Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 202 Zyrithia, Nether Curseweaver Devil Princess

Zyrithia, a once unremarkable low-ranked demon residing in the impoverished slums of the demon realm, found herself thrust into a life-altering adventure on an otherwise ordinary day.

Drawn by the distant echoes of battle, her curiosity propelled her towards the source of the commotion.

Unbeknownst to Zyrithia, her clumsy approach caught the attention of the battling demons, and their menacing gazes fixated upon her.

Swiftly realizing the imminent danger, she turned on her heels and sprinted in the opposite direction, desperately seeking an escape route.

Fate, however, had other plans for Zyrithia. In her panicked flight, she stumbled upon a concealed pit, its entrance cunningly disguised by an intricate illusionary array.

Plunging into the depths of the pit, she unknowingly entered a hidden underground tunnel, leaving her pursuers bewildered and empty-handed.

Within the subterranean labyrinth, Zyrithiaʼs eyes beheld a sight that would forever alter her destiny. The tunnel was a graveyard of slain demonic beasts, their corpses serving as a testament to battles long past.

As her gaze wandered, it alighted upon a majestic totem, a statue that stood as an ancestral embodiment of the renowned Nether Curseweaver Clan. The totem radiated an otherworldly aura, beckoning Zyrithia closer.

This demonic totem possessed four invaluable treasures, each holding the potential to reshape Zyrithiaʼs existence.

The first was a spatial pouch, once brimming with rare resources whose energy had waned over time.

Nonetheless, within its confines lay remnants of potent energy, a treasure trove for a demon like Zyrithia.

The second treasure was a complete cultivation manual, meticulously chronicling the profound techniques of an eminent practitioner of the Nether Curseweaver Clan. It held within its pages a collection of cursed techniques.

The third treasure presented itself as a single drop of ancestral bloodline—the life essence of the very ancestral expert immortalized in the totem.

Oblivious to its potency, Zyrithia fearlessly touched the crimson droplet with her bare hands. As the blood seeped into her very being, excruciating agony engulfed her for an entire week.

During that harrowing period, her bloodline, physique, and very spirit were subjected to relentless disintegration and regeneration, each cycle an excruciating test of endurance.

By all accounts, she should have perished due to her having no direction relations to the Nether Curseweaver Clan.

In truth, Zyrithiaʼs survival was a testament to her minuscule but undeniable connection to the Nether Curseweaver Clan—an ancient lineage that intertwined with her blood through a distant seventh-generational ancestor.

Illicit liaisons between high-ranking demons and women of various backgrounds had given rise to a multitude of illegitimate offspring, each possessing the potential of a powerful Devil Clan.

Alas, without the clanʼs elusive techniques necessary to unlock and harness their latent abilities, these progeny remained confined to obscurity, their potential unrealized.

In an astonishing metamorphosis, Zyrithia emerged from her harrowing ordeal forever changed.

The ancestral blood not only awakened her dormant Nether Curseweaver Devil Bloodline but also bestowed upon her heightened instincts, enabling her to intuitively grasp the intricacies of her newfound heritage and its ancient techniques.

Lastly, the fourth treasure bestowed upon her was the legendary Ancestral Nether Curse Scythe, accompanied by an intricate manuscript detailing its enigmatic techniques.

Wielding the scythe would prove a daunting challenge, as Zyrithia had never before held such a weapon in her hands.

But the sheer power resonating from the ancient artifact fueled her determination, for she understood that mastery over the scythe would render her an unstoppable force, capable of reshaping destinies and carving her name into the annals of history.

Zyrithia wasted no time in making her triumphant return to the demon realmʼs mainland, armed with the newfound and enigmatic skills that set her apart from the masses.

The Nether Curseweaver Devil Clan, initially taken aback by her extraordinary abilities, swiftly recognized her potential and eagerly welcomed her into their fold.

Her ascent was nothing short of meteoric, but her journey was not without its share of thorns.

Within the confines of the clan, Zyrithia faced the sting of discrimination and ostracization.

Bound by archaic traditions and plagued by narrow-minded thinking, many demons viewed her as an outsider, their vision clouded by ignorance and prejudice.

Yet, Zyrithia remained undeterred, proving their preconceived notions wrong time and time again.

She unleashed her unparalleled talent, triumphing over numerous clan heirs and leaving no doubt as to her rightful place as the most gifted successor of the Nether Curseweaver Devil Clan.

In recognition of her indomitable spirit and unmatched prowess, Zyrithia was bestowed the honour of becoming the clanʼs representative for a critical mission—an audacious endeavour to infiltrate and corrupt the Everlasting Mystic Empire from within.

While her encounters with the formidable Crown Princeʼs faction had brought both victories and defeats, Zyrithiaʼs influence within the empire grew steadily.

Her faction flourished, spreading its tendrils throughout the vast expanse of the Everlasting Mystic Empire.

What set Zyrithia apart from her fellow demons was not merely her ability to rally others to her cause, but also her rare talent for enlisting the aid of humans.

She had managed to forge alliances that transcended the boundaries of species, weaving a web of cooperation and mutual benefit.

It was not solely her persuasive or negotiating skills that won over these humans; her curse-inflicted abilities played an instrumental role.

Through the sinister power of her curses, she wielded an irresistible allure, ensnaring the hearts and minds of those susceptible to her dark charms.

