Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 943: Mu Lianhua’s Sneak Attacks

The sun hung low over the battlefield, a blood-red orb obscured by the smoke of a thousand burning talismans. The noise of the main conflict—the clash of armies at the Spirit Mines—was a distant, rolling thunder, a constant backdrop to the silent, deadly work happening in the shadows of the hinterlands.

Wang Jian moved through the canopy of a twisted, ancient forest deep behind the Mystic Peak Sect’s lines. He wasn’t walking; he was drifting, a phantom carried on the wind. His Void-Merging Breath was fully active, wrapping him in a shroud of nothingness. To the spiritual senses of the wandering beasts and patrolling disciples, he simply did not exist.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him, or rather, seemingly floating in the distorted air next to him, was Sect Mistress Mu Lianhua. She was draped in a high-grade concealment cloak Wang Jian had looted from the Silent Puppet Guild, but the primary masking force was Wang Jian’s own Stellar Qi, which he had wrapped around her like a second skin.

”He’s close,” Wang Jian projected his voice directly into her mind. ”Keep your aura locked down tight, Lianhua. If a single wisp of Core Formation pressure leaks out, he’ll bolt like a frightened rabbit.”

”I understand... Master,” Mu Lianhua’s mental voice replied. There was a hesitancy there, a lingering thread of resistance that Wang Jian found delicious. She knew who they were hunting.

They were stalking Elder Feng Wu.

Elder Feng Wu was a Core Formation Elder of the Mystic Peak Sect—Lianhua’s nominal ally, a man she had likely sat in council with, perhaps even traded tea with. He was a sturdy, righteous cultivator known for his wind-attribute techniques.

But right now, Elder Feng Wu was prey.

They found him resting in a secluded, rocky canyon, hidden beneath the overhang of a massive cliff. He was in bad shape. His left arm was missing below the elbow, the stump cauterized but still oozing dark, poisoned blood. His robes were shredded, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. He was clutching a glowing communication talisman, trying to stabilize his breathing.

Wang Jian and Mu Lianhua perched on a tree branch overlooking the canyon, invisible and silent.

”Look at him,” Wang Jian murmured, his voice a vibration in the air. ”He’s trying to refine the poison from his wound. He’s vulnerable. Weak.”

”He is... Elder Feng Wu,” Mu Lianhua whispered, her physical voice barely audible. ”He is a good man, Jian. He opposed Fu Yan’s aggression in the past. He is loyal to the Mystic Peak Sect.”

”And that loyalty got his arm chopped off,” Wang Jian countered coldly. ”Look at his finger, Lianhua. The storage ring.”

Mu Lianhua looked. Elder Feng Wu wore a heavy, jade storage ring on his remaining hand. It glowed with a faint, protective luster.

”He was in charge of the western supply depot before the front collapsed,” Wang Jian explained, his logic cold and predatory. ”That ring doesn’t just contain his personal wealth. It contains the emergency spirit stone reserves, the high-grade healing pills meant for the front lines, and likely several crates of rare artifacts. If he dies here—and he will die, that poison is eating his heart meridian—some Azure Sword disciple will find him and get rich. Or a beast will eat him and the ring will be lost in the dung.”

He turned his head, looking at her through the veil of their concealment. ”We aren’t killing an ally, Lianhua. We are... salvaging resources. Resources I need to make you stronger. Resources we need to survive.”

”But to kill him ourselves...”

”He is suffering,” Wang Jian cut her off. ”End it. Quickly. Painlessly. Use the Azure Sky-Heart Flame. Make it instant. Do not let him feel a thing.”

He reached out, his hand gripping her shoulder, his fingers digging into her flesh. The Slave Seal on her abdomen pulsed, a warm, demanding heat that sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through her core, overriding her moral hesitation.

”This is an order, Pet.”

Mu Lianhua shuddered. The command slammed into her soul, bypassing her conscience. Her body moved before her mind could protest further.

”Yes, Master,” she breathed, her eyes going dull, focused only on the target.

She stepped off the branch, floating silently down into the canyon. She didn’t reveal herself. She positioned herself directly behind the meditating, wounded Elder.

Elder Feng Wu gasped, his eyes snapping open. He sensed something—a disturbance in the wind, a sudden, terrifying pressure.

”Who is th—”

He spun around, summoning his remaining Qi, a gust of wind forming around his good hand.

But he was too slow. He was wounded, exhausted, and facing a Peak Late-Stage Core Formation expert who had the element of absolute surprise.

Mu Lianhua raised her hand. She didn’t use a flashy, explosive technique that would draw attention. She pointed her index finger.

”Azure Pierce.”

A beam of concentrated, blindingly blue fire—the compressed essence of her Heavenly Flame—shot from her fingertip. It was no thicker than a needle, but it burned with the intensity of a star.

