Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 996: The Ice Heart Palace’s Plea

Following the intense, strategically vital council within the subterranean chambers of the Isle of Whispering Petals, Wang Jian had officially sent the three Shadow Flowers—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—back to their respective, heavily monitored factions. His parting orders had been absolute, laced with meticulous, paranoid calculation: they were to entirely, flawlessly conceal the terrifying truth of their rapid, pill-induced breakthroughs to the Core Formation Realm. They were explicitly forbidden from displaying their new, overwhelming power immediately. Instead, over the course of the next few months, they were to slowly, subtly, and methodically reveal their newly acquired strength. They were instructed to carefully fabricate highly believable stories of miraculous fortunes, ancient legacies discovered in treacherous, uncharted ruins, or sudden, heaven-sent enlightenment during life-or-death missions.

By perfectly masking their explosive, unnatural growth, the three beautiful spies would seamlessly ascend to even higher, deeply entrenched positions of authority within the Azure Wave Sword Sect, the Blood Shark Hall, and the mercantile guilds of the Myriad Ocean Palace. This deliberate, patient strategy ensured they would firmly establish themselves as indispensable, high-ranking assets without drawing the paranoid, lethal scrutiny of any roaming Nascent Soul inquisitors.

Months passed in a steady, highly productive rhythm. The Isle of Whispering Petals remained entirely hidden from the outside world, masked by Yue Lingshan’s flawless arrays. It operated as a silent, heavily fortified factory, tirelessly churning out advanced armaments, refining high-tier pills, and cultivating a terrifying, highly disciplined private army of elite female cultivators.

And while his faction quietly, aggressively gathered absolute power in the shadows, Wang Jian ensured that his personal life remained a vibrant tapestry of endless, decadent indulgence.

At this very moment, deep within his private, lavishly decorated chambers on the Isle of Whispering Petals, Wang Jian was indulging in an incredibly decadent, highly exhausting session of pure, unbridled lust.

The heavy, reinforced spirit-wood doors of the expansive bedchamber were firmly locked, and the ambient lighting was provided by dozens of soft, warm, crimson-tinted spirit lamps. The lamps cast a deeply erotic, flickering red glow over the room, throwing long, dancing shadows against the polished stone walls. The air was incredibly thick, saturated with the heavy, intoxicating musk of sweat, slick arousal, and the overwhelming, undeniable scent of unadulterated sexual debauchery.

Wang Jian lay sprawled across the massive, custom-built, silk-draped bed. He was entirely naked, his dark, impeccably muscled physique gleaming with a healthy sheen of perspiration. He was a predator completely in his element, entirely surrounded by the incredibly sexy, large-breasted, mature beauties he had so thoroughly, completely conquered: Shangguan Wan’er, Hua Yimei, and Mu Lianhua.

He was not cultivating. He was not manipulating elemental energies or refining profound Qi. He was acting purely on raw, animalistic instinct, fucking for the absolute, selfish sake of his own boundless lust and endless stamina.

He was currently fucking Shangguan Wan’er with brutal, relentless, bone-jarring force.

The former Mistress of the Golden-Scale Auction House was positioned on her hands and knees, her face pressed deeply into the plush, sweat-dampened silk pillows. She wore an extremely sheer, slutty black lace dress that had been entirely pushed up around her narrow waist, completely exposing the lower half of her body. Her incredibly curvy, plump, voluminous buttocks were elevated high in the air, bearing the full, devastating brunt of his physical assault.

Wang Jian gripped her wide, flare-shaped hips with bruising, possessive strength, his calloused fingers digging deeply into her very fair, sensitive skin. His massive, rock-hard, heavily veined dick was completely burying itself in her dripping, incredibly tight pussy. He pulled out almost to the tip before slamming back in with terrifying, kinetic force.

“Ahhh! Yes, Master! Ruin me! Pound your slutty merchant! Faster! Ahhh!” Shangguan Wan’er shrieked at the top of her lungs, her voice hoarse from hours of screaming. Her incredibly curvy, plump buttocks bounced wildly, jiggling with every devastating impact against his driving hips.

SLAP! SQUELCH! SLAP!

“Take this cock, Wan’er,” Wang Jian growled, his voice a low, dirty rumble that vibrated through the sultry air. “Tell me how much you love having your sophisticated, arrogant ass clapped red by my dick.”

