Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 858: Bloodied Blades and Qi Refining Pellets

The narrow, shadow-draped passage reeked of spilled blood and the coppery tang of fear. The brief, brutal silence following Liu Meng’s severed arm and Junior Brother Fei’s disabling was shattered by Meifang’s enraged roar.

”You treacherous whelps! You’ll die for this!” Senior Sister Meifang, her scarred face contorted in a mask of fury, lunged at Wang Jian. Her eighth-stage Qi Condensation power surged, her longsword whistling through the air, aimed to cleave him in two.

Wang Jian met her charge, his Night Fang a dark blur. CLANG! Sparks flew as their blades met, the impact sending a jarring shock up his arm. Meifang’s raw Qi was undeniably superior.

’She’s strong. Pure power advantage. Can’t meet her head-on repeatedly.’

He didn’t try. Instead of a direct block, he angled his blade, deflecting the force of her blow, using her momentum to spin himself slightly to the side. This created a momentary opening as Meifang overextended.

Simultaneously, Senior Brother Gao, the burly man, bellowed and charged from Wang Jian’s left, his heavy cleaver arcing downwards like a falling guillotine.

’Predictable pincer. Amateur.’

Wang Jian didn’t even glance at Gao. His focus was on Meifang. As she recovered from her overextended lunge, he feinted a thrust towards her throat. She instinctively recoiled, bringing her sword up in a defensive posture.

That was the opening he needed.

Instead of completing the thrust, Wang Jian’s body twisted with impossible agility. He used Meifang’s momentary defensive focus to sidestep towards Senior Brother Gao’s incoming cleaver. It looked like suicide.

Gao, seeing Wang Jian move into his attack, let out a triumphant roar, expecting to split him in half.

But Wang Jian was faster. He ducked under the whistling arc of the cleaver, so close he could feel the wind of its passage stir his hair. As he came up, he wasn’t attacking Gao. He was using Gao’s own massive, charging body as a momentary shield against Meifang.

And his Night Fang, in a lightning-fast reverse grip, lashed out backwards towards Gao’s exposed right thigh, the one planted firmly as he swung his cleaver. A deep, Qi-infused slash.

”ARRRGH!” Gao bellowed in agony, his cleaver swing faltering as his leg buckled, blood gushing from the deep wound. He stumbled, his momentum carrying him past Wang Jian.

Meifang, momentarily blocked by Gao’s bulk, cursed in frustration. By the time she had a clear line of attack again, Wang Jian had already disengaged from Gao, spinning to face Zhao Tie, the sour-faced man who was now cautiously circling, looking for an opening.

Meanwhile, Princess Yue Lingshan, having disabled Junior Brother Fei, didn’t hesitate. Her Verdant Willow Blade, though elegant, was now an extension of her will, empowered by her Fourth Stage Qi and her surprisingly potent peak mortal physique. Fei, clutching his bleeding arm, tried to scramble away, but Lingshan was on him, her blade at his throat.

”Don’t move,” she commanded, her voice surprisingly cold, devoid of its usual melodic softness. The brutality of the situation, Wang Jian’s decisive actions, had shocked her, but also ignited a primal survival instinct.

Fei froze, his eyes wide with terror. ”Please, Junior Sister Ling... mercy...”

”Mercy is for those who don’t betray their companions,” Lingshan replied, her gaze unwavering, though her heart pounded. Wang Jian had given her a subtle nod earlier, a silent instruction she understood all too well.

Zhao Tie, seeing Gao stumble and Fei neutralized, let out a desperate yell and lunged at Wang Jian, his sword a wild flurry of strikes. He was fighting out of fear now, his earlier disdain replaced by panic.

Wang Jian met his flurry with calm precision. His Night Fang danced, parrying, deflecting, each movement economical, each block designed to create an imbalance in Zhao Tie’s wild attacks. Zhao Tie was expending Qi recklessly. Wang Jian was conserving his, using just enough to turn aside the blows.