It bypassed Elder Feng Wu’s hastily erected wind shield as if it were paper. It struck him directly in the center of his forehead.

There was no scream. No explosion. Just a soft hiss as the intense heat vaporized bone and brain matter instantly.

The light faded from Elder Feng Wu’s eyes before his brain could even register the attack. His body went rigid, then slumped forward, hitting the rocky ground with a heavy thud.

It was a perfect assassination.

Wang Jian dropped down from the tree, landing lightly beside the corpse. He was grinning.

”Flawless,” he praised, walking over to Mu Lianhua. He didn’t look at the dead body; he looked at her. He reached out and cupped her cheek. ”You did well. No hesitation at the end. That is what I like to see.”

Mu Lianhua was trembling slightly, looking down at the man she had just murdered. ”I... I killed him. A fellow Daoist.”

”You liberated his assets,” Wang Jian corrected, stepping past her. He crouched by the body. He grabbed the remaining hand and stripped the jade storage ring from the finger.

He sent his spiritual sense inside, breaking the fading imprint of the dead Elder with a brute-force surge of his Stellar Qi.

His eyes lit up.

”Jackpot,” he laughed softly. ”Oh, this is beautiful. Ten thousand high-grade spirit stones. Crates of ’Seven-Leaf Spirit Mending Grass’. Hundreds of bottles of ’Qi-Restoration Pellets’. And... hello, what’s this? A map of the Mystic Peak Sect’s hidden fallback arrays?”

He stood up, tossing the ring in his hand before pocketing it. ”This alone was worth the trip.”

He looked at the corpse. ”Can’t leave evidence.”

He turned to Mu Lianhua. ”Burn it. To ash. Leave nothing but dust.”

Mu Lianhua looked at the body of Elder Feng Wu. She closed her eyes for a second, saying a silent prayer, then opened them. They were cold again. She was the weapon.

She waved her hand. A wave of azure fire washed over the corpse. The intense heat incinerated flesh, bone, and clothing in seconds, leaving only a pile of grey ash that the wind quickly scattered.

”Dust to dust,” she whispered.

Wang Jian walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He kissed the side of her neck.

”See?” he murmured. ”He feels no pain. And we are richer. It is the law of the jungle, Lianhua. We eat, or we are eaten. Now... let’s go find something that will make you feel less guilty. Let’s go kill an enemy.”

They moved east, crossing the invisible line that separated the skirmish zones. The terrain grew rockier, more treacherous. This was Azure Sword Clan territory.

Here, they didn’t have to hide their intent as much. They were hunting tigers now.

Wang Jian’s target was specific. His spies—the Shadow Flowers—had relayed the position of a notorious Azure Sword Clan Elder known as Elder Tie Jian, or ”Iron-Sword”.

Tie Jian was a Mid-Stage Core Formation expert, famous for his arrogance and his cruelty. He didn’t just kill Mystic Peak disciples; he hunted them for sport. He was currently patrolling a ridge known as the ”Razor’s Edge,” looking for stragglers to torment.

Wang Jian spotted him from a distance. Tie Jian was a tall, broad-shouldered man with iron-grey hair and a massive greatsword strapped to his back. He was currently standing over the body of a Mystic Peak Deacon, laughing as he wiped blood from his blade.

”Pathetic!” Tie Jian roared to the empty air. ”Is this the best Mystic Peak has to offer? Rats and cowards!”

Wang Jian observed him from behind a boulder. ”Mid-Stage Core Formation. Strong physical defense. Heavy hitter. But he’s arrogant. He relies on his sword aura to crush opponents.”

He turned to Mu Lianhua. ”He’s strong. A frontal assault might draw attention if he flares his aura too much. We need to trap him. Silence him before he can signal for help.”

”How?” Mu Lianhua asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the Azure Sword Elder. Unlike Feng Wu, she felt no qualms about killing this man. He was an enemy, a butcher.

”I’ll be the bait,” Wang Jian said with a smirk. ”He likes to hunt rats? I’ll give him a rat.”

He adjusted his robes, messing up his hair, and suppressed his cultivation aura down to the Late Stage of Foundation Establishment. He pulled out a flashy, high-grade storage pouch and tied it conspicuously to his belt.

”Wait for my signal,” he told her. ”When he commits... crush him.”

Wang Jian stepped out from behind the boulder, purposely stumbling, kicking a rock loose.

Clatter.

Elder Tie Jian spun around instantly, his eyes locking onto Wang Jian.

Wang Jian feigned absolute terror. He froze, eyes wide, then turned and scrambled away, running with a clumsy, panicked gait, clutching his storage pouch protectively.

”Hah!” Tie Jian bellowed, his eyes lighting up with predatory glee. ”Another rat! And a fat one, by the looks of that pouch!”