“I love it! Ah! I love it, Master! Clap it! Ruin my pussy! I am just a hole for you! Ahhhh!” Shangguan Wan’er sobbed in absolute, masochistic ecstasy, pushing her hips backward to meet his brutal thrusts, her inner walls clamping down greedily on his thick shaft.

While he relentlessly pounded the subjugated merchant, his hands were far from idle. He was aggressively, violently kneading the massive, soft, incredibly heavy breasts of Hua Yimei and Mu Lianhua, who were kneeling obediently on either side of his muscular torso.

Hua Yimei, the former Sect Leader, wore a torn, sheer crimson mesh top that did absolutely nothing to contain her abundant flesh. Mu Lianhua, the mature master alchemist, wore only a few translucent white silk ribbons that bit deeply into her luscious curves. Both women were panting heavily, their faces flushed bright red with intense arousal as they leaned over his body, offering their massive chests to his punishing hands.

“Are these heavy tits leaking for me, Lianhua?” Wang Jian taunted, roughly squeezing the mature alchemist’s left breast, mashing the soft globe of flesh until it bulged between his fingers. “They feel so incredibly full. Like they belong to a mindless breeding sow begging to be milked.”

“Yes! Oh, heavily… they are yours to squeeze, Master! Pinch them harder! Ruin my breasts!” Mu Lianhua moaned breathlessly, her eyes rolling back as she aggressively pressed her chest deeper into his punishing palm.

Wang Jian obliged, his fingers finding the heavy, jeweled emerald piercing punched through her tight pink nipple. He ruthlessly pulled and twisted the jewelry, stretching the sensitive flesh until she let out a high-pitched, stuttering shriek of profound, overwhelming pleasure.

He turned his attention to the other side, his right hand violently grabbing Hua Yimei’s massive, bouncing breast.

“Your piercings are practically begging to be ripped out tonight, Yimei,” Wang Jian mocked, rolling the cold gold ring between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a vicious, upward yank. “Should I stretch them until you scream yourself hoarse?”

“Ahhh! Yes, Master! Stretch my nipples! Make me your filthy, screaming toy!” Hua Yimei wailed, her incredibly thick, curvy hips writhing on the bedsheets as the sharp pain instantly converted into a rush of wet, dripping lust between her thighs.

“You love being degraded, don’t you? All three of you, nothing but high-class flesh meant to empty my balls,” Wang Jian laughed darkly, increasing the tempo of his thrusts into Wan’er.

“We do! We love it! Ah! Use us, Master!” the three mature, voluptuous milfs cried out in a disjointed, harmonious chorus of absolute submission.

The bedchamber was entirely filled with the wet, incredibly loud slapping sounds of his thrusts, the heavy, musk-scented air, and the desperate, pleading cries of the three women who were now utterly, hopelessly addicted to his dominating, physical abuse.

Suddenly, the symphony of degradation was sharply interrupted.

Resting on the ornate, polished dark-wood bedside table, a high-tier, specialized communication talisman suddenly flared to life. It emitted a pulsing, urgent, pale blue light that cut through the dim, crimson-tinted atmosphere of the room. The talisman vibrated slightly, emitting a low, continuous hum that signaled a maximum-priority, encrypted transmission.

Wang Jian did not stop his brutal thrusting. He continued to pound Shangguan Wan’er’s wet pussy into absolute oblivion, his hips snapping forward with the same devastating rhythm. However, he reached out his long right arm, easily closing the distance, and casually picked up the glowing jade slip from the table.

He injected a tiny, highly refined thread of his spiritual energy into the artifact, activating the message playback. He instantly, flawlessly recognized the specific, highly refined Ice Qi signature woven into the encryption. It belonged to his broken, embedded spy within the righteous path: Elder Bing Yun.

“Master,” Bing Yun’s voice echoed through the sultry, sweat-filled chamber.

Her voice did not carry the usual, hollow tone of a subservient spy reporting mundane logistics. It sounded incredibly frantic, hurried, desperate, and filled with genuine, profound terror.

“I bring highly urgent, devastating intelligence regarding the Ice Heart Palace,” Bing Yun’s recorded voice rushed out, her breath hitching audibly in the playback.