’He’s panicking. Leaving openings everywhere.’

After a series of parries, Zhao Tie overswung, leaving his left side exposed for a fraction of a second. Wang Jian’s Night Fang flicked out like a viper’s tongue. A short, sharp thrust, infused with a precisely controlled burst of Qi, straight into Zhao Tie’s ribs, just below the armpit.

Zhao Tie gasped, a choked sound, his eyes bulging. His sword clattered to the ground. He clutched his side, a dark stain spreading rapidly on his robes. He sank to his knees, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

Only Meifang remained. She stared, her scarred face pale, her chest heaving. Liu Meng was on the ground, bleeding out from his severed arm, his initial screams now reduced to weak moans. Gao was clutching his bleeding thigh, unable to stand. Zhao Tie was kneeling, dying. Fei was at Lingshan’s mercy.

In a matter of minutes, her Stone Wolf Pack had been decimated by these two ’novices’.

”Who... what are you?” Meifang whispered, her voice hoarse, her earlier fury replaced by a chilling dread. This wasn’t just skill; this was... something else. This young man fought with the experience and ruthlessness of a seasoned killer, his every move calculated, his Qi control far beyond what a Fourth Stage cultivator should possess.

Wang Jian didn’t answer. He simply advanced on her, his Night Fang held ready. His expression was calm, almost detached, which was somehow more terrifying than open rage.

Meifang, driven by a cornered animal’s desperation, let out a final, defiant roar and charged, pouring all her remaining Eighth Stage Qi into one last, desperate attack. ”Mountain Shattering Strike!” Her sword glowed with a fierce light, aimed to crush Wang Jian with sheer power.

Wang Jian met her attack. But this time, he didn’t just deflect. He moved into her strike, his body angling, his Night Fang tracing a complex, upward arc that seemed to flow around her powerful blow, redirecting its force while simultaneously sliding along her blade towards her wrist.

It was a move of impossible grace and terrifying precision, a maneuver far beyond any outer sect technique.

Meifang felt a sharp, searing pain in her sword wrist. Her grip loosened. Her powerful strike faltered. And then, Wang Jian’s blade was at her throat.

The fight was over.

Silence, heavy and profound, descended upon the blood-soaked ground, broken only by the ragged breathing of the victors and the dying moans of the vanquished.

Wang Jian held his Night Fang steady at Meifang’s throat. ”Drop it,” he said, his voice quiet but absolute.

Meifang, defeated, her eyes filled with despair and disbelief, let her sword fall with a clatter.

Wang Jian then turned his gaze towards Princess Yue Lingshan, who still had her blade at Junior Brother Fei’s throat. Fei was blubbering, tears streaming down his face.

”Lingshan,” Wang Jian said calmly. ”Your first true test. Liu Meng, the one who leered at you. And this one, Fei, who would have stood by and watched, perhaps even participated. They chose their fate when they planned treachery.”

Yue Lingshan looked at Fei, then at the groaning Liu Meng, who was trying to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood. Her face was pale, her lips trembling slightly.

”You want me to... kill them?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

”They intended to kill us, Lingshan,” Wang Jian stated, his voice devoid of judgment, simply stating a fact. ”After they used you. In the cultivation world, hesitation often means death. Show mercy to vipers, and they will bite you when your back is turned. This is a lesson you must learn.”

He paused. ”But the choice is yours. Can you do what is necessary?” He was testing her, pushing her. He needed to see if the pampered princess could truly adapt to the brutal realities of this path.

Yue Lingshan looked at Liu Meng, remembering his oily gaze, his suggestive words. She looked at Fei, his face a mask of sniveling terror. A flicker of something hard entered her eyes. Wang Jian was right. They would have shown her no mercy.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. ”I... I can.”

She turned her gaze to Liu Meng first, who had managed to prop himself up against a rock, his face ashen, his eyes pleading.

