Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

At this moment, on a bustling city, the clamor of Mortals and cultivators collided in a cacophony of sound, scent, and vibrant movement.

The grand avenue of the border metropolis was paved in polished river stone, flanked by multi-tiered timber pavilions adorned with swaying red silk lanterns and shimmering spirit-ward banners.

Cultivators from across the southern marches rubbed shoulders with traveling merchants, beast-tamers guiding chained scaled hounds, and robed disciples sporting crests of lesser regional sects.

The air was rich with the aroma of roasted spiritual venison, steaming buns infused with sweet cloud-herbs, and the metallic tang of freshly tempered spirit swords resting upon the velvet cloths of open-air stalls.

Here, Qian Yunxi walked with an effortless, buoyant stride, her pristine white martial tunic embroidered with silver feather motifs that billowed slightly around her lithe, athletic frame.

Her long golden hair was currently in a high ponytail that swayed like liquid sunbeams, framing a face of exquisite, unblemished radiance.

Her bright blue eyes darted with casual curiosity across the colorful displays, though her shoulders remained square.

Dozens of meters away from her, Qing Yan was also browsing through the stalls.

He kept his hands loosely tucked within the wide folds of his robes, blending naturally into the bustling crowd, while turning his gaze towards Qian Yunxi from time to time.

Unknown to him, somewhere, a pair of eyes was locked onto his back.

High above the crowded avenue, nestled within the deep, violet shadows of a third-story tea house balcony, a veiled figure watched through carved lattice screens.

The observer was draped in sheer, wine-red gossamer silks that clung tightly to a voluptuous, dangerous silhouette, smelling of suffocating night-blooming jasmine and intoxicating musk.

Through the thin crimson veil, a pair of seductive, serpentine eyes flushed with pink demonic light bored straight through the bustling crowd, tracking Qing Yan’s every movement, every casual tilt of his jaw, and the subtle, intoxicating frequency of his aura.

That man...

The figure’s breath hitched, slender fingers tipped with lacquered vermilion nails digging deep into the varnished railing.

He is the perfect inheritor for the God of Lust!

The woman’s chest heaved as her heart hammered with unbridled fanaticism.

She had traveled three thousand miles across the southern domains, scouring hundreds of ancient clans and scouring imperial capitals in search of a vessel capable of withstanding the raw, corrupting divinity of the primordial Joyful Desires.

Ninety-nine percent of mortal men carried souls too muddy, too weak, or too vulgar to bear the touch of the pink celestial throne.

But the young man below—his bone structure, the purity of his spirit sea, the intoxicating, natural allure humming beneath his reserved facade—it was a match carved by the heavens themselves!

’I need to bring him back to the sect!’ the woman resolved fiercely, a predatory smirk curling beneath her veil as she quietly gathered the pink, seductive demonic mist swirling around her wrists, preparing an inescapable web.

Down on the street, entirely oblivious to the lecherous gaze lingering in the upper rafters, Qing Yan paused before a low, weathered stall nestled between a dried herb merchant and an old talisman peddler.

The vendor was a rat-faced, middle-aged cultivator with a sparse beard and narrow, calculating eyes, dressed in patched gray linen robes that had seen far better decades.

His stall was an unorganized mountain of rusted bronze daggers, cracked jade bangles, cloudy spirit-beast claws, and cloudy quartz trinkets—the typical refuse harvested from plundered outer graves that rogue scavengers sold to naive youths for a few copper coins.

Yet, resting on a frayed square of dirty purple felt at the corner of the table, half-buried beneath chipped prayer beads, was an unassuming piece of jewelry.

Qing Yan stared at the golden necklace shaped like tear drop in front of a vendor.

It was crafted from an ancient, unpolished celestial gold that seemed completely dull beneath the mortal sun, carrying no obvious spiritual ripples or elemental aura.

To an ordinary merchant or a low-tier cultivator, it looked like a worthless copper trinket molded into a crude, weeping teardrop.

However, Qing Yan did not rely merely on ordinary sigh.

[System Diagnostic Initialized...]