Wang Jian smirked darkly. He slowed his relentless thrusts slightly to listen more closely, adjusting his grip on Shangguan Wan’er’s hips. His left hand was still resting on Mu Lianhua’s chest, his fingers absentmindedly, roughly squeezing her massive, soft breast, causing the mature alchemist to whimper softly and squirm against his side, craving the intense pain he had been providing moments before.

“Interesting… To think I would receive such urgent, terrified news from her,” Wang Jian whispered to himself, a cold, calculating glint entering his abyssal eyes.

He knew the talisman could only speak out words that had been meticulously recorded and sent through the spatial currents; he couldn’t communicate to and fro with Bing Yun in real-time. His voice was completely calm, smooth, and utterly detached, presenting a jarring contrast to the intense, sweaty, highly aggressive sexual activity he was currently engaged in.

Bing Yun’s voice continued to play, the static of long-distance transmission barely masking her panic. “The Holy Nether Sea Organization has officially targeted the Ice Heart Palace. They have broken the regional treaties. They have dispatched a massive, overwhelming vanguard fleet, and they are preparing to breach our outer defensive arrays as I record this.”

‘They are expanding their conquest to the neutral, isolated righteous sects,’ Wang Jian thought, his brilliant tactical mind immediately, flawlessly analyzing the rapidly shifting borders of the regional war. He resumed his aggressive pounding of Wan’er’s incredibly wet core, his hips driving deep. ‘The Myriad Ocean Palace must be entirely pinned down on the southern fronts if the Holy Nether Sea Organization feels confident enough to stretch their supply lines to assault the Ice Heart Palace. The board is turning into a chaotic free-for-all.’

“The situation is incredibly dire, Master,” Bing Yun’s voice trembled through the talisman, carrying the heavy, inescapable weight of impending, absolute doom for her centuries-old sect. “The elders are panicking. The disciples are terrified.”

She paused in the recording, and when she spoke again, she revealed the terrifying, highly specific reason for the targeted, overwhelming assault on their relatively isolated territory. It was not merely a strategic maneuver for land or spirit stones.

“One of the absolute supreme leaders of the Holy Nether Sea Organization has developed a profound, obsessive, and deeply personal interest in our sect,” Bing Yun gasped out, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. “It is Patriarch Nine-Nether Blood-Fiend.”

Wang Jian’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, the casual amusement fading into a sharp, predatory focus.

He knew of Patriarch Nine-Nether Blood-Fiend. He was one of the two legendary, highly elusive Late-Stage Nascent Soul Realm old ancestors who commanded the entire, massive Holy Nether Sea Organization. The Patriarch was a terrifying, ancient demonic cultivator renowned across the region for his highly destructive, soul-corroding blood-sea arts. He was a monster who bathed in the life force of thousands to maintain his vitality, but he was equally infamous for his boundless, depraved, and entirely insatiable lust. He collected beautiful female cultivators like trophies, draining them of their Yin essence until nothing but withered husks remained.

“The Patriarch does not merely want our profound-ice resources or our territory, Master,” Bing Yun continued, her voice cracking with profound, unadulterated despair. “He explicitly, specifically wants to take our Palace Mistress as his personal, subjugated concubine and primary cultivation cauldron.”

Wang Jian’s thrusts slowed to a halt. Shangguan Wan’er whined softly in disappointment at the sudden loss of friction, wriggling her plump ass back against his groin, but Wang Jian ignored her, his full attention captured by the talisman.

Bing Yun explained the stakes with frantic detail. The Palace Mistress of the Ice Heart Palace, Su Binglan, was an incredibly powerful, peerless genius at the Early-Stage of the Nascent Soul Realm. She was a woman widely considered to represent the absolute, untouchable pinnacle of ice element and sword techniques in the entire Myriad Reefs Sea Region. She was a legend, a woman of unblemished purity and terrifying martial prowess.

“Patriarch Nine-Nether Blood-Fiend desires her pristine, incredibly potent Yin essence to balance the immense, self-destructive backlash of his highly corrosive, demonic blood arts,” Bing Yun wept through the transmission, the sound of distant explosions briefly audible in the background of the recording. “He has demanded her complete, unconditional surrender, or he will personally slaughter every single disciple within our walls and melt the glaciers to the bedrock.”

