Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Flowers

”Sister Shen, huh?”

Huo Yue watched the heavy doors of the throne room creak shut behind Ziyan’s retreating figure.

The cat-girl’s footsteps were still light, but they no longer held that frantic, uneven cadence of a person fleeing from her own shadow.

Huo Yue stood alone for a moment in the settling dust of the hall, scratching the back of her head with a wry, self-deprecating smile.

’I forgot I haven’t even told her my real name yet,’ she realized.

The name ”Shen Huo” was simply an alias she had used during her travels, a combination of her own last name ’Huo’ and Haoran’s last name ’Shen’.

She thought for a moment, her finger tapping against her chin, then she simply shrugged the thought away.

There would be plenty of opportunities for introductions once the girl had actually washed the dried salt of tears from her face.

Then, with a flick of her robes, Huo Yue turned and left the room, her presence flickering like a dying ember before she vanished into the corridors.

She began to expand her senses, letting her consciousness ripple outward through the cooling sandstone of the palace and search for his man.

It didn’t take long before she found him, after all his presence was like a pillar of absolute zero in the middle of the desert’s residual heat—impossible to miss, yet difficult to approach.

She followed the traces of his Qi and found him on a high, secluded balcony, his silhouette framed by the darkening orange sky as he observed the sprawling expanse of the Lamia Kingdom.

Below them, the winding streets of the kingdom began to twinkle as lamplighters touched torches to oil basins, and the orange glow of the light spreading like a slow-moving wildfire against the encroaching blue of twilight.

Huo Yue walked toward him, her footsteps intentionally heavy to announce her arrival and just stopped a few paces behind him, her brow furrowed in a deep, disapproving line.

”You were too harsh on her,” she said, her voice echoing slightly against the balcony’s stone balustrade.

Haoran remained silent at first. He didn’t turn around, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was dipping below the dunes, bleeding a deep, bruised purple into the sky.

”I don’t think so,” Haoran said finally, his voice devoid of any defensive edge. ”She’s a cultivator. If something as simple as choosing her own life over others made her crumble that way, then she would be better off giving up on this path entirely. It would be a mercy.”

He turned slightly, his profile sharp and unforgiving in the twilight. ”The world of Cultivation is incredibly cruel, Yue’er. It isn’t a place for the faint of heart to wander. It is a meat grinder fueled by ambition and greased with the blood of the sentimental.”

He gestured vaguely toward the darkening sands. ”Betrayal, fathers slaughtering sons for a breakthrough, sons poisoning fathers for an inheritance, the depravities of demonic cultivators who weave tapestries out of human skin... throughout the recorded history of the Heavens, there has never been a single person who survived and ascended while possessing such a fragile heart. So, to coddle her would be to hand her a death sentence.”

Huo Yue sighed, the sound escaping her like a tired weight as she walked to the edge of the balcony to stand beside him.

Having endured three long years of bitter humiliation, watching her own family turn their backs on her after she lost her talent, and weathering the verbal abuse of those who once bowed to her, she knew his words were an undeniable truth.

The world didn’t care if you were ”good” or ”bad”, it only cared if you were powerful enough.

”Still...” she countered softly, looking down at the flickering torches below. ”You should’ve been gentle with her. She was on the edge of a mental collapse and if I wasn’t there to comfort her, who knows what crooked thoughts would have filled her mind? She might have taken your logic and turned it into a reason to become a monster herself.”

”But you were there.” Haoran’s voice softened, just a fraction.

He turned fully toward her, revealing a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he reached out, his movements fluid and possessive, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into the cool circle of his embrace.

Huo Yue felt the familiar warmth of his Qi, something she had missed in the past two years as she let out another sigh, this one less burdened. ”Yes, yes, whatever you say. So you said those words because you knew I would come and comfort her, righ?”

Haoran didn’t answer that directly, instead resting his chin lightly atop her head as they both looked out over the kingdom.

”...So,” he murmured, ”how were the past two years for you, truly? Have you encountered any danger?”

Huo Yue shrugged within his grip, her tone turning casual yet proud.

”Nothing much. But I didn’t let the past two years go to waste, you know. I’ve already become a Rank 4 Alchemist, and also got my Rank 2 Artificer Licence, not to mention I reached the Peak of the Core Formation Realm. But,” she added with a mock-pout, ”I’ve already used up the hoard of resources you gave me. I’m practically a beggar now.”

Of course, those resources she stole doesn’t count!

”It doesn’t matter,” Haoran said, his voice vibrating against her. ”The one thing I do not lack is cultivation resources. I will bury you in Spirit Stones and Heavenly Herbs if that is what it takes to see you reach the Nascent Soul stage by next spring.”

