Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Chapter 116: Chapter 116: The Elder and The Willow Tree

In the deep, emerald-shrouded valleys of the Western Continent, far removed from the cold obsidian spires of the Northern Continent, lay a village that didn’t exist on any imperial map.

It was a place of thatched roofs, tilled earth, and the smell of woodsmoke—a sanctuary for the mundane.

At this moment, in this small, secluded village, the morning mist was being burned away by a pale sun.

Under the shade of a massive, gnarled banyan tree, an old man sat on a stump, his back slightly hunched, his eyes possessing a depth of sorrow that no simple farmer could ever understand.

Around him, a group of seven children, ranging from five to ten years old, sat cross-legged on the dirt, their faces scrubbed clean and their expressions filled with a budding, fierce curiosity.

This old man was Elder Ji, once a Heavenly Saint of the now-extinguished Golden Cloud Immortal Sect.

He no longer wore his embroidered robes of gold and white; instead, he was dressed in simple, coarse linen, looking like nothing more than a retired scholar.

”Grandpa, what is the Body Refining Realm? Is it like being a blacksmith? Instead of refining iron, we refine our body?” asked one of the boys, the eldest of the group, whose eyes were fixed on the Elder’s weathered hands.

Elder Ji looked at the boy and offered a small, tired smile. ”You’re not wrong to think that. It is the first true step on the path, little one. Think of your body as a temple that has been neglected. Body Refining is the process of renovation. You temper your flesh, your bones, and your blood until your body itself becomes a weapon. Before you can touch the heavens with your spirit, you must first survive the weight of them with your skin.”

Another child, a boy with messy hair and a restless spirit, piped up, ”Why can’t I just skip it and learn the strong techniques? I saw a mercenary once who could throw fire! I want to throw fire!”

Elder Ji shook his head patiently, his voice calm and melodic. ”A weak body cannot hold strong power, child. It would be like trying to pour boiling, molten steel into a thin paper cup—the cup will instantly burn and turn to ash before the steel can ever be shaped. If you try to hold the breath of the heavens in a body made of straw, you will simply burn from the inside out.”

A little girl with braided hair looked up, her voice small and hesitant. ”Does it hurt? The refining?”

Elder Ji’s gaze softened, but he did not lie and gave a slow, solemn nod. ”If it doesn’t hurt, you are not refining; you are merely playing. Pain is the hammer, little one, while your body is the iron. Without the strike of the hammer, nothing changes, and the iron remains a useless lump of ore. You must learn to make the pain your friend, for it is the only thing that tells you that you are growing.”

”How strong can someone become in that realm?” another child asked, his hands clenched into tiny, determined fists. ”Can they jump over the mountains?”

”At its peak,” Elder Ji answered, his voice growing a bit more rhythmic as he recalled his own youth, ”a Body Refiner can tear the most vicious forest beasts apart with their bare hands. They can outrun the swiftest arrows and stand unbroken under a crushing force that would flatten a house. But remember, that is only the beginning. It is the foundation upon which the palace of your soul will be built.”

The children all stared at him with bright, sparkling eyes, their imaginations ignited by the tales of a strength they could barely fathom.

Elder Ji smiled, a genuine flicker of warmth reaching his eyes for the first time in a long time.

It had taken him a full month to reach this state of relative peace.

After learning of his sect’s total and brutal demise—the news that his brothers were beheaded and his home was razed to ash—he had stayed alone in that cold, snowy cave for weeks.

He had contemplated ending his own life, wondering if a guardian without a ward and a priest without a temple had any reason to continue breathing.

He wanted to die with the Golden Cloud.

But he had remembered the last order of the Sect Master, and he had realized then that as long as he breathed, the Golden Cloud was not entirely gone.

So, after spending time praying for the deceased, he had set off, traveling in disguise until he found this secluded village being attacked by bandits.

He killed them and then took on the role of a wandering teacher and the village’s guardian, finding a strange, quiet purpose in the faces of these innocent children.

He hoped that one day, the glory of his sect might once again shine, even if its new light was born in the dirt of this lower realm.

