Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 853: A Mortalʼs Ascent, A Princessʼs Heart

The first light of dawn, soft and pearlescent, crept through the silken curtains of the secluded garden pavilion. It painted delicate stripes across the rumpled divan, illuminating the two figures entwined there.

Wang Jian stirred first. His eyes, usually sharp and assessing, were momentarily softened by the vestiges of sleep. He felt the warmth of Princess Yue Lingshan pressed against him, her dark hair splayed across his chest, her breathing even and deep. Her naked skin was smooth, fragrant, a delightful contrast to the rougher textures of his own mortal form.

ʼWell now,ʼ he thought, a lazy, satisfied smirk touching his lips. ʼThat was… surprisingly pleasant. For mortal indulgence, anyway.ʼ He mentally replayed flashes of the previous night – her initial shyness, the way her eyes had widened at his touch, the soft moans that had escaped her lips, the eventual, uninhibited passion. ʼShe has potential. Definitely receptive.ʼ

He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyelids fluttered.

Lingshan woke with a soft gasp, her lashes trembling. The memories of the night rushed back, vivid and overwhelming. She was naked, in the arms of a man sheʼd known for mere weeks, a man who was a commoner, a man who had just… taken her.

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She tried to pull away, a sudden wave of shame and confusion washing over her. ʼWhat have I done? Father will… the court… the assembly…ʼ

Wang Jianʼs arm tightened around her waist, gently but firmly preventing her escape. ”Good morning, Lingshan,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear, still husky with sleep and desire.

”Jian…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She couldnʼt meet his eyes.

”Regrets?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder.

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. ”I… I donʼt know. It was… it happened so fast. We shouldnʼt have…”

Wang Jian chuckled, a warm sound that surprisingly eased some of her tension. ”Perhaps. Or perhaps it was exactly what was meant to happen.” He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, now clear and focused, held a disconcerting mix of tenderness and possessive confidence. ”Did you not enjoy yourself, Lingshan?”

Her blush deepened. ”I… it was… Iʼve never…” She trailed off, unable to voice the whirlwind of new sensations and emotions he had awakened in her. It had been overwhelming, terrifying, and undeniably… incredible.

”Exactly,” he said, his thumb brushing her lower lip. ”Thereʼs nothing to regret in pleasure, especially when it is shared.” He leaned in and kissed her, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of the previous night and promised more.

Lingshan found herself melting into the kiss, her anxieties momentarily forgotten. His confidence was infectious, his touch reassuring. ʼHe doesnʼt seem to think anything is wrong. Heʼs… so sure of himself.ʼ

When he pulled back, her eyes were dazed. ”But… the assembly for the Mystic Peak Sect… if anyone finds out…”

”No one will find out,” Wang Jian said with absolute certainty. ”This will be our secret. A beautiful secret, hmm?” He kissed the tip of her nose. ”Besides, a happy, confident princess is far more likely to impress those cultivators than a worried, guilt-ridden one, donʼt you think?”

She blinked. ʼHe has a point. The stress… it has been terrible.ʼ

”You think… this will help me with the assembly?” she asked, a flicker of hope in her voice.

”Being relaxed, knowing you have someone who… admires you greatly,” he chose his words carefully, ”can only be beneficial. Worry less about failing, Lingshan, and more about shining.” He punctuated his words with another disarming kiss.

ʼHeʼs right,ʼ she thought, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over her. His presence, his touch, it was… empowering, in an unexpected way.

The next few days, then weeks, then months, settled into a new rhythm. Wang Jian, with Lingshanʼs quiet facilitation, became a discreet but undeniable presence in her life. He wasnʼt part of her official retinue, but he was often nearby, offering advice, a steadying presence, and, in the stolen moments of privacy they managed to carve out, passionate intimacy.

Lingshan found herself relying on him more and more. The Imperial Court of Yue was a viperʼs nest of political maneuvering. Her many siblings, particularly the elder princes and a few ambitious princesses, were constantly vying for favor, for power, for any advantage that could lead them closer to the throne or, failing that, a more influential marriage alliance.

