Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 897: Yue Lingshan’s Screams and Moans

Chapter 900:

Wang Jian’s invitation hung in the air, a silken thread of casual hospitality woven with the steel of an unspoken command. The two guest beauties, each a powerhouse in her own right, found themselves in a delicate, precarious position.

To refuse his offer of lodging would be a direct, public slight. In the highly nuanced world of cultivator etiquette, rejecting such a ”magnanimous” offer of protection from a host, especially after a secret and potentially treasonous meeting, would be seen as an act of profound distrust and disrespect. It would shatter the fragile alliance they had just formed.

To accept, however... to accept meant stepping deeper into his web, spending a night under his roof, subject to his whims, his desires, his terrifying, irresistible presence.

Liu Ruyan’s heart was a frantic, fluttering bird in her chest.

’Stay the night?’ she thought, her mind reeling. ’Here? With him? And with... her?’ She risked a glance at Yue Lingshan, whose beautiful face was a mask of serene, wifely grace, as if this were the most natural suggestion in the world. ’Does she not see the danger? The impropriety? Or... does she simply not care?’

A part of her, the disciplined, righteous alchemist, screamed in protest. ’This is madness! I should leave! Make my excuses, return to the safety of my sect, and never see this man again!’

But another, deeper, and far more honest part of her whispered a different, more seductive song. The memory of his touch in the other cave, the taste of his lips, the overwhelming pleasure he had so effortlessly given her... it was a fire that had been smoldering in her soul for months. The thought of spending an entire night so close to him, of what might happen in the quiet, secret hours after the moon had set... it was a terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly irresistible thought.

Chen Ying’s reaction was far colder, but her inner turmoil was no less intense.

’Stay?’ she thought, her mind a fortress of icy calculation, though a traitorous heat was beginning to melt its foundations. ’He is planning something. He does not do things without purpose.’ Her gaze flickered to Wang Jian. He was looking at her, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips, as if he could hear her very thoughts. It sent a shiver of fear and, to her eternal shame, a jolt of raw excitement through her.

She remembered his command, his promise. ’I will visit you. Regularly.’ Was this a visit? Or something more? And with the others present? The thought of him taking her again, perhaps while his other women watched, or even... participated... it was a fantasy of such profound, degrading debauchery that it made her magnificent, full breasts ache and a wet, humiliating heat pool between her thighs.

’I hate him,’ she thought, her nails digging into her palms. ’I hate what he has turned me into.’ But she could not deny the truth. She was his slave. And the thought of disobeying her Master’s unspoken command was more terrifying than any potential humiliation.

Yue Lingshan, playing the part of the perfect, oblivious hostess, was the one who sealed their fate.

”What a wonderful idea, Jian!” she exclaimed, her voice a melody of pure, innocent enthusiasm. She turned to the two guests, her smile radiant. ”The hour is indeed late. You must both be exhausted. Please, stay. Our dwelling is simple, but we have more than enough space. I will prepare the guest chamber for you myself.”

Her words, so warm and genuine, left no room for refusal.

Wang Jian smiled, a slow, predatory smile of triumph. ”It is settled, then.”

He led the two women from the main hall, down a short, smoothly carved stone corridor. ”Our humble home is designed for seclusion,” he explained conversationally. ”I find that a quiet environment is most conducive to... profound breakthroughs.”

He stopped before a heavy, darkwood door. ”This will be your chamber for the night,” he said, pushing it open.

The guest chamber was as luxurious as the rest of the dwelling. A large, comfortable-looking bed was laden with soft beast furs and silken pillows. A small table and a few chairs sat near a window that overlooked a moonlit waterfall in their private garden. It was a beautiful, serene room.

”Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Wang Jian said, his gaze lingering on Chen Ying for a fraction of a second too long, a silent, possessive look that made her heart hammer. ”Lingshan and I will retire to our own chambers. Rest well. We have much to discuss in the morning.”

He gave them both a charming, polite nod, then turned and walked away, Yue Lingshan on his arm, the perfect picture of a loving, considerate host.

The moment the door to their own master bedroom closed, Yue Lingshan turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a possessive, jealous light. ”Jian,” she whispered, her hands coming up to circle his neck. ”They are beautiful, are they not? Especially that Chen Ying. So proud. So... voluptuous.”

Wang Jian chuckled, pulling her close. ”Are you worried I might be... tempted, my love?”

”Perhaps,” she admitted, her lips brushing his. ”You must promise me, Jian. Tonight, you are mine. And mine alone.”

”You have my word, my beautiful, jealous queen,” he murmured, and then his mouth descended on hers, his passion for her seeming to erase all thought of their guests.

But it was all a performance. A lie.

In the guest chamber, Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan stood in a tense, awkward silence. The door was closed. They were alone. Two beautiful, powerful women, rivals in their sects, and now, unknowingly, rivals for the affections of the same demonic master.

”Well,” Chen Ying said finally, her voice a cool, indifferent blade as she began to unfasten her outer robe. ”It seems we are to be roommates for the night.”

Liu Ruyan nodded, her own hands moving to her veil. ”It seems so, Senior Sister Chen.”

They prepared for bed in a silence thick with unspoken thoughts.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Wang Jian was making love to Yue Lingshan. But his usual tenderness was gone, replaced by a fierce, almost savage passion that left her breathless. He was deliberately, calculatedly, loud.

His hands were rough on her magnificent body, his kisses bruising, his thrusts deep and punishing. He pulled her hair, he bit her neck, he smacked her plump, curvy buttocks, his actions a brutal symphony of dominant, animalistic lust.

