Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 920: Liu Ruyan Dominates The Competition

Dawn broke over the Crimson Pill Sect, painting the sky in nervous shades of purple and grey. The morning air in Liu Ruyanʼs secluded valley was unusually still. The usual chirping of spirit birds was absent, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

Inside the manor, the atmosphere was tense, focused.

Liu Ruyan emerged from her alchemy chamber after a final, all-night session of intensive meditation and refinement practice. The change in her was noticeable. The last three months of grueling, high-pressure training, guided by both her Teacherʼs orthodox wisdom and Wang Jianʼs unorthodox, almost demonic, insights, had forged her.

Her aura was no longer just gentle; it was sharp, stable, and clear. Her eyes, usually soft and shy, were bright with a focused confidence. She looked like a true master alchemist, ready for her defining moment, a sword that had been tempered in the hottest of flames.

She walked directly to Wang Jianʼs chamber and knocked softly.

The door opened, and he was revealed, already dressed, his expression calm and unreadable.

She stepped inside, and he sealed the chamber behind them.

”Jian,” she said, her voice low but steady. Her usual shyness was gone, replaced by a focused determination. ”I am ready.”

Wang Jian looked at her, truly assessing her. He nodded slowly. ”You seem... different, Ruyan. More confident.”

”I am,” she replied, her chin held high. ”The past three months... your insights, and my Teacherʼs constant guidance... my understanding of the Dao of Alchemy has deepened. Itʼs like a fog has lifted.”

She clenched her fists at her side, her knuckles white. ”My control over my spiritual flame, especially the Blood Spirit Flame, is no longer just raw power. It is precise. I can feel every wisp.” She took a deep breath, making her large breasts rise and fall. ”I… I believe I can now confidently attempt the refinement of even mid-tier Fifth Grade Pills.”

Wang Jianʼs eyebrows rose slightly. ʼFifth Grade? Impressive. Very impressive. Lianhua built a solid foundation, and my unorthodox, demonic-influenced methods pushed her over the edge. She might actually win this farce fair and square. Which... simplifies things. Or maybe makes them more complicated.ʼ

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile of approval. ”Good. Thatʼs very good, Ruyan.”

He stepped closer, his expression turning serious, his gaze intense. ”Listen to me. Remember everything youʼve learned. All of your Teacherʼs techniques. All of my little tricks. Trust your instincts. Control your flame.”

He then paused, his voice dropping, his eyes boring into hers. ”And... no matter what happens today... no matter the pressure from your rivals, or the shouts from the crowd... no matter what distractions you see or feel... your focus is solely on that cauldron. On the refinement. Let nothing else pull your attention. Nothing. Do you understand me?”

His intensity was almost frightening. Liu Ruyan, though slightly confused by the strange warning, recognized the absolute command in his voice. This was a hidden instruction, a vital one. ”Yes, Jian,” she said, her resolve hardening. ”My only focus will be the pill. Nothing else will exist.”

”Good.” He pulled her into a brief, encouraging embrace, his hand giving her ass a firm, proprietary squeeze. ”Go now, Ruyan. Show them all the true fire of the Crimson Pill Sect. Make your Teacher proud.” He pulled back, his lips curling into a grin. ”Make me proud.”

Filled with his confidence and her own newfound, hard-won skill, Liu Ruyan nodded firmly. ”I will not fail, Jian.”

She turned and left the dwelling, her back straight, her steps sure, heading towards the Grand Cauldron Arena.

The moment she was gone, Wang Jianʼs expression hardened into one of cold, focused detachment. He was no longer the supportive lover; he was the puppet master. He quickly retrieved a few specific, high-grade concealment talismans from his storage pouch, along with a single, potent, Void-Shattering Escape Talisman – his final ʼget out of jail freeʼ card, just in case.

He activated his Void-Merging Breath. His body flickered, his aura vanished, and he became a silent, invisible phantom. He slipped out of the dwelling, a ghost in the morning mist, following the growing crowds of disciples, all surging like a river towards the arena.

He needed the best seat in the house.

The Grand Cauldron Arena was a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight. It was a massive, open-air amphitheater, carved directly into the face of a mountain, capable of holding tens of thousands of spectators.