Just then, a sudden, violent vibration rippled through the air, and the sky to the south darkened rapidly, turning a bruised violet.

Elder Ji looked up, his eyes narrowing, the instincts of a Heavenly Saint flaring to life.

”Someone is breaking through to the Spirit Ascension Realm,” he muttered to himself.

The power signature was immense, carrying a conceptual weight that suggested a legacy of great ancient power.

However, after a few seconds, he shook his head and turned back to the children.

Whoever that was, it was no longer his concern. The war of those chosen ones and those old powers were far away from him.

Right now, his only duty was to make sure these kids grew up with a foundation that would never break.

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Countless distance away, in the ancient, fog-shrouded Stone Village, a different kind of sentinel remained watchful.

At the center of the village stood a massive, and old Willow Tree.

Its branches sway, no not just sway, they seemed to dance to a music that existed outside of time.

Just then, as the sky in the distance turned dark, the Willow Tree shook its branches, and its leaves chiming like bells.

At that moment, a soft,feminine, and ethereal voice sighed into the wind. ”Someone is breaking through to the Spirit Ascension realm. Just in time. The laws of the world should be unstable now, it is the perfect chance to escape without getting noticed. But...”

The Willow Tree shifted its focus to the child sitting at its roots.

The boy, known to the village as Shen Hao, looked to be no older than nine. He had clear, bright eyes and a face that still held the soft roundness of childhood.

Shen. Yes, he was indeed related to that legendary, terrifying Shen Clan.

The Willow Tree remembered the day twenty years ago when a couple had stumbled into the Stone Village.

They were a pathetic sight—injured, and their foundations shattered beyond any hope of repair by the ruthless arts you can only see in the Upper Realm.

Their strength had been permanently suppressed to the Nascent Soul realm, a death sentence for those used to the High Heavens.

They had brought with them an infant, Shen Hao.

Back then, the child was dying, his tiny body failing after his Divine Physique—his very life-source—had been violently extracted from his marrow and gifted to the son of the Matriarch, Chu Xueyu.

The couple had prostrated themselves before the Willow Tree, begging for the life of their child.

Taking pity on the wreckage of their lives, the Willow Tree had intervened.

She had used her ancient, primordial powers to put the infant into a state of suspended animation, a magical sleep that allowed her to slowly regrow his vitality over the decades.

This was why Shen Hao, despite being chronologically twenty years old, still looked and acted like a young child.

He had only been ”awakened” from his slumber nine years ago, his body finally healed enough to resume its natural growth.

The Willow Tree had learned later that the couple were members of the Shen main line who had been banished for being the parents of a child whose physique was needed by the ”True Successor,” Shen Haoran.

When the Willow Tree heard that, she had regretted helping them.

Before, at least she only offended Feng Yuyan, but now she had offended the entirety of Shen Clan for helping this family.

What did she do to deserve this?!

Was she a great demon king in her past life? Why does the universe like to bully a poor old tree like her!?

Still, what’s done is done, she can only blame her luck.

After realising that their child is okay and will wake up one day, the parents had moved to another part of the continent and created a small, secret sect, working desperately in the shadows to gather resources for the day their son would finally be ready to take back what was stolen.

The Willow Tree let out another sigh, her branches brushing against the boy’s hair.

”Child, come here,” she called.

Shen Hao, who was currently preoccupied with drinking a bowl of high-grade beast milk provided by the village hunters, looked up.

He wiped a white mustache from his lip and ran toward the silver trunk, his movements possessing a natural, feline grace.

”What is it, Master? Are we going to practice the Emerald Life Spirit Technique again?” he asked, his voice high and full of energy.

The Willow Tree’s branches shimmered. ”No, child. The time for quiet study is coming to an end. The sky is changing, and the world is preparing for a new era. It is time for you to leave this village. It is time for you to go on a journey and find the truth of your name.”

Good. She sounded like a profound elder there for second. She can really nail this teacher thing if she try.

Shen Hao’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and fear crossing his young face.

He looked out toward the horizon where he saw several golden lightning was striking, sensing for the first time a tug on his soul that pulled him toward the distant, golden light.