Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Shen Haoran stared at the white-haired man who had boldly stepped between him and his target, his golden eyes narrowing into razor-sharp, freezing slits.

A profound, icy annoyance radiated from his very posture, causing the air around him to crackle with latent, violent electricity.

The third.

This was officially the third time his plans had been disrupted by an outside force today.

It was starting to become a pattern, a persistent cosmic nuisance whenever he attempted to lay his hands on any of these irritating, destiny-blessed protagonists.

First, there was Chu Yan, whose erratic behavior had drawn unnecessary attention, and whom he wanted to teach a lesson.

But he was stopped by an elder before he could even attack.

Then, there was that seemingly mundane sweeper, Lin Che, who had miraculously triggered the sudden intervention of the Academy Enforcement Team.

And now, just as he was about to cleanly erase this screaming lunatic from existence, this plain-robed elder had just appeared out of nowhere to stop his command.

It was truly starting to get on his nerves.

With Chu Yan, Haoran hadn’t actually been planning on executing him just yet.

Based on his meticulous observations and how that boy act so familiar towards Qian Yunxi like they knew each other, that particular young master was either a regressor who had lived through a future timeline, or a transmigrator who had somehow read a novel text and possessed an intimate knowledge of the hidden plots of this world.

Whatever he is, keeping him alive and monitoring his movements yielded far more long-term strategic benefits than simply painting the cobblestones with his blood.

That sweeper, Lin Che, was a different story.

Based on how the boy had immediately tried to flee the exact second Haoran’s supreme ocular technique scanned his body, he had clearly felt an immediate, existential threat to his life.

Since he had approached Ziyan in the first place, it meant he initially had no idea that they were dangerous, only realizing the extreme disparity in power afterward.

That meant he was actively informed of their threat after he made physical contact with them.

Such a rapid, real-time calculation meant Lin Che either carried a remnant soul of an ancient grandpa inside a hidden ring, a sentient spirit of an Imperial Artifact whispering in his mind, or a bounded celestial system.

Either way, an anomaly like that possessed immense research value, so Haoran didn’t mind keeping him on a long leash for now.

But this screaming wretch, Tai Yuhao?

According to Ziyan’s words, he was nothing more than a ghost from a desolate, destroyed corner of the Eastern Region who had somehow bypassed the laws of death to possess the physical vessel of the Yun Clan’s young master.

In other words, he was a completely useless variable.

He possessed absolutely no unique information, no strategic worth, and no future value.

And since he had no worth to the grand scheme of things and yet dared to attack him and Ziyan, then he was nothing more than an overgrown weed.

The only logical course of action was to harvest his seven-colored protagonist luck, refine it into pure destiny for the Shen Clan, and discard the empty husk.

And yet...some old guy actually showed himself and stopped him...

”Elder! Elder! Please, I beg of you, save me! Save my life!” Tai Yuhao shrieked hysterically, entirely abandoning whatever remained of his noble pride as Yun Chi and as the former prince from Eastern Region.

He dragged his bleeding, battered body across the cracked cobblestones, leaving a grotesque trail of crimson smears behind him as he desperately clawed toward the hem of Elder Mu’s plain white robes.

”That man... that man is a demon! A literal demon from the deep abyss! He controlled my own tamed spirit beast, and he’s trying to murder a student in broad daylight!”

Seeing such a thoroughly pathetic, undignified sight, Zhu Ziyan couldn’t help but slowly shake her head, her expression one of profound, cold pity.

It seemed that despite surviving the apocalypse of his homeland, despite traveling across the vast continent and taking over a wealthy new body in the Central Region, Tai Yuhao had never truly changed.

When faced with absolute, crushing power that his petty schemes couldn’t overcome, he would always instantly regress into the exact same cowardly, sniveling child who couldn’t protect anything.

Elder Mu frowned deeply, his gaze shifting from the pathetic, bleeding youth at his feet to the towering, immaculate figure of the golden-haired young master standing before the throne.

Truthfully, the ancient scholar didn’t fully understand why, but the exact moment Haoran had raised his hand to command the dragon, an overwhelming, irresistible cosmic urge had violently flared within his soul, forcing him to step forward and stop the incident.

Usually, in accordance with his reclusive, scholarly nature, he wouldn’t even dream of getting involved in the petty, violent disputes of the student populace.

But this specific time felt entirely different.

It was an inexplicable, burning instinct that defied his logic—almost as if the very heavens themselves were screaming in his ear to protect the weeping boy on the floor.

He couldn’t quite explain the reasoning behind it.

However, since his feet had already crossed the line, and since his spiritual pressure had already suppressed the dragon, his pride as a 9th Stage Earthly Saint dictated that he should just carry the matter through to its natural conclusion.

”Young man,” Elder Mu spoke, his voice carrying the deep, resonant vibration of a mountain. ”If you truly desire to settle your personal vendettas and blood disputes, there are appropriate times, sanctioned dueling arenas, and legal avenues provided by the Imperial Academy for such bloody endeavors.”

