Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Warm...

That was the very first sensation that managed to pierce through the icy, suffocating shroud of non-existence.

It did not arrive with the violent, flesh-searing agony of her Imperial Flame Transformation technique tearing through ruptured meridians, nor did it carry the bitter, freezing bite of the abyssal brine that had filled her lungs and dragged her down into the sunken graveyard of the reef.

It was a gentle, pervasive heat—soft, steady, and profound, like the first golden rays of an equatorial dawn creeping over frost-covered flagstones.

It wrapped around the bruised core of her soul, cradling the shattered remnants of her consciousness with an ancient, primordial gentleness she had not felt since the earliest days of her childhood.

Am I dead?

The thought drifted through the murky expanse of her mind like a solitary leaf caught upon the surface of a tranquil, bottomless pond.

If this was death, then the ancient scrolls had lied.

There was no bitter crossing over the yellow springs, no mournful wailing of wandering ghosts, and no iron-faced judges of the underworld weighing the weight of her sins upon rusted scales.

There was only this strange, enveloping stillness.

How much time has passed?

Had it been mere seconds since the timber cross plunged into the sea?

Or had decades slipped away while her physical shell drifted in the sunless depths, leaving the world to move on without her?

What about Haoran? Did Xiansu got her dirty hands on him?

’No... I cannot stay here. I cannot let this be the end of me.’

As that fierce, stubborn spark of mortal defiance flared within the quiet abyss, Huo Yue suddenly opened her eyes.

At that, she finally realized that she was not beneath the ocean, nor was she still trapped within the choking mud of the sea floor.

She found herself standing—or perhaps floating—within a boundless, empty void of pure, velvet twilight.

There was no sky above her, no earth beneath her soles, and no horizon to divide the vast emptiness.

And there, dominating the entirety of the infinite expanse before her, she was staring directly at a sun.

It was not the pale, distant star that illuminated the mortal continent, but a colossal, primeval orb of absolute, unadulterated solar divinity.

Its surface rolled with majestic prominences of pure, liquid gold, arcing millions of miles into the void in silent, glorious coronas.

The radiant light did not blind her, in fact, it resonated with the very marrow of her bones, bathing her spirit in the true, untainted origin laws of fire.

She stared into the heart of the star, mesmerized by its boundless, unconditional majesty.

And at that moment, deep within the most fundamental layer of her soul, something seems to snap.

CRACK—!

It was the sound of an ancient lock breaking apart, the shattering of an invisible, generational shackle that had constrained her bloodline since the dawn of the current epoch.

”GASP—!”

Just then, a violent, desperate intake of air tore through her chest, expanding her lungs so forcefully that her ribs ached.

The vision of the boundless void and the primeval sun shattered like brittle spun glass.

Huo Yue found herself sitting up straight in a small, rustic wooden hut.

The suddenness of her waking motion made her head spin with dizzying vertigo as she braced her palms against the surface beneath her, feeling the coarse, woven texture of a dried grass and linen sleeping mat laid over polished volcanic cedar planks.

The rich, earthy scent of dried chamomile, dried sea-lavender, and aromatic smoldering sandalwood filled the small room, mingling with the unmistakable, sharp tang of volcanic sulfur and crisp sea breezes drifting through a wide, open window.

Golden morning sunlight poured through the bamboo-framed opening in warm, dusty beams, painting the rustic timber walls in hues of soft amber.

Huo Yue blinked rapidly, the bright natural light stinging her retinas as she tried to reorient her scattered senses.

Her breath came in rapid, shallow gasps, her throat dry and raspy, tasting faintly of sweet, crushed herbal pulp rather than bitter brine.

The memories of the sacrificial cliff, the dancing tribal women, the cold ocean depths, and the terrifying paralysis of her meridians rushed back into her mind in an instant.

Instinctively, she lowered her hands to check her clothes—

And she immediately froze.

Her hands did not meet the rough, brine-soaked fabric of her red martial tunic, nor the shredded remains of her combat trousers.

Her pale palms rested directly against the bare, warm skin of her own thighs.

’...I’m naked.’

She was completely naked.

Not a single thread of cloth covered her body, her crimson dress, her protective leather boots—all of it was gone.

She raised her trembling right hand to her face, her eyes widening in immediate, sharp panic as she realized that even her storage ring was missing from her finger!

No, more than that, she was naked!

A cold, electric jolt of panic surged from the base of her spine straight to the crown of her head.

Disregarding the lingering soreness in her joints, Huo Yue immediately scrambled backward across the grass mat, pressing her spine against the sturdy wooden wall of the hut.

She curled her knees to her chest, crossing her arms defensively over her exposed torso, her sharp red eyes darting wildly across her own skin as she desperately began checking her body for any signs of assault.

She examined the delicate skin of her inner thighs, her hips, her wrists, and her collarbones.

She checked for foreign bruises, for lingering medicinal talismans, for the telltale spiritual marks of defilement or invasive dual-cultivation arts.

