Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Korgar stood before the altar, his eyes looking complicated, flickering with a mixture of profound grief, desperation, and a burgeoning, madness-tinged resolve.

The structure was a jagged monolith of obsidian and bone, pulsating with a rhythmic, sickening violet light that seemed to drink the very shadows of the camp.

This is the ritual provided by that human Tang Shan, which would allow him to forcefully breakthrough to the legendary Saint Realm, at the cost of the lives of millions of his tribesmen.

Korgar looked at his hands, massive and scarred, then turned his gaze back to the sea of red-skinned warriors who had followed him across the burning wastes of the Wilderness in search of a home.

He stared at the dwindling numbers of his tribe, saw their broken formations and the way they were being harvested by the Central Region geniuses, and he gritted his teeth until they bled.

To save the tribe, he would have to destroy it; to lead them to a new world, he would have to offer their souls to the old gods of the abyss.

Finally, he decided to start the ritual.

He slammed his fist into the center of the altar, his blood acting as the final catalyst for the forbidden array.

At that moment, the sky suddenly turned dark, and lightning clouds began to gather with a velocity that defied the laws of nature.

The vibrant crimson of the sunset was swallowed by a bruised, charcoal blackness.

Shen Haoran, who was walking towards Korgar with a casual grace, paused and looked up, his golden eyes reflecting the sudden flash of distant thunder.

”This is... A heavenly tribulation?” he murmured, ”That giant really is about to ascend to Profound Saint Realm.”

In the vast system of the world’s cultivation, Cultivators typically encounter five heavenly tribulations during their journey to the peak.

The first when they ascend to Spirit Ascension realm, where the soul is tempered to survive outside the body, and granting the Cultivator the ability to naturally fly, and form a Spirit Avatar.

Then to Profound Saint realm, where the mortal coil begins to shed, and the Cultivator will form their own Natal Artifact, and also granted them an innate ability to manipulate space, albeit, on a limited degree, such as creating a pocket space to store their items, open a portal, or cause space to solidify and create a platform.

Then to Earthly Saint realm, where the Cultivator can firmly manipulate space within an area, causing it to freeze, distort, twist, or even break.

Then, the Heavenly Saint realm, where the Cultivator can already create their own separate dimension within their own soul, where life can be sustained.

At this state, the cultivator can grow entire galaxies within them.

And lastly when they ascend to Supreme Emperor realm, the final trial to prove one’s right to rule the heaven and earth.

Of course, there are also those who cultivated some incredibly wicked technique, or those whose cultivation violates the very laws of the Heaven, prompting the heavenly tribulation to descend prematurely as a celestial execution.

”Still, to think that giant actually had the guts to sacrifice millions of his tribe just to ascend, how laughable.”

Shen Haoran watched the altar’s energy expand, sensing the hollow, brittle nature of the power being gathered.

This advancement was a theft, not a refinement.

It is one thing to sacrifice millions of strangers for power, a path many villains and even some so-called heroes had walked in the name of the ”greater good”, but to sacrifice your own kin? To burn the very blood that gave you life?

That power is nothing more than a curse.

It was a debt that the universe would eventually collect with interest, and Haoran can never do that.

This isn’t out of a sense of morality or anything of the sort, but out of a sense of pride.

He believed in the absolute supremacy of his own talent, and to rely on the life-force of others was to admit that his own potential was insufficient.

Especially when the power he receives in exchange isn’t even worth it.

A forced Saint was merely a paper tiger compared to a true master who had weathered the storms of the void with their own strength.

At this moment, all around the sprawling battlefield, the giants who were fighting suddenly stopped.

Their weapons dropped from nerveless fingers, and they looked up with wide, glassy eyes as the runes on their own bodies began to glow with a suicidal intensity.

Then, a million crimson beams of light descended from the darkened clouds and engulfed them.

It was a sight of pure horror.

The barbarians began to scream in pain, their massive bodies vibrating until they simply disintegrated into red mist, their essence, their blood, their qi, and their memories, flying in long, swirling ribbons towards the altar where Korgar stood.

”Wait!”

On the side, Shangguan Mu’er felt annoyed, her bat-like wings snapping shut as she watched her potential ”snacks” evaporate into thin air.

