Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

The stench of coppery blood and burning sulfur had barely settled over the devastated outer courtyards before the bedrock of the entire mountain basin began to tremble with rhythmic, seismic violence.

The desperate slaughter of the retreating Imperial Academy disciples was abruptly halted by an unbearable wave of rising heat that singed the eyebrows of every cultivator on the field.

Out from the boiling mist and rolling volcanic ash, a gargantuan shadow tore through the horizon, its footsteps crushing ancient granite ridges into molten gravel.

The titan stood tall, towering everything on sight, like an apocalyptic monolith of primeval basalt and churning magma.

Rivers of pure liquid flame coursed through the deep crevices along its chest and arms, dripping down onto the earth below and sizzling as they turned the shattered mountain soil into bubbling lakes of slag.

Upon the colossal slab of the creature’s broad, molten right shoulder stood Huo Yue.

Her voluminous, fiery crimson hair cascaded down her back like burning embers, whipping wildly in the scalding gale.

Draped in tight crimson silks that accentuated her tall, voluptuous frame, her crimson eyes burned with haughty, untamed dominance as she looked down upon the sea of defenders with a cruel, smirking gaze.

The players stared in shock, but then quickly recovered as the glowing neon tags above their heads flickered erratically, their user interfaces adjusted to the colossal entity entering their field of view.

To ordinary cultivators, such a beast was a harbinger of world-ending calamity. But to an army of gamers who had respawned dozens of times and viewed reality through health bars and drop tables, the towering abomination merely triggered the instincts of an ambitious raid party.

”Don’t be afraid! No matter how big that thing is, there’s only one!” a heavy-armored player shouted, slamming his war hammer against his iron buckler to rally the surrounding squads.

”That’s right!”

”That’s just a walking massive loot!” another player laughed hysterically, waving a spiked greatsword. ”Look at the surface area on that hitbox! Drop your armor-shred debuffs and focus the knees! The crafting materials from that core are going to fund our guild for an entire expansion!”

The players cheered, their initial hesitation melting away into pure, greedy bloodlust as they prepared to swarm the titan’s colossal legs.

But before they can cheer for long, the clouds above the mountain basin ignited into a sea of blinding, incandescent solar fire.

Tearing through the burning atmosphere came an endless legion of bronze-skinned, muscular warriors, descending like falling stars upon discs of concentrated solar radiance.

They were towering giants of pure martial vigor, their bare chests etched with ancient, glowing solar brands, their hands wielding heavy spears, spiked clubs, and curved blades forged from solar-forged brass.

The sheer, physical heat radiating from their collective descent evaporated the blood on the ground, burning away the foul stench of death and replacing it with the suffocating, unyielding majesty of a thousand blazing suns.

”They are...”

The Sword Saint stared at the newly arrival in shock, his grip on his plain wooden sword tightening until his aged knuckles turned pale beneath his gray hemp sleeve.

”The Sun Tribe? Why are they here?!”

The legendary pillar of orthodox sword dao, who had remained calm and unshakeable even when faced with the slaughter of an entire province, felt an icy tremor of disbelief pierce his heart.

The reason he knew of them was because almost a thousand years ago, when he was merely a rash, sword-obsessed prodigy sailing the uncharted boiling seas of the far south, he had penetrated through perpetual storms of blinding fire and discovered a hidden archipelago untainted by the cruel cultivation world.

There, he had witnessed the primeval warfare between the water cultivators and the children of the sun—a race of martial warriors whose bloodlines carried the unrefined, terrifying essence of the primordial solar god.

He had barely survived that encounter, fleeing the burning isles with his sword core cracked and his pride shattered.

”You speak as if you owned this realm, boy.”

A voice suddenly echoed. It was neither loud nor strained, yet it carried an ancient, suffocating density that flattened the air currents for hundreds of miles.

Just then, Augusta drifted down from the upper firmament, bathed in a shimmering halo of liquid gold.

Her majestic, statuesque frame radiated the majesty of a monarch who had ruled over millions of warriors for uncounted epochs.

Her long, fiery orange hair undulated like living tongues of solar flame, framing a face of sculpted bronze perfection.

Her eyes, burning with the ancient, unyielding brilliance of midday suns, cast an indifferent glance over the battlefield before locking directly onto the trembling Sword Saint.

”Augusta!?”

Sword Saint’s eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the suppressed memories of his greatest humiliation rushed back to the surface.

”You... You’re still alive!?”

The Wind Emperor of the Divine Wind Palace, the Xuan Yuan Saint of the Xuan Heavenly Sect, and the Nine Lives Demon King of the Murong Clan all snapped their heads toward him, their eyes wide with profound bewilderment.