Yue Lingshan, who had come to adore his dominant side, was overwhelmed, completely lost in the storm of his passion. She screamed his name, her moans loud and unrestrained, her body arching and convulsing as he drove her to climax after climax with a relentless, seemingly inexhaustible stamina.

”Jian... ah... YES! Harder! Fuck me, Jian! FUCK ME!” she cried out, her voice a raw, primal scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

She thought his passion was for her, a celebration of their shared victories, of their deepening love.

She had no idea that her cries of ecstasy were a performance, a carefully orchestrated symphony for an audience of two in the next room.

Wang Jian had, with a masterful, undetectable pulse of his spiritual energy, disabled the Soundproof Array she had so diligently activated around their chamber.

Every wet slap of flesh on flesh, every guttural growl from his throat, every one of her piercing, ecstatic screams, traveled through the stone walls and into the guest chamber with perfect, horrifying clarity.

Liu Ruyan, who had just laid down on her side of the bed, froze. Her eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing a deep, burning crimson. She could hear them. She could hear everything. The sheer, savage intensity of it... it made her body tremble, a hot, aching need instantly igniting between her legs.

’Heavens... they are... he is so... vigorous,’ she thought, her mind reeling. The sounds were so explicit, so raw, they painted a vivid, humiliatingly arousing picture in her mind.

Chen Ying, who had been stiffly meditating on her side of the bed, also heard it. Her eyes snapped open, a storm of complex emotions raging within them. It was jealousy, a fierce, black, and bitter jealousy that was so intense it was a physical pain in her chest.

’That is how he fucks his queen,’ she thought, her nails digging into her palms. ’Loudly. Proudly. For the whole world to hear. While I... I am his secret, his silent whore, fucked in the dark, my moans stifled by his hand.’

The sounds continued, growing more intense, more frantic. Yue Lingshan’s screams became a continuous, breathless litany of his name.

”WANG JIAN! WANG JIAN! I’M COMING! OH GODS, I’M COMING AGAIN!”

The sound of her thirtieth climax, a raw, soul-shattering scream of pure, female ecstasy, finally faded, replaced by the sound of her ragged, exhausted panting, and then, a deep, contented silence.

In the guest chamber, the air was thick with the scent of unfulfilled desire. Both Liu Ruyan and Chen Ying were breathing heavily, their own bodies slick with a sweat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. They lay in the darkness, not speaking, each lost in her own turbulent thoughts, their bodies aching, their minds reeling from the auditory assault they had just been subjected to.

After what felt like an eternity, they heard the soft sound of a door opening and closing.

Then, silence.

The night deepened, wrapping the Azure Stream Valley in a blanket of profound silence and silver moonlight. The intense, strategic discussions in Wang Jian’s main hall had concluded, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere of shared secrets and simmering ambition. The future was uncertain, fraught with a war that threatened to consume their entire sect, but within the walls of this private sanctuary, a different, more primal kind of storm was brewing.

Yue Lingshan, her mind still buzzing from the revelations and the weight of their plans, eventually felt the day’s tension give way to a soft, weary exhaustion. Wang Jian, ever the attentive lover, noticed the faint droop of her eyelids, the gentle slump of her shoulders.

”You are tired, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soft, intimate rumble. ”Let us rest.”

He led her to their master bedroom, a vast, opulent chamber carved from the heart of the mountain. The air was cool and fragrant, and the only light came from the moon, filtering through a large, crystal-clear opening in the ceiling that offered a breathtaking view of the starry heavens.

He helped her out of her elegant robes with a tenderness that was a stark, loving contrast to the cold, calculating strategist he had been just moments before. He laid her down on the massive bed, its surface a sea of the softest, most luxurious beast furs, and gently pulled a silken sheet over her magnificent form.

”Sleep well, my beautiful queen,” he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, a sleepy, contented smile. ”You will join me soon, Jian?”

”Soon,” he promised. ”I just need a moment to clear my mind.”

She believed him. She trusted him completely. And as she drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber, her mind filled with dreams of their bright, powerful future together, she was utterly, blissfully oblivious to the depraved performance that was about to begin.

The moment her breathing evened out, the moment he was certain she was lost to the world, the tenderness on Wang Jian’s face vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory hunger. He stood, his expression unreadable, and listened.

He heard the faint, almost inaudible sounds from the guest chamber—the soft rustle of fabric, a quiet, nervous cough.

They were awake. They were waiting.

He moved silently from the bedroom, his bare feet making no sound on the cool stone floor. He paused before a large, ornate bronze mirror in the main hall. He looked at his reflection. His hair was slightly disheveled from Lingshan’s loving caresses. His eyes, however, burned with a dark, insatiable fire.

He had promised Yue Lingshan a night of rest. He had not made the same promise to himself.

He walked to the guest chamber door. He did not knock. He simply pushed it open and entered, a silent, powerful shadow invading their space.

The room was dimly lit by a single, low-burning spirit lamp. The air was thick with a palpable, electric tension.

Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan were sitting on their respective sides of the large bed, their bodies stiff, their postures radiating a mixture of fear, anticipation, and a deep, unwilling arousal. They had tried to sleep, to meditate, to ignore the tempest of emotions that the evening’s meeting had stirred within them.

It was a futile effort.

They had heard everything. Every word of praise Wang Jian had showered upon Yue Lingshan, every promise of a shared future, every loving whisper. And it had been a unique, exquisite form of torture for them both.

Now, seeing him stand before them in the doorway, his powerful frame a menacing silhouette, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, their hearts hammered against their ribs.

He closed the door behind him with a soft, definitive click that echoed in the silent room like a death knell.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was a cold, absolute declaration that shattered their pretense of sleep.

”Stop pretending.”