”Yes, there are,” Haoran replied, his voice smooth as silk as he took a single, deliberate step forward, the ground beneath his boots instantly turning to pristine gold. ”And that appropriate time and place happens to be right here, right now. I have already made the absolute decision to kill that pathetic creature today. And quite frankly, old man, even if you were a primordial god descending from the higher realms, you would still have to obediently step aside and watch him die.”

Elder Mu’s white brows knitted closely together, a flash of genuine anger rippling through his calm demeanor. ”Young man, unbridled arrogance is merely a false virtue adopted by the weak. It is nothing more than a tragic, loud mechanism used to hide away their deep-seated insecurities from the world.”

Haoran stared at him for a moment and let out a sharp, melodious laugh that carried absolutely zero warmth. ”You dare to stand before me, using your meager years to lecture me about the concepts of arrogance?”

With a fluid, breathtakingly fast motion, he reached his hand toward the void, and a rift of pure, absolute nothingness tore open.

From the dark abyss, he slowly pulled out his signature weapon: the Black Imperial Sword, Azathoth.

The blade was like a sliver of concentrated cosmic night, its edge completely swallowing the surrounding sunlight.

”Remember this, old man. Arrogance is not a shield for the weak or insecure,” Haoran whispered, his voice echoing with an ancient, terrifying weight as he raised the dark blade. ”True arrogance is a divine privilege born from absolute, unyielding sovereignty. It is a virtue that belongs solely to the strong—those who possess the absolute power to rewrite reality according to their whims, while the weak can only call it a sin because they lack the strength to bear its weight.”

Before Elder Mu could even process the profound heresy of those words, Haoran’s spiritual aura flared out with the force of a collapsing star.

”Genesis Protocol: The Law Beyond Heaven,” Haoran declared, his voice transforming into a multi-layered, terrifying chorus that bypassed the physical ears of those present, vibrating directly within their souls.

At that exact second, the vibrant, bustling streets of Academy City were completely obliterated from their vision.

A blinding, apocalyptic wave of golden flames erupted from the void, swallowing the plaza, the buildings, and the sky.

The fabric of space began to violently twist, warp, and fold inward like burning parchment, until the very concepts of distance, time, and earthly reality seemed to entirely lose their meaning.

Elder Mu instinctively raised his wide, white sleeves to shield his eyes from the blinding, divine radiance.

When the suffocating pressure finally stabilized and he slowly lowered his arms to reveal his surroundings, a wave of profound, absolute shock washed over his seasoned countenance.

The bustling metropolis was entirely gone.

Instead, he found himself standing in a completely silent, infinitely vast, and utterly barren world.

The sky above was not blue, but a swirling, churning sea of burning, liquid gold.

The ground beneath his boots was cold, flat, and composed entirely of a smooth, completely alien dark metal that thrummed with a rhythmic, mechanical pulse.

Far above them, floating majestically amidst the golden clouds, stood a monolithic, gargantuan obsidian fortress.

It radiated a suffocating, ancient imperial majesty that felt older than the continent itself.

”This... a localized domain?!” Elder Mu exclaimed, his voice trembling slightly as his spiritual senses stretched outward, only to find absolutely no boundary to the space. ”No... this is something far more advanced, far more terrifying than a standard Supreme Domain. It is an independent, self-sustaining world...”

Haoran smirked, ”Indeed, it is.”

Elder Mu furrowed his brows, looking incredibly solemn. ”I have heard whispers and rumors among the other Master Teachers about a monstrous new freshman who possessed the capability to create an entirely separate dimension... Are you perhaps... the young master of the Divine City, Shen Haoran?”

Haoran remained perfectly silent, standing like an unmoving god of war at the center of the metallic plain, his black sword resting loosely at his side.

At this precise moment, through the absolute authority of the Genesis Protocol, only three entities had been drawn into this hidden realm: himself, the trembling Elder Mu, and the bleeding, terrified Tai Yuhao.

Everyone else, including Ziyan, had been safely left behind in the outer reality.

Of course, Qing’er was still inside the Hanging Gardens above, still stabilizing her realm.

Haoran slowly raised his golden eyes, looking down at the 9th Stage Earthly Saint with an expression of supreme, absolute dominance.

”Welcome to my world, Elder,” Haoran spoke calmly, the entire dimension vibrating in perfect synchronization with his breath. ”Within the boundaries of this sovereign realm, my word is the ultimate cosmic decree. Therefore, I declare that as the absolute King of this world... any cultivation base that dares to exist higher than mine is strictly forbidden.”

*Boom!*

The moment the decree left his lips, the fundamental laws of the pocket universe shifted violently.

A invisible, celestial weight slammed directly into Elder Mu’s meridians, forcefully compressing his vast, saint-level sea of qi and violently grinding his cultivation metrics down to match Haoran’s exact level.

”This...!? How is this possible!?” Elder Mu stared at his own hands in shock, ”My strength... actually regressed!?”

Haoran took a step forward, ”Do you believe in gods, Elder?”

Elder Mu took a step back, looking incredibly wary, but remained silent.

Haoran smiled at that, ”It’s fine, you don’t have to answer for now....”

He pointed his sword at him, his aura surging out like a hurricane.

”... because I will take my time and teach you, what god you should believe in.”