Huo Yue smiled, turning in his arms to look up at him as the moonlight was beginning to catch the golden embroidery of his robes. ”And what about you? How were your past two years? I doubt you were just sitting in meditation the whole time.”

”Oh, nothing much,” Haoran replied, his eyes dancing with a cold, playful light. ”I found an interesting girl during my travels, and I’ve decided I want to take her back to the Central Region with me.”

Huo Yue’s nose wrinkled instantly, her eyes narrowing as she poked him hard in the chest. ”You spent the past two years with her? Alone? Then you’ve probably already devoured her whole, you lecherous snake!”

Haoran didn’t deny it and simply chuckled. There was really no need to deny it,

”That’s not fair!” Huo Yue huffed, crossing her arms. ”I’m your fiancée! I’ve been working my fingers to the bone over alchemical cauldrons while you’ve been ’collecting’ interesting girls!”

Haoran’s expression shifted, his hand moving from her waist to grasp her chin gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The playfulness in his face vanished instantly, replaced by a terrifyingly focused intensity. ”Indeed you are my fiancée. And you are special, Yue’er. Never mistake my interest in others for a lack of recognition for what you are.”

Huo Yue clicked her tongue, though her heartbeat quickened despite herself. ”You probably say that to every girl you meet. ’You’re so special, little kitten, stay by my side.’”

She said the last part with a mock imitation of his voice.

”Not every girl,” Haoran corrected, his thumb tracing her lower lip. ”Just the ones who pique my interest. And that is a very, very short list.”

”Oh? I’m honored,” Huo Yue said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ”And pray tell, what kind of girls can pique our ’illustrious’ Young Master Shen’s interest? What is the criteria for entering your prestigious collection?”

Haoran went still, his gaze drifting past her as if he were looking at a mental ledger of the souls he had encountered across the realms.

He thought for a long moment, the silence between them stretching until only the sound of the wind whistling through the sandstone arches remained.

”There are three qualities,” Haoran began, his voice taking on a clinical, lecture-like quality. ”Three specific traits they must possess for them to even be considered ’resources’ worth my personal investment.”

He looked back at her, his eyes cold as ice yet burning with a strange sort of aesthetic appreciation.

”First, they must be a Noble Maiden. This has nothing to do with the blood of kings or the gold in their vaults. To be ’noble’ in my eyes is a matter of the soul’s carriage, it is a girl who possesses an innate pride—one that remains even when she is stripped of her status, her clothes, and her power. I have no interest in the common, the vulgar, or those who grovel easily. I want the girl who can look at the face of death and spit on him.”

He paused, his grip on her chin loosening slightly.

”Second, they must be a Virgin. Again, do not mistake this for a mere obsession with physical purity or the ’red plum’ on the bedsheets. To me, virginity is a metaphor for an untainted path. I want a soul that has not been shaped or warped by the philosophies, or the touch of another man’s Will. I want a blank scroll of the highest quality, so that when I write my own laws upon it, there is no lingering ink from a previous author.”

Huo Yue listened, her breath hitching slightly as she thought of his terrifyingly possessive philosophy.

”And third,” Haoran continued, ”they must be a Flower that blooms after braving the storms. A girl who has lived a life of sheltered peace is useless to me, for she is nothing but a porcelain doll that will shatter the moment the Grand Dao demands a sacrifice. I seek the girl who has been crushed by fate, who has tasted the dirt and the blood of betrayal, yet refused to wither. I want the one who has endured the coldness of the world and used that very coldness to harden her petals into steel, after all only a flower that has survived the storm truly understands the value of the sun.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. ”A Noble Maiden provides the dignity; the Virgin provides the potential; the Storm-braved Flower provides the resilience. Do you understand now, Yue-er? Why I chose you? And why I made an effort to awaken that little cat-girl?”

Indeed. For Haoran, Zhu Ziyan possessed a high potential, and helping her out was only a small matter; if she blooms beautiful, then great, if not, then he loses nothing.

Huo Yue looked at him, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with the desert night.

She realized then that Haoran didn’t love people; he curated them, like he was a gardener of human suffering, picking the most beautiful survivors to decorate his path to the peak.

Of course, in the process of picking the most beautiful flower, he might grow fond of them and never let them go.

For Haoran, Huo Yue and Xueli are exactly those kinds of flower.

”You... You’re a very heartless man, Haoran,” she whispered, though she didn’t pull away.

”I am a Cultivator,” Haoran corrected simply. ”The two are often indistinguishable.”