One afternoon, Lingshan was distressed. Her Second Brother, Prince Yue Fengmian, a known schemer with a network of informants, had started spreading subtle rumors questioning her piety, trying to undermine her image before the Mystic Peak Sect assembly.

”He claims Iʼve been neglecting my temple visits, that my heart isnʼt pure enough for the immortal path!” Lingshan fumed, pacing her private chambers while Wang Jian calmly sipped tea she had poured for him. ”Itʼs all lies! Heʼs just trying to make himself look better by tearing me down!”

Wang Jian listened patiently. ʼTypical courtly backstabbing. Amateurs.ʼ

”And what evidence does he offer for these… impure thoughts?” Wang Jian asked mildly.

”None!” Lingshan exclaimed. ”Just whispers to influential courtiers, insinuations to the Head Priestess at the Celestial Maiden Temple!”

”Then we fight whispers with… louder truths,” Wang Jian said. ”Or better yet, with actions that make his whispers seem foolish.”

Over the next week, guided by Wang Jianʼs subtle suggestions, Lingshan didnʼt just continue her temple visits; she intensified them, always with a serene, deeply devout expression. She made generous, well-publicized donations to the templeʼs charitable works. She engaged the Head Priestess in thoughtful discussions about scriptures, discussions peppered with surprisingly profound insights ʼsheʼd been contemplatingʼ. (Wang Jian had, of course, prepped her, drawing on his vast, albeit currently inaccessible, knowledge of philosophies from other worlds).

Furthermore, Wang Jian, using his uncanny ability to gather information even as a ʼcommonerʼ, uncovered that Prince Fengmian was secretly siphoning funds from a state-sponsored irrigation project. Not through direct confrontation, but through a series of ʼanonymous tipsʼ and ʼmisplaced documentsʼ that found their way to the Imperial Censor, Prince Fengmian suddenly found himself under a very uncomfortable investigation. His attempts to slander Lingshan faltered as he scrambled to cover his own tracks.

Lingshan was amazed. ”Jian, how did you…?”

”A righteous princess attracts good fortune,” Wang Jian had said with a mysterious smile, ”while those with deceitful hearts often stumble over their own schemes.”

ʼHeʼs incredible,ʼ Lingshan thought, her admiration deepening. ʼHe sees things no one else does. And he always knows what to do.ʼ

Another time, her ambitious Fifth Sister, Princess Yue Meiying, who had some minor connections to a lesser martial arts school, tried to intimidate Lingshanʼs few loyal servants, hoping to isolate her.

Wang Jian, hearing of this, simply paid a quiet ʼvisitʼ to the two burly martial artists Fifth Sister Meiying had employed for the task. He found them in a back-alley tavern. There was no grand fight, no shouting. Just a brief, chillingly quiet conversation in a dark corner. The two martial artists left the tavern looking pale and shaken, and Princess Meiyingʼs attempts at intimidation ceased abruptly. She never knew why her ʼloyalʼ enforcers suddenly became terrified of even looking in Lingshanʼs direction.

Wang Jianʼs help wasnʼt just strategic; it was practical. His peak mortal martial skill, though lacking Qi, was still formidable. He taught Lingshanʼs loyal guards more efficient defensive formations, how to spot weaknesses in an opponentʼs stance, how to use their environment to their advantage. He didnʼt reveal anything supernatural, just refined, brutal efficiency.

Lingshanʼs guards, initially skeptical of this ʼcommoner travelerʼ, soon looked at him with awe. He moved like a phantom, his strikes precise and powerful, his understanding of combat almost preternatural.

”Master Wang is… a monster in human skin,” one guard whispered to another after a particularly grueling training session where Wang Jian had effortlessly disarmed three of them simultaneously.

Lingshan, witnessing all this, fell deeper under his spell. He was her protector, her strategist, her confidant, and in the increasingly frequent nights they spent together, her passionate, insatiable lover. She felt stronger, more confident, more capable than ever before, all thanks to him. The guilt about their ʼimproperʼ relationship faded, replaced by a fierce possessiveness. He was hers.

The day of the Mystic Peak Sect assembly finally arrived.