The central stage was a vast, circular platform, upon which a hundred high-grade, rune-etched stone refinement platforms were arranged in a precise, circular pattern. Each platform was connected to the mountainʼs core, equipped with its own conduit to summon the pure, powerful Earth Fire from below.

Thousands of disciples and elders were already filling the tiered seating, the air buzzing with excited, nervous chatter.

Wang Jian, a silent ghost, noted the factional divide immediately. It was stark.

”Look at that,” he mused internally, his gaze sweeping the stands. ”Theyʼre not even pretending to be unified.”

On one side, the eastern stands, sat the disciples loyal to Sect Mistress Lianhua. They were dressed in the sectʼs traditional green and white robes, and they sat quietly, their expressions anxious, casting worried glances towards the high platform where their leader would soon sit.

On the other side, the western stands, sat the boisterous, confident, almost arrogant followers of Elder Fu Yan. They wore new, flashy, crimson-red sashes tied around their waists or arms, a clear, defiant symbol of their allegiance. They were laughing, placing bets, and jeering across the arena at Lianhuaʼs supporters. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

”A clear divide,” Wang Jian noted with satisfaction. ”Easier to manage the chaos later.”

His gaze drifted up to the high platform, the ”VIP box” carved from pure white jade, reserved for the sectʼs leadership.

Sect Mistress Lianhua was already there, seated on an ornate chair. Her face was serene, composed, as elegant as ever, but Wang Jianʼs sharp eyes caught the white-knuckled grip she had on the armrest. She was worried.

Opposite her, Elder Fu Yan was leaning back in his own chair, a smug, triumphant smirk already plastered on his face. He was flanked by his key allies, including the Third Elder, and they were chatting loudly, utterly at ease, as if the outcome was already decided.

A few nervous-looking neutral elders sat awkwardly in the middle, trying their best to look impartial and clearly wishing they were anywhere else.

Wang Jian, still invisible, found his prepared spot. He had snuck in days earlier to place a single, high-grade illusion talisman in a dark alcove high up in the stands, behind a large decorative pillar. The shadow there was now just a bit deeper, a bit more ”uninteresting” to any casual spiritual sense. He settled in, a ghost in the rafters.

ʼPerfect view,ʼ he thought, his gaze able to encompass the competitorsʼ platforms, the high leadership seats, and the entire, restless crowd. ʼI can see the stage, I can see the political puppets, and I can feel the faint hum of my tampered array nodes right beneath my feet. Now, let the show begin.ʼ

A deep, resonating gong sounded, silencing the crowd. The chosen disciples for the competition began to walk out onto the arena floor.

Liu Ruyan entered, her movements calm, focused. Her aura was stable and sharp. She didnʼt look at the crowd, didnʼt look at her Master. She walked directly to her assigned platform, her eyes fixed on the cauldron before her. Lianhua gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval.

A moment later, Elder Fuʼs champion, Yao Ling, strode out. He was a handsome, arrogant young man, his chin held high. His cultivation was clearly higher than Liu Ruyanʼs, already at the peak of the early Foundation Establishment stage, and his eyes gleamed with ambition. He shot a dismissive, sneering glance at Liu Ruyan, who ignored him completely.

The other, lesser disciples from both factions quickly took their places.

A long-bearded, neutral elder – the sectʼs Great Elder – stepped forward, his voice amplified by his Qi. ”This Grand Competition, held in accordance with the Ancient Rites, will determine the stewardship of our Crimson Pill Sectʼs resources and direction for the next century!”

The crowd roared.

”There will be three rounds!” the Great Elder announced. ”Round One: Ingredient Identification and Processing! A test of speed and purity!”

”Round Two: Flame Control and Essence Extraction! A test of finesse and potency!”

”And the Final Round: Grand Refinement! The crafting of a single, designated Fifth Grade Pill: the notoriously difficult Azure Spirit Heart Pill!”

The first round began immediately. Hundreds of rare, decoy, and complexly-related herbs were presented to each competitor. Liu Ruyan was flawless. Her knowledge, drilled into her by Lianhua and supplemented by her own diligent study, was perfect. She identified and processed her entire batch with smooth, efficient, almost artful movements. Yao Ling was fast, relying on his stronger spiritual sense, but he was cruder, visibly bruising a delicate ʼSunpetalʼ and over-processing a ʼFrost Rootʼ. Liu Ruyan won the first round by a small, but clear, margin.