”For your... disrespect,” Yue Lingshan said, her voice surprisingly steady, though her hand holding the Verdant Willow Blade trembled slightly. She stepped towards him.

Liu Meng tried to beg, but no words came out.

With a sudden, almost convulsive movement, Yue Lingshan thrust her sword forward. It pierced Liu Meng’s chest. He let out a choked gasp, his eyes going wide with shock, then glazing over.

Lingshan pulled her blade free, her face even paler now. She stumbled back a step, her gaze fixed on the still body of Liu Meng. The urge to vomit, to scream, was overwhelming. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Her first kill. It was... horrible. Far more real, more sickening, than any courtly execution she had witnessed from a distance.

Wang Jian watched her, his expression unreadable. ’She did it. Good. The nausea will pass. The understanding will remain.’

He then turned his attention to the remaining members of the Stone Wolf Pack. Meifang was slumped against a rock, defeated. Gao was still clutching his bleeding leg, his face contorted in pain. Zhao Tie was barely conscious, his breathing shallow.

Wang Jian walked over to Meifang. ”Any last words, Senior Sister?” he asked, his voice devoid of malice, almost conversational.

Meifang looked up at him, a bitter smile twisting her lips. ”You... you played us all, didn’t you, Junior Brother? That innocent act... masterful.”

”Survival requires adaptation,” Wang Jian replied simply. He raised his Night Fang. A swift, clean strike, and Meifang’s struggles ended.

He dispatched Gao and Zhao Tie with similar efficiency. No wasted movements, no unnecessary cruelty. Just the cold, hard finality of death.

He then walked over to where Lingshan was still struggling with her nausea, though she hadn’t actually vomited. Junior Brother Fei was sobbing uncontrollably at her feet.

”Lingshan,” Wang Jian said gently. ”The last one.”

Princess Yue Lingshan looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but resolute. She took another deep breath, then turned to Fei. Her hand was steadier this time. A single, quick thrust. Fei went silent.

She stood there for a long moment, her blade dripping, her body trembling. Then, she slowly straightened, a new, harder light in her eyes. The princess was fading; the cultivator was emerging.

”It’s... done,” she whispered.

”Good,” Wang Jian said, offering her a clean strip of cloth he’d ’found’ in his pack. ”Wipe your blade. And yourself. We need to be quick.”

He began to efficiently loot the corpses. As expected, most carried very little – a few low-grade spirit stones each, some common herbs, cheap healing salves. Pathetic.

But Meifang... Meifang was different. Tucked into her belt was a small, embroidered pouch. Wang Jian picked it up. It felt... different. He infused a wisp of his remaining Qi into it. The pouch shimmered faintly, and a small, separate space, about the size of a large melon, opened to his senses.

’A low-grade storage pouch! Excellent!’ This was a significant find.

He focused his spiritual energy, rummaging through its contents. Over forty low-grade spirit stones – a small fortune for outer sect disciples. Several jade slips – he quickly scanned them. Meifang’s primary cultivation technique, ’Stone Heart Art’, a defensive earth-elemental method. A few basic earth-based attack spells. ’Useless to me, but might fetch a decent price in another market.’

Then, he found what truly interested him. A collection of carefully bundled herbs. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized them from the Compendium. ’Star Anise Flower... Crimson Dew Berries... Ground Spirit Root... these are all prime ingredients for... Qi Refining Pellets!’

And tucked beneath the herbs, a small, rolled-up parchment. He unrolled it. A recipe. ’Recipe for Qi Refining Pellets’. It detailed the precise quantities, the preparation methods, the refinement temperatures.

’She was planning to make them herself,’ Wang Jian realized. ’The only ingredients missing from this list were the Moonshade Grass and perhaps one or two other common catalysts they came here to find. She must have been close to completing her collection.’

He then turned his attention to the massive, still-warm corpse of the Shadow Panther. ”Lingshan,” he called out, his voice businesslike. ”Help me with this. The hide is valuable. The claws and fangs can be used for crafting. And its beast core... that’s the real prize.”