Wang Jian remained perfectly still. The three mature, large-breasted beauties surrounding him sensed the sudden, drastic shift in his aura. The oppressive, lustful heat in the room vanished, replaced by a freezing, murderous intent that made their very fair skin break out in goosebumps.

“We are currently holding them back,” Bing Yun’s voice hurried on. “But we are only resisting because of our ancient, foundational array formations and the Grand Yin Ice Flame left behind by the first ancestor of our sect. The flame is incredibly powerful, but it can only defend the core pavilion; it cannot possibly defeat a Late-Stage Nascent Soul enemy or his subordinates. It is only a matter of time before our reserves are depleted and the barriers shatter.”

“If this continues, Master,” Bing Yun pleaded. She did not appeal to his mercy or his non-existent sense of righteousness. Having been thoroughly broken and molded by him, she knew exactly how to manipulate her master’s boundless, depraved lust and his overwhelming, tyrannical possessiveness. “Palace Mistress Su Binglan will be taken by that ancient, rotting monster. He will drain her, and you… you will not be able to claim her pristine body for your own collection. She will be ruined by another man.”

The very thought of another man—even a legendary, Late-Stage Nascent Soul overlord—claiming a top-tier, peerless beauty that Wang Jian considered destined for his own expanding harem filled him with a cold, absolute, and profoundly murderous fury. In his mind, every beautiful, powerful woman in the region was merely waiting to be conquered by him.

“No one touches what belongs to me,” Wang Jian growled darkly. His voice was a terrifying, abyssal rumble that vibrated the very foundations of the bedchamber.

In his sudden surge of possessive rage, his grip tightened bruisingly on Hua Yimei’s massive, soft breast. His large fingers clamped down with unyielding force, digging deeply into her abundant flesh.

“AGHHHH!” Hua Yimei gasped loudly, a mixture of genuine, sharp pain and intense, overwhelming arousal spiking through her body. “Master! Ahh!”

Bing Yun, perfectly executing her desperate plea, added a final, highly convincing piece of evidence to her urgent transmission to ensure he took the bait.

“I have attached a highly detailed, spiritual portrait of the Palace Mistress, Master,” Bing Yun concluded, her transmission ending with a soft, subservient sob. “I beg you, please intervene. Do not let that monster defile her before you can break her yourself.”

The jade slip flared brightly once more. The pale blue light condensed, projecting a highly detailed, incredibly lifelike, three-dimensional spiritual image directly into the center of the lavish, dimly lit bedchamber, hovering just above the edge of the silk-draped bed.

Wang Jian stared at the projection, his abyssal eyes locking onto the image of the woman who was about to become the epicenter of a massive, regional war.

The spiritual portrait depicted a woman of absolutely breathtaking, peerless, and devastatingly cold beauty. She was captured standing proudly amidst a swirling, localized blizzard of profound Ice Qi, her posture rigid with defiant authority.

Su Binglan possessed long, flowing hair the exact color of fresh, untouched snow, cascading down her back like a frozen waterfall. Her eyes were a piercing, incredibly sharp sapphire blue that radiated an aura of absolute, untouchable, and freezing arrogance. She looked like a goddess carved from glacial ice, unyielding and eternally pure.

However, despite her cold, proud expression and the severe nature of her profound ice cultivation, her physical form was incredibly, astonishingly voluptuous. She completely defied the ascetic, slender stereotypes of ice cultivators.

She wore elegant, flowing white robes adorned with subtle, silver-thread embroidery depicting blooming snow-lotuses. The robes were cinched incredibly tightly at her thin, wasp-like waist by a wide, icy-blue sash, which immediately flared out to highlight the exceptionally curvy, wide flare of her generous buttocks and thick thighs.

But it was her chest that completely, instantly captivated Wang Jian’s dark gaze. Su Binglan possessed proud, incredibly massive, heavy breasts that strained visibly and aggressively against the pristine white fabric of her robes. The sheer, overwhelming size and abundant softness of her assets were undeniably obvious even through the layers of silk, easily matching, if not surpassing, the staggering proportions of Mu Lianhua and Hua Yimei.

Upon seeing her incredibly sexy, flawlessly proportioned body combined with her haughty, untouchable expression, Wang Jian’s reaction was instantaneous.

