang Jian’s rise.

While Wang Jian played the hero and Chen Ying played the assassin, the third arm of Wang Jian’s operation was playing a different game entirely.

In a rocky ravine known as ”Dead Man’s Drop,” a group of five Azure Sword Clan disciples stood in a circle, their weapons drawn, leering.

In the center of the circle huddled three women. They were dressed in mismatched, non-sect clothing—leather armor, travel cloaks, masks. They looked like a group of rogue cultivators, mercenaries down on their luck.

It was Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue. The ”Red Lotus Mercenaries.”

”Please, brave heroes of the Azure Sword Clan,” Bai Xue cried, her voice trembling with a perfect, high-pitched fear. She clutched a small, pathetic-looking bag of low-grade spirit stones to her chest. ”We are just wandering healers! We didn’t know this was a war zone! We have spirit stones! Take them! Take them all, just let us go!”

She looked terrified, her big eyes wide and watery above her veil. Her clothes were torn ’accidentally’ in strategic places, revealing flashes of creamy skin.

The Azure Sword leader, a burly disciple with a scar across his nose, laughed. He kicked the dirt near Bai Xue’s feet.

”Healers, eh?” he jeered, looking at his men. ”You hear that, boys? We found us some healers.”

He stepped closer, his eyes raking over Bai Xue’s trembling form, then moving to Qiu Yun’s fiery figure and Su Ning’s elegant curves.

”Maybe you can ’heal’ us,” he said, his voice dropping to a crude growl. ”My sword has been awfully lonely lately. It needs polishing.”

His men laughed, relaxing their stances. They saw three frightened women, not threats. They saw spoils of war.

”Come on, little healer,” the leader said, reaching out to grab Bai Xue’s veil. ”Let’s see that pretty face.”

Bai Xue shrank back. ”No... please...”

”Don’t be shy.” He leaned in, entering her personal space, his guard completely down.

The moment he was within arm’s reach, the air in the ravine changed.

Qiu Yun, who had been huddled with her head down, looked up. Her eyes weren’t fearful. They were burning with mockery.

”You talk too much,” she said.

She raised her hand. She didn’t cast a spell. She didn’t draw a sword. She pressed her palm directly against the leader’s chest.

”Yang-Fire Explosion.”

BOOM!

A concentrated blast of superheated fire Qi erupted from her palm. It wasn’t a fireball; it was a shaped charge. It blew a hole straight through the leader’s chest armor and out his back.

He didn’t even scream. He just looked down at the hole in his chest, then collapsed.

The other four disciples froze in shock.

”Kill them!” one shouted, raising his sword.

Su Ning moved. She threw a handful of fine, grey powder into the air. ”Bone-Rotting Powder.”

The wind carried it directly into the faces of the two disciples on the left. They screamed, dropping their weapons, clawing at their faces as their skin began to blister and peel, the flesh turning to grey sludge.

The last two disciples turned to run.

”Oh no you don’t!” Bai Xue chirped, her terrified persona vanishing instantly.

She drew two curved, wicked-looking daggers from her sleeves. They were coated in a glistening, green neurotoxin.

She moved with surprising speed, dashing behind the fleeing men.

Slash. Slash.

She hamstrung them both. They collapsed, unable to walk.

”Please! Mercy!” one crawled, dragging his useless legs.

Bai Xue walked over to him. She tilted her head. ”Mercy? But you wanted to ’polish your sword’, didn’t you?”

She drove the dagger into his neck.

It was over in ten seconds. The women stood amidst the corpses, breathing heavily, the thrill of the kill flushing their cheeks.

”Efficient,” Qiu Yun noted, kicking the leader’s body over. ”He was weak. All talk.”

They began to strip the bodies. They were ruthless, taking everything.

”Look at this,” Su Ning said, pulling a scroll from a pouch. ”This one has a map. It shows their supply line rotations for the next week.”

”Master will want this,” Bai Xue agreed, wiping blood from her face.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the canyon entrance.

The women spun around, weapons ready.

A patrol of ten Mystic Peak Sect disciples appeared, drawn by the explosion. Their leader, a middle-aged Deacon, looked at the dead Azure Sword disciples, then at the three masked women.

”Identify yourselves!” the Deacon shouted, his sword raised.

Qiu Yun stepped forward. She sheathed her weapon with a flourish. She pulled down her mask, revealing her stunning face, but keeping her identity as a former Crimson Pill disciple vague.

”We are the Red Lotus Mercenaries,” she announced haughtily. ”We kill Azure Sword dogs for profit. Do you have a problem with that, Deacon?”

The Deacon blinked. ”Mercenaries? In this sector?” He looked at the dead Azure Sword leader. ”You killed that squad?”

”Obviously,” Qiu Yun scoffed. ”They were rude.”

Su Ning stepped forward, holding up the map she had just looted.

”We found this on the leader,” she said, her voice cool and professional. ”It appears to be a supply line map. Very detailed.”

The Deacon’s eyes widened. ”That... that is valuable intelligence.”

”It is,” Su Ning agreed. She didn’t offer it. She held it back. ”We are mercenaries, Deacon. We don’t give gifts.”

She smiled, a cold, calculating smile. ”We will sell it to you. Five hundred spirit stones.”

”Five hundred?!” the Deacon sputtered. ”That’s robbery!”

”Take it or leave it,” Qiu Yun said, turning as if to leave. ”I’m sure there’s another Mystic Peak patrol that wants the credit for breaking the supply line.”

”Wait!” the Deacon shouted. He knew the value of that map. It could mean a promotion. ”Fine! Five hundred!”

He threw a pouch of spirit stones to them. Su Ning tossed him the map.

”Pleasure doing business with you,” Bai Xue waved cheerfully.

The women turned and vanished into the rocky terrain, leaving the confused Mystic Peak patrol behind.

As they put distance between themselves and the ravine, they began to giggle.

”Did you see his face?” Bai Xue laughed. ”We killed the enemy, looted them, and then sold their own map to our ’allies’ for a profit!”

”Master is going to be so proud of us,” Su Ning said, counting the spirit stones. ”We made money twice on the same kill.”

”Come on,” Qiu Yun said, her eyes scanning the horizon. ”Let’s find another group. I want to buy that new dress Master liked.”

They moved on, three beautiful, deadly flowers blooming on the battlefield, turning war into a highly profitable enterprise.