He showed her how to carefully skin the beast, how to extract the sharp claws and fangs without damaging them, and finally, how to locate and remove the beast core – a small, pulsating orb of dark energy, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, nestled near its heart. He placed everything into Meifang’s storage pouch.

”Now,” he said, gesturing to the patches of Moonshade Grass and other spirit herbs growing in the ravine, ”we gather. Quickly. Follow the descriptions from the Compendium I shared with you. Only take the mature plants. Don’t damage the roots.”

They worked efficiently, stripping the ravine of its most valuable flora, Wang Jian guiding Lingshan, pointing out subtle signs of ripeness or potency she might have missed. Soon, the storage pouch was bulging with herbs.

”I’ll keep the pouch for now, Lingshan,” Wang Jian said. ”Easier to manage.”

Princess Yue Lingshan nodded without hesitation. ”Of course, Jian. It’s safer with you.”

”Good.” Wang Jian surveyed their grim handiwork – the bodies, the bloodstains. ”Now, we clean up. Leave no obvious traces. We don’t want anyone connecting these... unfortunate events... back to us.”

They dragged the bodies into a deeper crevice, covering them with rocks and loose earth. They scattered dirt over the bloodstains, erasing the signs of the struggle as best they could.

Finally, Wang Jian looked at Lingshan. She was pale, her robes stained, but her eyes held a new resilience. ”With the spirit stones we’ve acquired from them and the beast, and these herbs... I believe I have enough to rent an Earth Fire Chamber for a significant period. I intend to use these ingredients to concoct those Qi Refining Pellets.”

Yue Lingshan’s eyes lit up, a flicker of her earlier excitement returning, pushing back the lingering horror. ”Qi Refining Pellets? Truly, Jian? If you succeed... our cultivation speed...”

”It will increase dramatically,” Wang Jian finished for her. ”If the pellets are of decent quality. Which,” he added with a confident smirk, ”they will be. I have a feeling I’ll be a natural at this alchemy thing.”

They left the now truly silent passage, the chilling wind seeming to whisper secrets of their bloody deed. They made their way to a nearby river Wang Jian had noted earlier. The cool water was a blessing, washing away the grime, the sweat, and the lingering scent of blood.

Princess Yue Lingshan, even in her soaked, clinging outer sect robe, her veil discarded, looked breathtakingly beautiful. Water droplets clung to her dark hair, her skin glowed, and the damp fabric outlined her generous curves in a way that made Wang Jian’s Qi, what little he had left, stir with renewed interest.

He himself, stripped to his trousers, his own lean, muscled torso glistening with water, looked like a young war god, handsome and dangerous.

As they waited on the riverbank for their clothes to dry in the weak sunlight filtering through the trees, the tension of the battle and its aftermath began to ease. A different kind of tension, however, began to build between them.

Wang Jian reached out, pulling Yue Lingshan into his arms. She came willingly, her body fitting against his. He kissed her, a long, slow, possessive kiss that spoke of comfort, of shared secrets, of ownership. His hands roamed her damp back, pressing her closer.

”You did well today, Lingshan,” he murmured against her lips. ”You were strong.”

”Only because of you, Jian,” she whispered back, her arms around his neck.

They shared a few more soft, romantic moments, kisses deepening, touches becoming more intimate, the earlier horror momentarily forgotten in the warmth of their shared survival and burgeoning desire.

Finally, their clothes mostly dry, they pulled out their Flying Leaf artifacts.

”We’re not going back to the Azure Sky Market,” Wang Jian stated. ”Too many people saw us with the Stone Wolf Pack. If word of their ’disappearance’ spreads, questions might be asked. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

”Where then?” Yue Lingshan asked.

”There’s another cultivator market, mentioned in some of the texts I... acquired,” Wang Jian said. ”The Jade Moon Market. It’s in a different province of Yue, near the rumored territory of the Jade Moon Sect. Far enough from Azure Sky, and it should have an Earth Fire Chamber we can rent without drawing suspicion.”