She probed her lower abdomen with a trembling fingertip, turning her divine sense inward to check yin essence and examine her spiritual channels.

And thankfully, there was no signs of assault.

Her yin essence still only has Haoran’s traces of it, her skin was clean, smooth, and free of any crude marks, even smelling faintly of soothing crushed lotus oil that had evidently been used to dress the rope burns on her wrists and ankles.

Aside from the natural weariness of a body that had violently defied drowning, she had not been violated in any way.

Huo Yue closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of profound, unadulterated relief that caused her shoulders to sag.

Thank the heavens...

Her knuckles tightened around her shins as a dark resolve hardened within her thoughts.

If some filthy rogue cultivator, some depraved barbarian, or some perverted weirdo had dared to touch her, lay crude hands upon her, or do inappropriate things to her while she was lying helpless and unconscious...

Then she would have gathered every remaining drop of her life-force, detonated her dantian in an act of absolute, mutually assured destruction, and definitely ended her life right then and there, dragging whoever had dared defile her dignity straight into the deepest pits of hell with her.

Her pride as Haoran’s fiancee, and her dignity as a woman, was far more sacred than the miserable breath in her lungs.

To live on after being subjected to such unspeakable humiliation was a fate ten thousand times worse than death.

”You’re awake.”

Just then, a voice sounded from the doorway.

It qas soft, melodious, and carrying a rich, resonant warmth that reminded Huo Yue of sun-drenched stones on a summer afternoon.

Huo Yue flinched, her red eyes snapping open with wild, defensive alertness.

She pulled the thin linen blanket resting at the foot of the mat tightly around her bare shoulders, shielding her body as she turned her head toward the entrance.

Standing in the rustic doorframe, leaning casually against the polished timber with an expression of serene, quiet amusement, was a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, possessing an aristocratic, ethereal grace that seemed completely out of place in a simple island hut.

Her figure was tall, slender, and impeccably proportioned, clad in magnificent, sweeping robes woven from gossamer golden flame-silk that seemed to shimmer like liquid dawn with her every breath.

Her hair was a marvel—long, luxurious strands of vibrant, silky orange that cascaded down past her waist like a flowing river of molten twilight, swaying gently in the tropical breeze that blew through the door.

Draped across her collarbones, resting proudly against her sternum, was an ancient, palm-sized medallion forged from star-gold and shaped like a blazing sun with nine interlocking celestial rings.

Matching sun-like earrings dangled from her delicate earlobes, swaying softly and catching the golden morning light.

And when the woman raised her head, Huo Yue was captured by a pair of captivating, fathomless hazel eyes that held both the gentle warmth of a mother’s embrace and the terrifying, ancient majesty of a star.

The orange-haired woman pushed off from the doorframe, taking a slow, graceful step into the room, a warm, knowing smile parting her rosy lips as she looked down at the defensive, blanket-wrapped girl.

”How are you doing, descendant of the sun?”

The warm morning light slanted through the window, catching the dust motes dancing lazily in the fragrant, sandalwood-scented air.

Huo Yue sat pulled back against the cedar wall, her fingers clutching the rough linen blanket tightly to her collarbone, shielding her bare skin from the foreign gaze.

The words still hung between them, heavy with ancient implication, ringing softly in her ears.

Descendant of the sun?

Huo Yue was visibly confused about that descendant part as a slight frown creased her brow, her eyes darting between the strange woman’s radiant hazel pupils and the glowing star-gold medallion resting against her chest.

Her lineage was that of the fallen Huo Clan, how is she suddenly related to this so-called sun?

No, could it be her Imperial Flame Transformation technique? Did that somehow altered her bloodline or physique?

However, she decided to forget about that for now.

In the brutal, cutthroat world of cultivation, indulging in cryptic lineage mysteries was a luxury reserved for the safe and well-fed.

Right now, she was an injured, stripped Nascent Soul cultivator sitting completely defenseless in an unknown territory surrounded by unknown powers.

Clearing her throat, which still ached with the lingering phantom burn of sea salt and swallowed brine, Huo Yue lowered her guard by a fraction of an inch.

”Excuse me, senior. Are you the one who saved me?”

The orange-haired woman nodded gently, the motion causing her long, shimmering locks to ripple over her shoulders like molten twilight.

Her sun-like earrings chimed softly against her neck as she walked farther into the room, moving with the silent, fluid grace of an apex spirit beast that had long mastered every breath of her physical vessel.

”Indeed, young one,” the woman replied, her melodious voice carrying an effortless warmth that seemed to naturally soothe the tension coiled in Huo Yue’s muscles. ”You were trapped to a timber cross of iron-bark, weighted down to drown in the deep abyss of that water tribe’s territorial waters. Had we arrived even half an incense stick later, the hydraulic pressure of the deep sea and the venomous sea-leech moss bound to those ropes would have permanently collapsed your spirit core.”