[Target Identified: Ancient Artifact]

[Item: Teardrop of The Divine Messenger]

[Description: A tear-drop shaped necklace made from the solidified blood of Six Winged Divine Emperor. Contains a piece of inheritance of said emperor.]

’This... Six Winged Divine Emperor, isn’t that the bloodline of Qian Yunxi?’ Qing Yan thought, his eyes widening by a fraction of a millimeter.

Although he has no idea who this Six Winged Divine Emperor was, but to bear the word ”Emperor” on the title, he must at least be a Supreme Emperor.

To find a crystallized teardrop forged from the genuine blood of a Supreme Emperor lying in a heap of junk on a mortal street was a karmic coincidence bordering on the miraculous!

’...could it be...I really am a Protagonist?’

Just then, Qian Yunxi, who was browsing through other stalls, came towards him.

She had finished glancing over a basket of cheap spirit-fox pelts three stalls down, strolling over with a calm expression to see what had caught his eye.

She was about to speak, but the words caught on her throat as the moment her boots stopped beside his side, Qian Yunxi’s eyes were immediately drawn towards the necklace.

THUMP.

It was as if an invisible, golden lightning bolt had struck directly into the deepest sanctuary of her soul.

Her gaze locked onto the dull, teardrop shaped gold pendant, unable to look away for even a single second.

The bustling street around her—the shouting vendors, the rolling carts, the laughter of children—all seemed to fade into a hollow, underwater murmur.

Her breath hitched in her chest as deep within the core of her heart, her long-dormant bloodline violently ignited!

A wild, roaring tide of primordial golden fire surged through her meridians, causing her heart beat to accelerate into a frantic, deafening rhythm.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

Her skin prickled with intense, feverish heat as eery single drop of blood in her veins screamed in joyful, reverent recognition, weeping for the artifact resting upon that dirty cloth like a lost child recognizing the voice of its mother across a vast, barren desert.

Before Qing Yan could say anything, Qian Yunxi immediately stepped forward and turned towards the vendor.

”How much for this necklace?” Her voice, usually so steady, carried a distinct, breathless tremor that she could not suppress in time.

The rat-faced vendor was an old fox of the marketplace.

The instant he heard the breathless urgency in her tone, and noticed the sheer, trembling hunger burning in the eyes of this clearly noble, wealthy, and well-dressed young maiden, his sparse beard twitched with greasy, unrestrained delight.

’A fat sheep, no, a golden goose who has fallen straight from the sky!’

The vendor immediately adopted a pained, reluctant expression, clutching his chest with theatrical sorrow as he slowly reached out, delicately picking up the necklace as if it were the most fragile, sacred treasure under the heavens, carefully polishing the dull gold against his sleeve.

”Ah, young mistress! You have the eyes of a true immortal master!” the vendor lamented loudly, shaking his head with an expression of profound, lingering trauma. ”You see this necklace? This is no ordinary trinket! My friend’s, father’s, grandfather’s grandfather pulled this from the depths of the Forbidden Howling Abyss, braving three-headed poisonous hydras and soul-devouring ghosts! Nine of my ancestral brothers bled their last drop of marrow just to carry this divine relic past the ancient killing formations! I have guarded it for forty years, waiting for an immortal worthy of its hidden grace!”

He paused for dramatic effect, puffing out his chest, ”If it were anyone else, I would never part with it for less than a city’s ransom! But seeing your noble bearing, I can let it go for... ten thousand low-grade spirit stones!”

Ten thousand low-grade spirit stones was an astronomical, daylight-robbery figure for an unregistered street stall.

It was enough to purchase an entire estate in the commercial district, or buy three rank 3 artifacts from an accredited chamber of commerce!

Qian Yunxi frowned deeply.

The vendor, seeing her furrowed brow, immediately misinterpreted her hesitation.

The vendor thought that she doesn’t have enough and panicked slightly, fearing he had overplayed his hand and scared the young customer away entirely.