Seeing her meal get eaten by someone else was an insult she took personally.

She turned towards the altar, her yellow eyes flashing with a demonic hunger, and for a moment, she considered charging Korgar to snatch the energy for herself.

However, seeing Shen Haoran walking towards there with that steady, unmistakable aura of dominance, she decided to remain silent.

She trusted her Young Master’s judgment above her own hunger and just looked around for another giant to kill.

After all, there are several millions of barbarians, and not all of them were used as a sacrifice, the ritual probably selected randomly or only demanded the core essence of the tribe’s warriors.

At that moment, Haoran finally appeared before the altar, where Korgar stood.

At this moment, the giant chief was no longer just a titan, his skin was now a blinding, incandescent violet, and his eyes were leaking beams of raw, unrefined energy.

The giant chief stared at him, letting out a laugh that shook the foundations of the mountain. ”You’re late! The ritual is complete! I now have sufficient power to ascend! Now, I only need to undergo the heavenly tribulations and I will be a Saint! I will crush you, and then I will crush your Emperor!”

He looked up at the churning vortex above, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the lightning. ”Come! Test me, Heavens!”

The heavens roared and descended as a massive pillar of violet lightning, thick as a castle tower, slammed into Korgar.

Seeing that, Haoran couldn’t help but shook his head in disappointment, his hands tucked into his sleeves as he stood just outside the strike zone, the wind whipping his golden hair.

Despite ascending to Sainthood, this heavenly tribulation isn’t even as impressive as the one that Shangguan Mu’er had undergone when she broke through to Spirit Ascension Realm.

That was a tribulation of the Demon lineage, filled with the wrath of ancient ancestors, and comapred to that, this was merely the sky clearing its throat to spit on a thief.

Well, it is understandable.

Although the Saint Burial Realm where Mu’er was found is a lower realm, it is a place where countless ancient Saints perished, giving them a rather complete inheritance than the barbarians in the Vast Wilderness who were working with scraps of forgotten history.

Not to mention his aunt, Leng Shuang, was personally overseeing the entire realm, ensuring that the laws of heaven there were sharpened to a razor’s edge.

With all that, this barbarian’s breakthrough was like a child trying to build a fortress out of mud.

On the city wall, the panic reached a crescendo.

Xu Xiaojun paled seeing this, his golden armor clattering as his knees shook. ”W-What the hell!? A barbarian is actually breaking through the Saint realm!? W-Why isn’t Shen Haoran doing anything!? Is he just going to watch him become a Saint!?”

”No! We’re going to die! We’re going to die!” the noble scions around him wailed.

The prospect of facing a Saint, even a forced one, was enough to shatter what little resolve they had left.

”H-Hurry! Let’s hurry back to the Ark!” One noble shouted, already turning away from the battlefield. ”The Ark’s defensive arrays can withstand a Saint for a short time! We need to leave now! Who the hell cares about the Eastern Region anyway!? It’s already a graveyard!”

Lu Xinglan clenched her fist hearing those words, her purple hair crackling with static as the sheer, naked cowardice of the Imperial heir was acting like a toxin in her ears.

She felt a surge of murderous intent directed at the Prince, but she suppressed her rage, staring instead at the heavenly tribulations in the distance.

She saw Haoran standing there, a small, unmoving speck of gold against the violet lightning, and she realized that the fate of her people rested on the shoulders of a ”guest” rather than their ”protector.”

She turned towards the elder beside her, her voice cold and absolute. ”Take command of the city’s final reserves. Close the gates and don’t open them for anyone, not even the Prince if he tries to flee early. I’m heading to the battlefield.”

”But Your Majesty! A Saint’s tribulation is too dangerous!” the elder protested.

”If that boy can stand there, so can I,” she replied.

With that, she transformed into a streak of purple light and flew towards the battlefield, leaving the cowering nobles behind in her wake.

Below, the first bolt of lightning faded, leaving Korgar standing amidst a smoking crater, his skin charred but his aura ballooning to terrifying proportions.

He looked at Haoran and grinned. ”I survived the first strike, according to the legends, there five more to go. Are you ready to die, little human?”

Haoran didn’t answer. He simply waited for the next bolt, his eyes tracing the thinning threads of Korgar’s luck.

The show was almost over.