The woman paused, her hazel eyes softening with a look of ancient, reverent solemnity as she continued, ”During our sacred prayers at the volcanic caldera, our tribe had received an undeniable divine oracle about you, and I had immediately mobilized the guard and rescued you from the ocean’s depths before the darkness could swallow you whole.”

”An oracle...” Huo Yue murmured under her breath, the memory of that blinding primeval sun in the empty void flashing across her mind for a brief second.

Huo Yue nodded, bowing her head slightly in genuine, profound gratitude toward the woman.

Regardless of the strange talk of oracles and whatnot, the simple, undeniable truth was that this person had pulled her from the jaws of a watery grave when her own strength had entirely failed her.

”Thank you, Senior,” Huo Yue spoke, her tone sincere, carrying the quiet humility of someone who had long tasted the bitter dirt of the mortal plane. ”I owe you my life. If not for your timely intervention, my bones would be rotting among the coral reefs right now.”

She paused, her red eyes shifting self-consciously down to the coarse linen blanket draped over her bare chest.

Her cheeks flushed with a faint, embarrassed warmth as she hesitated, before she asked, ”Senior, may I asked what happened to my clothes and storage ring?”

The orange-haired woman let out a soft, melodious chuckle, amused by the young cultivator’s acute modesty and lingering wariness.

”Be at ease, little flame,” the woman said, waving her slender, elegant hand dismissively. ”Your clothes were thoroughly saturated with the vile, flesh-rotting venom the water barbarians use to treat their sacrificial bindings, not to mention soaked in brine and your own blood. My handmaidens stripped them away and washed them thoroughly with purified spring water; they were left outside in the courtyard to dry beneath the midday sun. You shall have them returned once the fabric is cleansed of the poison.”

”And my ring...?” Huo Yue pressed, her pulse quickening slightly.

The storage ring was not merely a sack for spirit stones and healing pills; inside it rested the single, irreplaceable item she had always kept...the image artifact containing all images she took with Medusa, Ziyan, and her master during their adventure.

Hearing the desperate edge in the girl’s voice, the woman did not hesitate or play coy.

She immediately reached into the wide, embroidered fold of her gossamer golden flame-silk sleeve, took out an ancient, silver-banded storage ring, and handed it straight to her.

Huo Yue’s breath hitched in relief as she took the ring with both hands, her thumb instinctively tracing the familiar, cool metallic contours of the band.

Sending a quiet wisp of her spiritual sense into the core of the artifact, she immediately verified that the seals were completely intact, and not a single item had been disturbed, no foreign probe had bypassed her soul mark, and her photos lay resting safely upon a bed of red velvet within the inner pocket.

A profound, genuine weight lifted from Huo Yue’s chest, causing her to exhale a long, shuddering breath.

Holding the ring close to her sternum, she slipped it back onto her right ring finger, then lowered her head and bowed deeply towards the beautiful woman from where she sat upon the woven grass mat, thanking her once again from the very bottom of her heart.

”Senior’s benevolence is as vast as the sea. To return a cultivator’s spatial ring untouched is a grace rarely found in this world. This junior shall never forget this favor.”

Straightening her posture, Huo Yue then formally introduced herself, stating her identity clearly and without deception, ”My name is Shen Huo. Just a simple wandering rogue cultivator.”

Sike! She’s not going to reveal her true identity to some random people she just met, even though they had saved her.

The woman smiled warmly, listening to the girl’s words with deep, appreciative patience as she gave a small, regal nod of acknowledgment in return, her posture naturally exuding the unbending dignity of an ancient matriarch.

”Well met, Shen Huo,” the woman introduced herself with calm, resonant authority. ”I am Augusta, Chief of the Sun Tribe of these southern volcanic isles.”

”Chief Augusta...” Huo Yue repeated the name softly in her mind.

The title felt ancient, earthy, and entirely disconnected from the rigid, bureaucratic hierarchies of the illustrious cultivation sects of the mainland.

There were no Grand Elders, no Sect Masters, and no Prime Disciples here—only a tribe whose very existence seemed intertwined with the molten breath of the volcanic mountain.

Augusta took another step forward, stepping close to the edge of the woven sleeping mat.

Her towering, statuesque frame cast a long, gentle shadow over the young cultivator, but the aura radiating from her body carried no hostility, only the suffocating, immense depth of an unfathomable ocean of pure sun.

Augusta then leaned forward, bringing her sculpted, aristocratic face closer to Huo Yue’s.

Her hazel eyes sparkled with ancient, penetrating wisdom, locking onto Huo Yue’s amber pupils as a wide, knowing, and profoundly mysterious smile parted her lips.

Her gaze was not merely looking at Huo Yue’s physical features; it seemed to pierce straight through her flesh, past her meridians, and deep into her very own soul.

The room instantly fell into an breathless stillness.

The distant roar of the ocean waves against the volcanic cliffs seemed to fade into a dull, rhythmic whisper as Augusta spoke, her voice dropping into a low, intimate murmur that vibrated directly against the strings of Huo Yue’s soul.

”Huo Yue... do you believe in gods?”