The grandest hall in the Imperial Palace, the Azure Dragon Hall, was prepared. Imperial banners hung, incense burned, and a palpable tension filled the air. The Emperor Yue Tianlong sat on his dragon throne, his expression stern but his eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. Beside him sat the Empress and various high-ranking concubines.

All the eligible royal children – princes and princesses between the ages of fifteen and twenty – were present, dressed in their finest robes, their faces a mixture of hope, anxiety, and carefully concealed ambition. Selected children from the most powerful noble families of Yue were also there, equally hopeful.

Then, they arrived.

Not through the main doors, but materializing silently in the center of the hall, as if stepping out of thin air. Three figures. Cultivators.

Their aura was undeniable. Even Wang Jian, standing discreetly among Lingshanʼs attendants (a position she had insisted upon), felt the familiar pressure of spiritual energy, though it was far weaker than what heʼd wielded himself.

The leader was an old man with a long white beard, wearing simple grey robes that nonetheless seemed to ripple with unseen power. His eyes were like ancient pools, deep and unfathomable. Beside him stood a middle-aged woman, her expression stern and aloof, and a younger man, perhaps in his late twenties, with an air of quiet arrogance.

These were the envoys from the Mystic Peak Sect. Elder Sun, Deacon Liu, and Senior Disciple Fang.

Emperor Yue Tianlong rose and bowed deeply. ”Esteemed Immortals, welcome to Sky-Dragon City. The State of Yue is honored by your presence.”

Elder Sun nodded curtly. ”Emperor Yue. Let us not waste time on pleasantries. Bring forth the candidates. We shall assess their potential.” His voice was dry, devoid of emotion.

The testing began. Each royal child and noble youth stepped forward, placing their hand on a smooth, crystalline orb held by Deacon Liu. The orb would glow with different colors and intensities, indicating their spiritual root potential.

Most results were… disappointing. Faint, muddy glows. Mortal roots, unsuitable for cultivation. A few showed a weak, flickering light of four colors – False Spiritual Roots, barely capable of reaching Qi Condensation, and certainly not worth the sectʼs resources. Looks of despair and quiet weeping followed these results.

Then came Lingshanʼs ambitious Second Brother, Prince Fengmian. He stepped forward confidently. The orb glowed, first with a strong blue light, then a faint silver.

”Dual Spiritual Roots!” Deacon Liu announced, a flicker of surprise in her voice. ”Water and Metal. Mutated into… an Ice Attributed Root. Acceptable quality.”

Prince Fengmian preened, a smug smile on his face. He cast a triumphant look at his siblings.

Several others were tested, mostly with poor results. A young heir from the powerful Marquis Zhen family, Zhen Haoyu, showed a decent single Earth Spiritual Root, earning a nod from Deacon Liu.

Then it was Lingshanʼs turn. She stepped forward, her heart pounding. She glanced at Wang Jian, who gave her a subtle, encouraging nod. She placed her hand on the orb.

It erupted in light. A brilliant, pure green, followed by an equally strong, vibrant blue.

”Dual Spiritual Roots!” Deacon Liu exclaimed, her eyes widening. ”Wood and Water! Excellent purity! Superior Grade!”

Even Elder Sunʼs impassive face showed a flicker of interest. ”Indeed. A rare talent.”

Lingshan felt a wave of relief and elation wash over her. She had done it!

Finally, it was Wang Jianʼs ʼturnʼ. He had been presented as a distant relative of a minor noble house Lingshan had ʼdiscoveredʼ, his inclusion a last-minute addition she had passionately argued for, citing his ʼhidden potentialʼ.

He stepped forward calmly, placing his hand on the orb. It glowed, not as brilliantly as Lingshanʼs, but with three distinct, clear colors: a steady red, a calm blue, and a gentle green.

”Triple Spiritual Roots,” Deacon Liu announced, her tone neutral. ”Fire, Water, and Wood. Average purity. Acceptable.”

ʼAcceptable. Perfect,ʼ Wang Jian thought. He didnʼt want to stand out too much at this stage. Three elements were considered decent enough for an outer sect, but not extraordinary. It would allow him to blend in.