”Don’t kill me!” Wang Jian screamed, his voice cracking perfectly. ”I’m just a courier! I have spirit stones! Take them!”

”I’ll take your head and your stones, boy!” Tie Jian roared.

He didn’t even bother flying. He charged, his heavy boots pounding the rock, enjoying the chase. He wanted to run this little rat down.

Wang Jian ran into a narrow ravine, a dead end boxed in by high cliffs. He reached the end, turning around, pressing his back against the stone wall, chest heaving.

Tie Jian slowed to a walk, blocking the exit. He drew his massive greatsword, the metal singing.

”Nowhere left to run, little rat,” Tie Jian grinned, his teeth yellow. ”Hand over the pouch, and I might make it quick.”

Wang Jian’s terrified expression suddenly vanished. He stood up straight, brushing dust off his robes. A cool, mocking smile replaced the fear.

”You are fast, old man,” Wang Jian said, his voice calm and steady. ”But not fast enough.”

Tie Jian paused, confused by the sudden change in demeanor. ”What?”

”You really should watch your surroundings,” Wang Jian tutted.

Tie Jian felt a chill run down his spine. His instincts screamed at him. He raised his sword. ”Die, fool!”

He swung.

But the blow never landed.

The air pressure in the ravine suddenly multiplied tenfold. It was as if the sky itself had collapsed on top of him.

”KNEEL!” a female voice commanded, cold and imperious.

Mu Lianhua stepped out of the void directly above Tie Jian. She wasn’t hiding anymore. She unleashed her full, Peak Late-Stage Core Formation aura. It crashed down on the Mid-Stage Elder like a hammer.

Tie Jian’s knees buckled. His sword swing was arrested in mid-air, pushed down by an invisible hand.

”Peak... Core... Formation?!” he wheezed, his eyes bulging. ”Who...?!”

Mu Lianhua didn’t answer. She formed a complex hand seal.

”Nine-Lotus Suppression Art.”

Illusory, azure lotus flowers bloomed in the air around Tie Jian. Nine of them. They spun, releasing chains of pure spiritual binding energy that wrapped around his arms, his legs, his throat, and his sword.

Tie Jian roared, his Qi flaring as he tried to break free, but the gap in cultivation was too vast. He was immobile, pinned like an insect in a display case.

”Now, Master!” Mu Lianhua called out.

Wang Jian stepped forward. He drew his demonic saber, ’Blood’s Thirst’. The blade hummed with a dark, hungry red light.

He didn’t use a simple slash. He channeled his Stellar Qi, compressing it into the edge of the blade until it vibrated with a frequency that could sever space.

”Stellar Severing Slash.”

He moved. He was a shadow passing through the light.

He walked past the immobilized Elder Tie Jian, sheathing his saber with a soft click.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, a thin red line appeared on Tie Jian’s thick, muscular neck.

The Elder tried to speak, but only a gurgle emerged. His head slid slowly off his shoulders, hitting the ground with a wet thud. His body remained standing for a moment, held up by the lotus chains, blood fountaining from the stump.

Wang Jian turned back. He saw a small, translucent, panicked shape rising from the corpse—Tie Jian’s soul, trying to flee to reincarnation.

Wang Jian opened his mouth. He didn’t speak. He inhaled.

A vortex of Stellar Qi formed in his mouth. It caught the screaming soul.

Slurp.

He swallowed the soul whole, his demonic scripture processing the spiritual essence instantly. It was spicy, full of rage and sword intent.

”Delicious,” Wang Jian muttered, his eyes flashing red for a moment.

He walked to the headless corpse. He stripped it efficiently. The storage ring. The armor. And the massive greatsword.

He lifted the sword. ”Quasi-Earth Grade,” he assessed. ”Heavy. brutal. Not my style, but it will fetch a high price. Or maybe I can melt it down to upgrade Chen Ying’s blade.”

He walked over to Mu Lianhua, who was descending gracefully to the ground, the lotus chains fading away.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her into a passionate, adrenaline-fueled kiss, right there next to the spraying blood.

”Excellent suppression, my dear,” he murmured against her lips. ”We make a perfect team. The bait and the hammer.”

Mu Lianhua flushed, the violence and the praise mixing into a heady cocktail. ”He... he was arrogant. He deserved it.”

”They all deserve it,” Wang Jian said. ”Because they have things I want.”

He released her. ”Clean the site. Scorch the earth. Make it look like a chaotic energy explosion. No traces of our specific arts.”

They scrubbed the ravine clean, leaving behind only a blackened scar on the earth, another unsolved mystery of the war.

Night fell over the Iron-Root Hollow.

The secret cave system, protected by Yue Lingshan’s ever-improving arrays, was a beacon of warmth and luxury in the cold, hostile badlands.