Elder Fuʼs smirk faltered for a second. Lianhuaʼs hands relaxed, just a fraction.

Then came the second round: Flame Control. This was where the true masters were separated from the apprentices.

”Hah! Golden Yang Flame!” Yao Ling roared, showing off. He summoned his spiritual flame, a bright, powerful, almost violent golden fire. It was impressive, a display of raw, brute-force power. He extracted the essences quickly, but Wang Jian, watching from the shadows, could see the tiny, wasted motes of energy, the impurities burning away with the essence. It was fast, but it was sloppy.

Then, it was Liu Ruyanʼs turn. She was calm. She simply raised her hand. The Blood Spirit Flame appeared. But it was not the wild, consuming fire he had seen her use in battle. The three months of relentless training had paid off. She had control. The crimson flame was a living thing. It wove like a serpent, then flattened into a ribbon, then sharpened into a set of fine, red-hot needles, all at her command. It didnʼt just burn; it caressed the herbs, separating impurities with a surgical precision that made several of the elders in the stands gasp in admiration.

”A perfect score in Round Two for Disciple Liu Ruyan!” the Great Elder announced, his voice holding a note of genuine surprise.

Now, Elder Fu wasnʼt just annoyed; he was visibly angry, his face darkening. Lianhuaʼs grip on her chair relaxed completely, a small, proud smile touching her lips.

”The competitors are now tied in points!” the Great Elder declared (Yao Lingʼs raw power had made up for his lack of finesse in points). ”It all comes down to the final, decisive round! The refinement of the Azure Spirit Heart Pill!”

Wang Jian watched, a cool approval flowing through him. ʼHer control is exquisite now. Thatʼs Lianhuaʼs orthodox training, no doubt. But the efficiency, the way sheʼs channeling the flameʼs energy without wasting a drop... thatʼs my little suggestion about resonance. My unorthodox methods clearly took root. Heh. She actually has a real chance to win this clean.ʼ

He also subtly scanned the ground, his senses brushing against the hidden array nodes. ʼStill dormant. All according to plan. Fu Yan is getting nervous. Heʼll be ready to spring his trap if his boy starts to fail.ʼ

The tension in the arena was so thick it was a physical weight. The final round. The one that decided everything.

The ingredients for the Azure Spirit Heart Pill were brought out on gleaming jade platters by neutral disciples and placed on the competitorsʼ platforms. The air buzzed with whispers.

”The Azure Spirit Heart Pill! Theyʼre actually having them refine that?”

”A true Fifth Grade pill! Not just mid-tier, but high-tier at that!”

”This is madness! The refinement takes over twelve hours!”

”Itʼs not the time thatʼs the problem, you fool, itʼs the balance! It requires the perfect fusion of the volatile, lightning-aspected Thunder-Clap Vine with the calming, icy spirit of the Thousand-Year Frost Jade!”

”One mistake, one lapse in concentration during the final Spirit Infusion... and the entire cauldron will explode! This isnʼt just a test of skill; itʼs a test of endurance and will!”

A great, resounding gong signaled the start of the final round.

All the lesser competitors, and especially Liu Ruyan and Yao Ling, moved at once. Their expressions were ones of intense, almost painful, concentration. The initial stages began: meticulously pre-heating their cauldrons, carefully, almost reverently, processing the delicate, high-grade ingredients, and then beginning the slow, careful fusion of the first, most stable essences.

The contrast in their styles was immediately obvious.

Yao Ling was all force. His Golden Yang Flame roared to life, a miniature sun in his cauldron. He was using his higher cultivation base, his raw power, to force the ingredients to fuse, suppressing their volatile natures with a heavy, tyrannical hand. It was a battle of suppression.

Liu Ruyan, on the other hand, was all grace. Her movements were fluid, precise, almost like a dance. Her crimson Blood Spirit Flame was a living thing, weaving intricate patterns, gently, patiently coaxing the essences to join, using the unique properties of her flame to soothe their conflicting natures rather than suppress them. It was a dance of control and harmony.

The sun, a tiny speck in the sky, crawled across its zenith. The hours passed. The grueling, twelve-hour refinement took its toll.

One by one, the lesser competitors began to fail, their nerve or their skill not up to the task.

BOOM!