The selection was swift. Elder Sun pointed towards Prince Fengmian, Lingshan, Zhen Haoyu, and Wang Jian. ”These four. They will accompany us to the Mystic Peak Sect.”

A mixture of joy, envy, and despair rippled through the Azure Dragon Hall. The chosen ones were ecstatic. The rejected ones were devastated.

Emperor Yue Tianlong bowed again. ”We are grateful to the Mystic Peak Sect for this opportunity for our children.”

Elder Sun merely nodded. ”Prepare them. We depart at dawn.” With that, the three cultivators vanished as silently as they had arrived.

The journey to the Mystic Peak Sect was an experience. Not by mundane carriage, but on a large, flying sword artifact controlled by Senior Disciple Fang. Wang Jian, Lingshan, Prince Fengmian, and Zhen Haoyu stood on its shimmering surface, the wind whipping past them as they soared through the clouds.

Lingshan clung to Wang Jianʼs arm, a mixture of exhilaration and nervousness on her face. Prince Fengmian tried to look aloof but couldnʼt hide his awe. Zhen Haoyu was simply terrified.

Wang Jian observed everything, the speed, the spiritual energy expenditure, the subtle control Senior Disciple Fang exerted over the artifact. ʼCrude, but effective for this realmʼs standards.ʼ

Mystic Peak Sect was nestled in a range of mist-shrouded mountains, its buildings clinging to steep cliffs, connected by narrow, winding paths and swaying rope bridges. It wasnʼt as grand as the immortal paradises from his memories, but it possessed a serene, ancient beauty and a palpable spiritual energy far richer than the mortal lands below.

Upon arrival, they were met by an Outer Sect Deacon, a stern-faced man named Deacon Meng. He led them through the sprawling outer sect area – simple wooden residences, training grounds, communal halls.

”As new Outer Sect Disciples,” Deacon Meng announced, his voice droning, ”you will each receive standard provisions.”

He handed each of them a small pouch. Inside, Wang Jian found ten small, milky-white stones pulsing with faint spiritual energy. ʼLow-grade Spirit Stones. The basic currency and cultivation aid, as expected.ʼ

They were also given sect robes – simple, grey, and surprisingly durable. ”These robes are made with special materials,” Deacon Meng explained. ”They will resist tearing and can be adjusted for size with a small infusion of Spiritual Energy. Do not lose them. Replacements are costly.”

Wang Jian examined the robe. ʼBasic, but functional. Better than sackcloth.ʼ

Next, they were led to a large, imposing building carved into the mountainside – the Scripture Pavilion.

”As new disciples, you are permitted to choose one cultivation technique from the first floor, free of charge,” Deacon Meng stated. ”Subsequent techniques or access to higher floors will require sect contribution points.”

The first floor was vast, lined with shelves holding thousands of jade slips and ancient-looking scrolls. Disciples moved about, browsing quietly.

Prince Fengmian and Zhen Haoyu immediately rushed towards shelves marked ʼIce Attributed Techniquesʼ and ʼEarth Element Methodsʼ respectively. Lingshan looked overwhelmed, turning to Wang Jian for guidance.

”Take your time, Lingshan,” Wang Jian advised softly. ”Choose something that resonates with your Wood and Water roots. Perhaps a harmonizing technique.”

While Lingshan browsed, Wang Jian began his own survey. His powerful soul, even without Qi, processed information at an incredible rate. He picked up jade slip after jade slip, his consciousness sweeping through their contents. Names, principles, Qi circulation paths – he absorbed it all with a single glance, committing gigabytes of data to memory effortlessly.

ʼSwift Water Art… Blazing Sun Palm… Ironwood Body Method… Whispering Wind Steps… Foundation tier techniques. Simple. Inefficient for the most part. But they provide a good overview of this realmʼs basic cultivation understanding.ʼ

He found a section detailing the sectʼs structure and the known cultivation realms.

Qi Condensation Stage – Nine levels. Gathering ambient Qi, refining it.

Foundation Establishment Stage – Building the Dao foundation, forming a spiritual sea.

Core Formation Stage – Condensing the spiritual sea into a Golden Core.