The group regrouped in the main cavern. It was a strange, domestic scene amidst a war zone.

The five married maids—Li Mei and her sisters—greeted them at the entrance. They were dressed in clean, practical robes, their faces glowing with health thanks to the steady diet of cultivation pills.

”Welcome back, Master! Welcome back, Mistresses!” Li Mei chirped, bowing low. ”We have prepared a feast. Roast spirit-boar and wine.”

They had also drawn hot baths in the side chambers, heated by geothermal vents. They were the perfect logistics team, keeping the home front comfortable while the warriors hunted.

Wang Jian walked to the center of the cavern. ”Dump it,” he ordered.

They emptied their storage pouches.

A mountain of loot spilled onto the stone floor. It was a staggering amount of wealth. Piles of spirit stones, stacks of artifacts, crates of pills, bundles of rare herbs. The day’s harvest from hunting both enemies and ’allies’ was immense.

Yue Lingshan sat down by the pile, her eyes gleaming as she began to sort the artifacts.

”This sword...” she picked up a blue blade. ”It’s Azure Sword Clan standard issue, but enhanced with wind runes. High quality. We can sell this on the black market for at least five thousand spirit stones.”

She picked up a defensive talisman. ”Mystic Peak Sect issue. Deacon level. Unused. Useful.”

Wang Jian stood over the pile of spirit stones, doing a quick mental count. ”Fifty thousand,” he estimated. ”Plus the materials. Enough to fuel our cultivation for months. And the war is just beginning.”

He looked around at his harem. They were all there. Mu Lianhua, regal and powerful. Yue Lingshan, clever and devoted. Chen Ying, sharpening her blade in the corner, her wolves sleeping at her feet. Liu Ruyan, organizing the new herbs. The Shadow Flowers—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—who had just returned from their own mercenary missions, looking tired but triumphant, adding their own smaller piles of loot to the mountain.

”Good work, everyone,” Wang Jian announced.

He picked up a handful of jade bottles—’Blood-Bursting Pills’ and ’Qi-Restoration Pellets’. He tossed them to the women.

”Take these. Keep growing strong. The chaos is our ladder, and we are climbing it fast.”

He walked over to Yue Lingshan. He didn’t care who was watching. He pulled her onto his lap in front of everyone.

”You fought well today, wife,” he said loudly, ensuring everyone heard. ”Your arrays were perfect.”

He kissed her deeply.

Chen Ying watched from her corner, her face impassive, but her hand tightened on her sword hilt. Mu Lianhua watched, a flicker of envy in her eyes, but she lowered her head submissively. Liu Ruyan smiled, knowing her turn would come later in the dark.

Wang Jian released Lingshan and looked at Chen Ying. ”Report. What is the status of the front?”

Chen Ying stood up, her voice crisp. ”The Azure Sword Clan is pushing hard towards the Spirit Mines in Sector 7. The Mystic Peak Sect is retreating to the second defensive line. Casualties are high on both sides.”

Mu Lianhua spoke up from her seat. ”If they take the mines, the Mystic Peak Sect will lose their primary source of localized spiritual pressure. They will be forced to use their reserve ancestors. The Nascent Soul ancestors.”

”Nascent Soul...” Wang Jian mused.

”Yes,” Mu Lianhua nodded. ”Once the mines fall, the war will escalate. The old monsters will come out. The destruction will be... catastrophic.”

Wang Jian grinned. ”Good. When the Nascent Souls fight, the chaos will be absolute. Their clashes will shatter formations, destroy vaults, and leave entire regions unguarded. That is when we will strike the main supply depots.”

He leaned back, relaxing. Li Mei immediately stepped up behind him and began to massage his shoulders, her strong hands working out the tension. He closed his eyes, enjoying the harem he had built amidst the bloodshed. It was good to be the King.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

He sat up straight, pushing Li Mei’s hands away gently.

The air in the cave seemed to shiver. The spiritual energy, which had been flowing smoothly, suddenly turbulent.

”Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice low.

He looked at Mu Lianhua. As the strongest cultivator present, she felt it too.

”A... a dark wind,” she whispered, her face paling slightly. ”It’s coming from the west. Something... something ancient. Malevolent. Vast.”

Wang Jian stood up, striding to the cave entrance. He looked out into the night.

The horizon to the west, usually dark, was glowing with a bruised, unnatural purple light. The wind blowing into the canyon carried a new scent. It wasn’t the metallic tang of fresh blood anymore.

It smelled of rot. Of old, dried blood. Of graveyard dirt and cloying, sweet perfume.

”We vultures aren’t the only ones coming to the feast,” Wang Jian said, his voice grim but his eyes burning with a new, dangerous excitement.

”The demons have arrived.”