”Sword Saint, you know her?” the Nine Lives Demon King growled, his feral slit-pupils contracting as he sensed the monstrous, latent physical power dormant within the orange-haired woman’s bronze flesh.

Sword Saint nodded, his voice low, gravelly, and laced with bitter solemnity.

”Back then, I fought her and lost terribly. And when I broke through to peak Nirvana, I wanted to challenge her once more, but I can no longer find the island where they reside. Don’t underestimate her, almost a thousand years ago, she was already half-step into the Saint Realm.”

He had spent decades searching the southern seas, scouring every vortex and volcanic trench, but the mythical burning archipelago had seemingly vanished from the face of the world, swallowed by ancient spatial wards.

”You wandered into by accident. You are not supposed to be there,” said Augusta.

Her response was cold and dismissive. To an chieftan whose lineage guarded primeval altars, a wandering swordsman from the outside world was nothing more than a stray dog that had briefly slipped through a tear in the fence.

Sword Saint shook his head, forcing the chill from his soul as he raised his wooden blade, his aura flaring with stubborn, late-stage Nirvana majesty.

”No matter. Even if you brought the entirety of the Sun Tribe, you still won’t be enough to beat us.”

His voice carried the desperate resolve of the defenders.

Behind him stood thousands of Nirvana Rebirth masters, the unified remnants of the righteous sects, and an undying army of players who could respawn endlessly from the stone courtyards.

In a prolonged battle of attrition, no solitary tribe—regardless of how ancient or divine—could outlast a faction that defied the concept of death.

But, at that very moment....

SKREEEEEEECH!

A deafening, primal shriek violently tore through the high clouds from the southwest!

The sound was followed immediately by the overlapping, thunderous screeches of tens of thousands of avian apex predators, a sonic tempest so intense that it shattered several buildings of the sect.

Then, they saw the southern sky was completely blotted out by a colossal, squalling storm of feathers, talons, and storm-qi.

Giant thunder eagles with wingspans of forty yards, shadow-feathered ravens breathing violet miasma, and ancient four-winged blood condors surged through the air like a localized hurricane.

Leading this monstrous aerial armada was a primeval storm gryphon whose iron-plated feathers crackled with arcs of azure lightning, its predatory eyes locked upon the sect below.

The gryphon stopped at the sky of the sect, and riding on it, a beautiful woman.

She knelt casually upon the beast’s broad, feathered neck, one shapely, bare leg draped over the creature’s collar, her posture dripping with lazy, untamed elegance.

Her long, silken hair fluttered in the gale, shimmering with deep violet highlights beneath the pale sun.

Perched atop her head, two black, velvet-furred feline ears twitched with predatory precision, while a long, sleek tail swayed behind her silk-wrapped waist.

Her exotic purple eyes glowed with amused, sadistic delight as she lazily inspected the battered defenders below.

It was Zhu Ziyan.

”Sister Yue, it seems you arrived before me.” Ziyan smiled.

Huo Yue chuckled, ”Of course. As your leader, I must always lead first.”

Before everyone recovered from the shock of seeing tens of thousands of avian demonic beasts, the clouds in the western horizon was instantly cut open by sharp sword intent.

Then, three hundred silent, lethal swordsmen dressed in weathered gray robes descended in perfect, triangular flight formation, each standing barefoot upon slender, iron blades.

Leading the group was Shen Xinye.

Her simple azure robes fluttered against the wind, her hand resting firmly upon the pommel of her sheathed blade.

Her silver eyes were as cold and still as an ancient, frozen lake, carrying the heritage of Lord Ascalon, ready to cut down the firmament at a moment’s notice.

”It seems we’ve arrived a bit too late. Many of our fellow students have already perished.” Shen Xinye sighed.

Just then, down in the eastern courtyard where the players were preparing to reinforce the battlements, a thick, emerald-green fog suddenly bubbled up from the drainage grates and cracked flagstones.

It had no scent, carried no spiritual warmth, and possessed no visible weight.

Yet, the moment the mist brushed against the players’ armor, the metal turned to rotten slag.

Those who took a single, involuntary breath of the vapor instantly clutched their throats, their eyes bulging until the blood vessels burst.

”Poison!”

”Shit! Give me some potions!”

”Fuck, this hurts so much! I should’ve lowered pain level!”

Screams of terror erupted as dozens of high-level players collapsed to the ground, their bodies violently convulsing, vomiting liquefied internal organs and frothing black bile, their health bars plummeting to zero in less than two seconds!