At this moment, Zyrithiaʼs faction and Wang Yingʼs faction were clashing against each other. The tension in the air was palpable.

Wang Hao, now fully conscious, scowled as he laid his eyes upon Zyrithiaʼs approaching forces.

A mixture of frustration and determination welled up within him, causing his fists to clench instinctively.

He desperately yearned to activate his God of War Spirit, knowing that without tapping into its formidable power, he stood little chance of defeating Zyrithia in his current wounded state.

However, to his dismay, his attempts to unleash the God of War Spirit proved futile.

The exhaustion that came with wielding such an immense force was no joke, leaving Wang Hao drained and unable to summon its might once more, at least not so soon.

Accepting the temporary setback, he redirected his focus, honing his attention on harnessing the power of his Laws of Fist.

The demons of the Oceanic Tempest Storm Devil Clan surrounded him, their menacing presence demanding his unwavering focus and skill.

With steely resolve, Wang Hao pushed aside his frustration and delved deep into his well of combat expertise. Each strike he delivered was a testament to his unwavering spirit and unyielding determination.

The pressure on each combatant, both human and beast, intensified exponentially as Wang Yingʼs faction rallied behind their leader to assist in the battle against Zyrithiaʼs formidable forces.

As the clash raged on, Wang Haoʼs unwavering dedication to the fight and his unrelenting pursuit of victory became evident.

His injuries, though still a hindrance, served as a mere obstacle that fueled his determination rather than dampening his resolve.

With every strike he unleashed, he aimed to dismantle the enemyʼs ranks, creating openings and opportunities for his allies to press forward.

Meanwhile, the battlefield trembled under the weight of the ongoing struggle. The clash of demonic and human forces echoed through the air, punctuated by roars, cries, and the sound of colliding weapons.

In the midst of the chaos, Ye Chenʼs eyelids fluttered open, his body aching from the merciless assault he had endured at the hands of the demons guarding Tristan.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping across the scene that lay before him. What met his eyes was a grim tableau of death and devastation.

The lifeless bodies of numerous humans littered the area, a testament to the fierce battle that had taken place.

Among the fallen were the loyal followers of the Third Prince Wang Chen, his trusted faction who had valiantly stood their ground against the onslaught of demons.

The majority of them had tragically succumbed to their wounds, and their lives extinguished in the line of duty, their sacrifice an epitaph of their unwavering loyalty.

Yet, amidst the carnage, the Third Prince still clung to life, a testament to the determination and resilience that burned within him.

However, his survival was not solely his own doing, but owed much to the selfless devotion of his remaining loyal subordinates.

These brave few had laid down their lives to shield their prince from harm, their unwavering loyalty acting as a shield against the encroaching darkness.

As the demons protecting Tristan caught sight of Zyrithiaʼs arrival, their priorities shifted, abandoning their ruthless assault on Wang Chenʼs faction.

Leaving behind a meager contingent to keep the princeʼs followers occupied, they swiftly made their retreat, their focus now directed towards securing a safe haven for themselves.

Ye Chenʼs frustration simmered within him, his teeth gritted in anger as he muttered through clenched jaws, ”Why? Why did that shadow intervene to protect Tristan? My timing was flawless, my attack formidable, and my concealment impeccable. So why, oh why, was my plan thwarted?”

Surveying the battlefield, his eyes fell upon Zyrithia, the very demon princess whose life he had once saved. It was that act of kindness that had cast him as a public enemy within the Empire.

Every misfortune he had faced seemed to trace back to her.

Now, with Wang Ying locked in a fierce struggle against Zyrithia, Ye Chenʼs weakened form took hesitant steps towards the fray.

Gripping his Heavy Sword in one hand, he fumbled to retrieve rare, vital herbs from his pouch, determined to mend his injuries as best he could before joining the battle.

With each determined step forward, Ye Chen closed the distance, catching the attention of those near the battlefield. His presence did not go unnoticed by Zyrithia, her eyes gleaming with a devious glint as she spoke aloud, commanding the attention of all who stood witness.

”Hey, you!” Zyrithia called out, her voice carrying across the tumultuous field. ”Help me keep this woman occupied for a few minutes. I know of your secret dealings with Tristan, and I saw how you aided his faction against both humans and beasts. I promise you, your efforts wonʼt be in vain.”

The proclamation hung in the air, causing Wang Ying to exclaim in disbelief, her voice ringing out amidst the chaos.

Even Elder Hua and Jin Meixiang, both taken aback by the revelation, gasped audibly. None had anticipated that Ye Chen would be aligned with a demon.

As Zyrithiaʼs words settled upon the ears of those present, Ye Chen hesitated for a moment, his mind racing to concoct a suitable response.

Initially prepared to deny the accusation vehemently, he paused, realizing the partial truth in her words.

It was true that he had assisted Tristanʼs demon faction in their battles against both humans and beasts. However, he had his own reasons, far from aligning with the demons.

Yet, that momentary pause proved disastrous, for Wang Ying, Elder Hua, and Jin Meixiang swiftly arrived at their own conclusions, convinced by Zyrithiaʼs words and the apparent absence of a denial from Ye Chen.

Tongue-tied and trapped, he found himself ensnared in a web of misunderstanding.