A cauldron on the far side of the arena exploded, sending a young, soot-covered disciple flying backwards, his robes in tatters, his hopes dashed.

”Aiii! My flame! Itʼs out of control!” another disciple screamed, as his refinement turned into a pillar of acrid, black smoke, the precious ingredients burned to worthless charcoal.

Soon, only two alchemists remained: Liu Ruyan and Yao Ling. Both were pale, their foreheads beaded with sweat, their spiritual energy reserves running dangerously low. But their eyes were bright, their hands steady. Their pills were slowly, miraculously, taking shape within their cauldrons, a rich, medicinal aroma beginning to fill the entire arena.

The tension on the high platform was a physical thing.

Elder Fu Yan was no longer smirking. He was leaning forward, his eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Yao Lingʼs cauldron. He was subtly, almost invisibly, releasing a tiny, thread-like pulse of his Core Formation spiritual pressure, aimed not at Liu Ruyan, but at Yao Ling, trying to stabilize his discipleʼs flagging energy, to give him an illicit boost.

Sect Mistress Lianhua, who had been watching him like a hawk, glared. ”Elder Fu,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. ”This is a test of the disciplesʼ skill, is it not? Let us allow them to succeed, or fail, on their own merits.” Her own, powerful aura rose, forming a subtle, protective shield around both competitors, neutralizing Fu Yanʼs petty, cheating attempt.

”Sect Mistress, you wound me!” Fu Yan sneered. ”I was merely... encouraging all our worthy competitors with my spiritual presence.”

”Was that what you were doing?” Lianhua replied, her voice as cold as ice. ”Then I shall do the same.”

The invisible, high-stakes battle of wills between the two leaders made the air crackle.

Wang Jian watched it all, a cold, amused smile on his invisible face. ʼPathetic. Cheating in front of everyone.ʼ He then noted Fu Yanʼs hand, resting on the armrest, tapping out a quick, rhythmic pattern. A signal. He was signaling the Third Elder. ʼItʼs almost time. Heʼs getting nervous. He knows his boy is struggling. Heʼs preparing to spring his trap, just in case Yao Ling fails.ʼ

Both Liu Ruyan and Yao Ling, oblivious to the high-level power plays, had reached the final, most dangerous, critical stage: the Spirit Infusion.

This was it. The moment of truth. They had to inject a portion of their own purified spiritual energy into the nascent, swirling pill core to stabilize it and awaken its medicinal properties. One mistake, one tiny fluctuation, and twelve hours of work would end in a catastrophic, potentially life-threatening, explosion.

Yao Ling, his face pale and dripping with sweat, his Golden Yang Flame wavering slightly, began the infusion first. He was forcing it, his higher cultivation base his only crutch.

Liu Ruyan took a deep, steadying breath, remembering Wang Jianʼs words. ʼFocus. Only on the pill.ʼ

She became a picture of serene, perfect concentration. Her Blood Spirit Flame, which had been a raging sea, now narrowed, condensed, weaving itself into a single, impossibly fine, crimson-red needle. She guided this needle of flame, which carried a single, perfect, shimmering drop of her own spiritual energy, slowly, carefully, towards the swirling, semi-liquid pill core within her cauldron. Her expression was one of complete, total absorption in her craft.

The aroma of high-grade, completed pills, sharp and clear, began to fill the arena.

A perfect, flawless, azure-blue light began to glow from within Liu Ruyanʼs cauldron, a light purer and more stable than the slightly harsher, flickering golden light from Yao Lingʼs.

The crowd held its collective breath.

Sect Mistress Lianhua was leaning forward, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white, a dawning, desperate hope in her eyes.

Elder Fu Yanʼs face was a mask of thunder. His smirk was gone. His hand, resting on his lap, moved.

Just as Liu Ruyan was about to complete the final, delicate infusion…

Just as her pill glowed with a perfect, flawless azure light, a clear sign of a superior-grade pill, promising her a hard-won, undeniable victory…

Wang Jian sensed it.

It wasnʼt a loud noise. It wasnʼt a flash of light. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the ambient spiritual energy of the entire arena. A low, deep hum that no one else, not even the Core Formation experts focused on the stage, seemed to notice.

It was the faint, unmistakable, and terrifying thrum of Fu Yanʼs hidden, complex, and murderous arrays beginning to activate.

The trap was springing.