Even as their avatars disintegrated to initiate the resurrection sequence, the lingering green miasma clung to their fading data-threads, corroding their respawn time!

Then, from the mist, Shen Ying appeared.

She stepped out of the toxic emerald cloud with slow, languid steps, her iron-studded combat boots clicking softly against the liquefied stone.

Her hair hung in messy waves, and her robes were stained with the fresh residues of her gruesome alchemical experiments.

She held a segmented whip-blade loosely in her pale fingers, a crazed, ecstatic look shone in her eyes as she watched the players writhe and dissolve in her experimental neurotoxins.

”...hmm, it seems I need to increase its potency more. They are actually still able to talk.”

Just then, a soft, celestial chord rippled through the turbulent atmosphere.

It was played on an ancient wooden zither, carrying the pure, hypnotic beauty of falling snow and drifting clouds.

The melody bypassed physical hearing entirely, vibrating directly within the souls of every cultivator in the valley.

The raging warriors of the righteous sects, the shouting elders, and the charging players suddenly froze mid-stride, their expressions relaxing into blissful, empty smiles as their conscious minds were gently dragged into an ethereal, beautiful illusion of absolute peace.

Then, the beat changed.

TWANG!

The gentle, flowing melody suddenly twisted into a sharp, dissonant funeral march!

The sound wave transformed into an omnidirectional, vibrating executioner’s blade that violently resonated with the spiritual marrow of the listeners!

Thousands of spellbound cultivators and players simultaneously arched their backs, coughing up massive fountains of dark, visceral blood as their internal organs were sheared apart from the inside out by the harmonic vibrations!

”Such is the price, for those who treat this music lightly.” Luo Mingye slowly walked out.

She was draped in flowing, pale-lavender robes that drifted around her ankles like water, her slender fingertips rested lightly against the silk strings of her instrument, her melancholic, delicate face completely undisturbed by the sea of dying men collapsing around her steps, playing the song of their demise with divine, effortless mastery.

At that very moment, a second sun seemed to blossom in the center of the firmament!

Then, Qian Yunxi descended like a war goddess of the primordial heavens, six colossal wings of pure, condensed auric light spanning hundreds of meters behind her back, casting a divine radiance that burned away the shadows and scorched the earth.

In her hand rested an unsheathed divine blade that hummed with righteous execution, her peerless face carved with holy, pitiless wrath.

”...How sinful. I shall judge all of you for killing my fellow students!”

But then....

KABOOOOOM!

The very foundation of the sect fractured as the hundred-meter demon titan slammed into the earth!

A colossal shockwave of pulverized stone and violet fiendish fire swept across the courtyards, leveling entire pavilions into splinters!

The monster threw his gargantuan skull back and roared, shaking the teeth in the defenders’ jaws.

Standing arrogantly atop his basalt shoulder plate, Gu Xunyi smoothed her dark violet robes while Ning Xueli casually toyed with her bone-white hairpin, her icy blue eyes dancing with cruel amusement.

”We’re not late for the party are we?” Xueli chuckled, her voice carried across the ruins like a teasing whisper soaked in venom.

But before anyone can answer her...

Tick.

Tack.

Tick.

Tack.

A sound of a clock ticking resounded throughout the world.

Then, the fundamental laws of reality suddenly fractured.

The surging flames of the Sun Tribe froze mid-flicker; the falling dust hung suspended in the air; the flowing blood stopped mid-drop.

The entire visual spectrum was stripped of its color, turning into a dead, monochrome canvas as the grinding gears of space-time were forcibly arrested.

Walking side by side out of the suspended temporal currents came Xu Xiansu, holding her rotating bronze astrological mirror, and Xia Mengyao, whose sheathed sword hummed with an intent so great that even frozen time seemed to bleed around its edge.

The Four Sacred Masters stood paralyzed, their minds breaking under the sheer, insurmountable density of the monsters descending upon their mountain.

Each arrival was a peerless prodigy wielding ancient heritages, primordial physiques, and divine artifacts that surpassed the comprehension of this lower world.

”It seems you girl’s are here.”

A voice echoed.

The sound was calm, cultured, and carried the effortless grace of an imperial princess overseeing an afternoon banquet.

Then, stepping out from a silent ripple in the fabric of the void, Shen Xun’er materialized in the open air, her hands folded demurely within the flowing sleeves of her azure maid gown.

Her porcelain face was serene, completely unbothered by the apocalyptic gathering of titans, armies, and slaughter around her.

Her cold eyes swept over the trembling, blood-stained faces of the Four Sacred Masters and the pale, horrified players clinging to their weapons.

”Once the others arrive, we can start the slaughter.”

• ~ ~ •

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