Nascent Soul Stage – The Golden Core hatches, forming a miniature spiritual infant, the Nascent Soul.

Spirit Transformation Stage – The Nascent Soul matures, begins to comprehend deeper laws.

ʼBeyond that… not mentioned in these outer sect records. Predictable.ʼ He recalled Deacon Meng mentioning that the Mystic Peak Sectʼs Grand Elder, their strongest, was at the Nascent Soul Realm. ʼSo, a mid-tier sect, perhaps slightly above average for a mortal state like Yue. Not bad for a starting point.ʼ

Another jade slip detailed the major powers within the State of Yue. Five prominent cultivation sects. The Azure Sword Clan, known for their unparalleled sword cultivators. The Crimson Pill Sect, masters of alchemy and potent elixirs. The Hundred Beast Manor, specializing in taming and battling spiritual beasts. The Silent Puppet Guild, mysterious creators of powerful combat puppets. And their own Mystic Peak Sect, known for its balanced approach and its deep connection to the Yue Imperial Family.

ʼMystic Peak Sect… ranked second among the five,ʼ Wang Jian noted from another slip comparing sect strengths and spheres of influence. ʼThe Azure Sword Clan is considered the strongest. Interesting.ʼ

After mentally devouring the contents of nearly half the first floorʼs jade slips within an hour – a feat that would have taken any other new disciple months, if not years – Wang Jian finally made his selection.

He chose a technique called ʼBright Jade Artʼ.

The description was straightforward: ʼA foundational Qi Condensation technique focusing on rapid absorption and circulation of ambient Spiritual Energy. Allows for swift advancement through the Qi Condensation levels. Drawback: Cultivated Spiritual Energy purity and density may be slightly inferior to other techniques at equivalent levels, potentially requiring more effort to break through to Foundation Establishment.ʼ

ʼPerfect,ʼ Wang Jian thought. ʼSpeed is paramount. I need to reach Foundation Establishment as quickly as possible. Purity and density? I can compensate for that later. My soulʼs understanding of energy manipulation far surpasses anything these basic techniques offer.ʼ

His true plan wasnʼt to follow this ʼBright Jade Artʼ blindly. It was merely a starting point, a familiarization with this realmʼs Qi. Once he reached Foundation Establishment, he intended to modify it, or more likely, create his own cultivation technique from scratch.

ʼCreating a personal technique… suicidal for most. They lack the foundational knowledge, the breadth of understanding, the experience with cosmic laws.ʼ He smirked inwardly. ʼBut for me? Itʼs like an artist choosing his palette after studying the masters. My past lives, my demonic arts, my draconic insights, my comprehension of countless Daos from the Chaos cosmos… they form a knowledge base no one in this Primal Universe, perhaps even the Dragon Prince himself, could imagine.ʼ

He would forge a technique perfectly suited to his unique soul, his monstrous foundation, his boundless ambition. A technique that would allow him to soar, not crawl, through these new cultivation realms.

Lingshan eventually chose a gentle, flowing technique called ʼVerdant Water Nourishing Artʼ, well-suited for her dual Wood and Water roots, emphasizing steady growth and healing properties.

They left the Scripture Pavilion, each with their chosen jade slip. Deacon Meng then briefly showed them other outer sect facilities – the sparsely stocked Alchemy Garden where disciples could attempt to grow common spirit herbs, the noisy Forging Hall where basic spiritual tools were crafted, and the crowded outer sect training grounds.

Life as an Outer Sect Disciple of the Mystic Peak Sect had officially begun. For Lingshan, it was a daunting new world filled with wonder and challenge. For Wang Jian, it was the first, deliberately slow, step on a path that would inevitably lead him to shake the very foundations of this Primal Universe.

He would, of course, continue to ʼassistʼ Princess Lingshan. Her innate talent, her growing affection for him – she was a valuable asset, a useful pawn, and, he had to admit, an increasingly pleasant companion in this new, reduced state. Her presence made the mundane grind of outer sect life more… tolerable.

And her insights into the sectʼs inner workings, gleaned from her royal status, were already proving useful as he began to gather information on his fellow outer sect disciples, always looking for opportunities, always planning his next move.