And so, they flew again, their direction now north-west, towards the Jade Moon Market, their newly acquired storage pouch heavy with spoils and the promise of accelerated cultivation. The bloody events of the day were a harsh but necessary lesson, pushing them further down the cultivator’s path, a path where strength was paramount, and mercy was a luxury few could afford.

The Jade Moon Market, nestled in a valley surrounded by jade-green hills, was smaller and quieter than the chaotic Azure Sky Market, but it possessed a more refined, established atmosphere. It clearly catered to a more discerning clientele, perhaps even disciples from the elusive Jade Moon Sect itself.

Wang Jian, with his usual efficiency, quickly located the Earth Fire Chamber rental facility – a sturdy stone building emitting a constant, low hum and a faint smell of burnt spiritual herbs. He paid for two days upfront, using a significant portion of their newly acquired spirit stones.

They were assigned a small, private Earth Fire Room, its walls lined with heat-resistant bricks, a central fire pit glowing with steady, controllable earth-fire, and a sturdy stone alchemy bench.

”Alright, Lingshan,” Wang Jian said, placing the bulging storage pouch on the bench. ”Let the grand experiment begin.”

He was the primary alchemist. Lingshan, with her growing knowledge of herbs from the Compendium, assisted him in sorting, cleaning, and preparing the ingredients according to the Qi Refining Pellet recipe.

His first few attempts at pill concoction were... messy. The earth-fire was tricky to control, fluctuating wildly. He burned several batches of precious herbs, resulting in charred, useless dross, filling the small room with acrid smoke.

’Controlling external fire via spiritual energy without a proper cauldron or personal pill flame is... frustratingly imprecise,’ Wang Jian grumbled internally, though his outward expression remained calm and focused. Lingshan watched him, offering quiet encouragement, never complaining about the failures.

But Wang Jian was a terrifyingly fast learner. His powerful soul, his innate understanding of energy manipulation, his meticulous observation of Deacon Fu – it all began to click. He started to get a feel for the earth-fire’s temperament, the subtle shifts in temperature, the precise amount of Qi needed to guide the herbal essences.

By the fifth attempt, something changed. The concoction in the crude clay pot he was using (he couldn’t afford a proper cauldron yet) began to simmer evenly, the colors blending harmoniously, a fragrant aroma, not of burning, but of potent spiritual energy, filling the room.

He guided the final stages with intense concentration, his Qi flowing smoothly. Then, with a final surge, he solidified the essences. He carefully tipped the pot.

Nine small, perfectly round, jade-green pellets rolled out, each pulsing with a faint, pure light. They were smooth, lustrous, and radiated a surprisingly potent spiritual energy.

”Success!” Yue Lingshan gasped, her eyes wide with awe.

Wang Jian picked one up, examining it. ’Top-grade. Good...This is how it should be. The Bright Jade Art might cultivate slightly less dense Qi, but my soul’s control over the refinement process more than compensates.’ He smirked.

Over the next day, they worked tirelessly. Wang Jian, now having mastered the basic process, churned out batch after batch of Qi Refining Pellets. Every single one, after the initial failures, was top-grade. They exhausted all the suitable herbs from Meifang’s pouch and their own foraging, resulting in a grand total of thirty-eight lustrous, top-grade Qi Refining Pellets.

As they finally emerged from the Earth Fire Chamber, weary but triumphant, Wang Jian held up a pellet.

”Lingshan,” he said, his eyes gleaming, ”with these... reaching the higher stages of Qi Condensation will no longer be a crawl. It will be a sprint.”

Princess Yue Lingshan looked at the pellet, then at Wang Jian, her heart filled with a mixture of awe, excitement, and an ever-deepening affection for the extraordinary, dangerous man who had so completely upended her life. The path ahead was uncertain, but with him, it felt undeniably thrilling.