He was instantly, painfully hard. His massive, dark dick throbbed violently within Shangguan Wan’er’s tight pussy, expanding with renewed, unbridled, and aggressively territorial lust.

‘I must have her,’ Wang Jian thought, his dark, starlit eyes devouring the glowing blue projection. His possessive, demonic nature was entirely, irrevocably inflamed by the sight of the Ice Fairy. ‘I want to shatter that freezing, arrogant facade. I want to strip away those pristine white robes and pound that incredibly sexy, voluptuous body into the dirt until she weeps and begs to be my filthy, obedient slut.’

He made his decision instantly. The tactical risks of exposing himself to a Late-Stage Nascent Soul expert were immense, but the prize was simply too magnificent to ignore. He would not allow Patriarch Nine-Nether Blood-Fiend to claim a prize of such staggering, peerless quality. He would intervene in this massive, chaotic battle, shatter the demonic vanguard, and steal the ultimate prize right from under the overlord’s rotting nose.

Wang Jian pulled his massive dick out of Shangguan Wan’er with a loud, wet schlick, completely ignoring her pathetic, high-pitched whine of sudden emptiness. He slid off the bed, standing naked before the glowing projection.

He picked up the communication talisman, injecting his dark, heavily commanding Stellar Qi into the jade matrix to record his absolute response.

“Elder Bing Yun,” Wang Jian spoke, his voice a low, terrifying rumble of absolute authority and boundless, predatory intent. He did not speak of righteousness or rescue; he spoke only of conquest. “Prepare the palace for my arrival. Ensure the Grand Yin Ice Flame holds until I get there. I am coming to personally save your sect from the Blood-Fiend, and when the dust settles, I will subjugate every single one of you. The Palace Mistress belongs to me.”

He sent the transmission through the spatial currents. He knew perfectly well that his broken, devoted slut deep within the Ice Heart Palace would receive the message with twisted, profound happiness. She would be eager to serve her demonic master once more, ready to pave the way for her own sect’s ultimate downfall.

Wang Jian immediately turned away from the table, his lust temporarily redirected entirely into a burning, aggressive desire for brutal combat and absolute conquest.

He grabbed his pristine white scholarly robes from a nearby chair and began to dress rapidly, his movements sharp and precise. He left his three beautiful, panting sluts sprawled across the snow-fox furs, thoroughly unsatisfied, dripping with his pre-cum, and whining softly for his return.

“Master, please… you cannot leave us like this,” Mu Lianhua whimpered, her massive breasts heaving as she crawled toward the edge of the bed, her eyes hazy with unfulfilled desire.

“Control your lust, Lianhua. Play with each other until I return,” Wang Jian ordered coldly, fastening his silver sash. He didn’t spare them a second glance.

He walked out of the bedchamber, pulling out a specialized jade communication slip linked directly to his elite vanguard.

“Chen Ying,” Wang Jian’s voice echoed through the sect’s internal network. “Mobilize the guard. Prepare the sect’s fastest, most heavily warded, and recently upgraded spirit boat. Load the primary offensive arrays with high-grade spirit stones. We are embarking on a prolonged, highly dangerous journey.”

“Understood, Master. What is our destination?” Chen Ying’s cold, professional voice replied instantly.

“The Ice Heart Palace,” Wang Jian stated.

The logistical challenge was significant. The Ice Heart Palace was located significantly far away from their current stronghold, positioned somewhat precariously in the treacherous, storm-ravaged waters forming the border between the Inner Sea Region and the Outer Sea Region. It was a journey that would take considerable time, even with their newly acquired, high-speed vessels.

A few days later, after thoroughly finalizing the sect’s subterranean defenses, issuing strict orders to Yue Lingshan regarding the perimeter arrays, and ensuring the absolute lockdown of the island, Wang Jian stood at the prow of his massive, Abyssal Star-Iron fortified flying ship.

The sky above was overcast, a reflection of the brewing regional war. The massive vessel hovered above the churning ocean, its defensive runes glowing with a faint, lethal light.

Wang Jian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his immaculate white robes billowing in the harsh sea wind. His dark, starlit eyes were fixed intensely on the distant horizon. He was embarking on a two-month journey across treacherous, war-torn seas to clash directly with a superpower, intending to shatter a demonic vanguard and claim the ultimate, massive-breasted Ice Fairy for his own depraved collection.