He slapped his own thigh, quickly leaning forward with an obsequious, greasy smile, ”Aiya, looking closely at your countenance, young mistress, you truly radiate the same pure aura as the maiden carved on the ancient murals of the abyss! Fate! This is an undeniable fate between you and this sacred treasure! How could I let a few stones stand in the way of heaven’s destiny? I will take a loss today and give you a magnificent discount! You can have this necklace for 9 thousand low-grade spirit stones! Not a single stone less, my heart is already weeping tears of blood!”

Qian Yunxi shook her head, and with a smooth, flicking motion of her slender fingers, she reached into her spatial ring and casually tossed one high grade spirit stone straight onto the center of the weathered purple felt.

CLINK!

The stone was breathtaking—a pristine, translucent diamond-like crystal radiating dense, pure, and overwhelming spiritual mist that instantly illuminated the dim stall in brilliant, multi-colored celestial halos.

The sheer concentration of refined, unpolluted energy leaking from that single stone made the surrounding air feel instantly sweet and invigorating.

One high-grade spirit stone was worth ten thousand mid-grade spirit stones, and one mid-grade spirit stones is worth ten thousand low-grade spirit stones.

In other words, this one stone alone was worth a hundred million low grade spirit stones!

In this Ancient Heaven Star, that amount of wealth is enough to start a sect!

”I don’t have a low grade spirit stone, so take this,” Qian Yunxi said smoothly, her tone careless and detached, as if she had merely tossed a copper coin to a beggar in the street.

The vendor froze. His jaw dropped so violently it looked as though it might dislocate, his eyes bulging until they nearly popped from their sockets as he stared at the glowing, pulsing high-grade spirit stone lying upon his dirty cloth.

And with that, under the stunned gaze of the vendor, Qian Yunxi didn’t wait for another word.

She reached out with delicate fingers, took the necklace from the table, and put it on around her slender, porcelain neck.

CLICK.

The simple gold clasp snapped shut against her nape.

At that very instant—

HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM—!

The entire universe seemed to fall into complete, suspended stillness.

The ambient clamor of the crowded avenue vanished from her senses.

The teardrop pendant resting against the hollow of her collarbones did not feel cold like metal, but burned with a gentle, incandescent warmth that seeped directly through her skin, penetrating straight into her sternum, flooding her dantians with an ancient, boundless, and primordial solar light.

She felt a warm embrace, like a gentle caress of a mother.

It was an overwhelming, profound sensation of absolute love, ancient protection, and eternal belonging—as if two colossal, feathered wings of pure golden dawn had enveloped her bruised, weary soul, washing away every trace of mortal fear, every lingering doubt, and every ounce of spiritual fatigue.

Tears of pure, instinctual reverence welled up in the corners of Qian Yunxi’s blue eyes.

And then, deep within the innermost sanctum of her consciousness, an ethereal, melodious, and magnificent feminine voice whispered to her ears.

”Finally... you appeared.”

The whisper carried the sorrow of thousands of years of waiting, the eternal pride of an emperor looking upon her descendant.

However—

Before she can think about those words, before her mind could even begin to process the cosmic weight of that ancient greeting—

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT—!!!!!

Her instincts screamed a deafening, catastrophic alarm inside her soul and an overwhelming, suffocating sense of lethal crisis violently slammed into the back of her skull.

Then, without a moment of delay, six magnificent, colossal feathered wings forged from pure, blinding divinity erupted through the fabric of her white robe, spanning over thirty paces wide, scattering incandescent golden feathers into the screaming crowd.

Then...

She flew up!

Her boots kicked off the river stones with explosive kinetic force, shooting fifty feet straight into the sky like an ascending golden goddess.

Not only that, four of the massive, golden-feathered wings snapped shut across her chest and head, locking into an impenetrable, multi-layered dome of celestial radiance.

At that moment....

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!!!

The entire lower avenue directly beneath her former footsteps detonated into a catastrophic, roaring mushroom cloud of violent pink demonic fire and concussive shockwaves.

The stalls, the river stones, the multi-story timber pavilions, and the street itself were instantly obliterated into splintered rubble and pink, sizzling ash.