Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Inside a small dormitory, Qing Yan sat alone on his bed, staring blankly at the system.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight to block out the morning light of the academy grounds.

Dust motes drifted lazily through the thin cracks of shadow, settling on the unwashed floorboards and the cold wooden table.

A single oil lamp flickered weakly in the corner, throwing long, twisted shadows across the walls.

Qing Yan pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his trembling arms tightly around his legs.

His knuckles were pale, his nails digging into the coarse cloth of his trousers until his palms went numb.

Two years had passed since he was captured, and he was still unable to move on.

Every time he closed his eyelids, the dark dampness of that underground dungeon rushed back to choke him.

He could still smell the foul water pooling around his ankles, the stench of sour sweat, cheap wine, and iron-heavy blood.

He could still hear the rough, mocking laughter of those filthy demon hags, their coarse hands tearing away his robes while he was bound to the rusted chains.

The memory of their heavy weight pinning him down, the burning shame, the rough mocking words hissed into his ear, and the sheer helplessness of having his body used and violated by creatures lower than beasts—it was an iron nail driven straight into his soul.

He shuddered violently, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.

He gagged, burying his face into his knees, his shoulders shaking with silent, dry sobs.

Even after washing his skin until it was raw and bleeding with harsh soap, he still felt filthy.

He felt like a broken vase glued back together with dirt, permanently stained by the hands that had defiled him in that pit.

The only good thing that came out of it was that he directly broke through to Spirit Ascension realm, and the system had given him lots of pills, herbs, artifacts, and techniques.

Golden medicine bottles that could rebuild broken tendons, fragrant spirit roots dug from thousand year old earth, high tier armor woven from silver wire, and ancient scroll manuals that detailed flying sword arts—all of it sat untouched in his inventory boxes.

The massive surge of energy had pushed through his clogged meridians in a violent burst, smashing open the gate of Spirit Ascension and making his sea of energy ten times wider than before.

And because he broke through with the help of the system, he didn’t even have to undergo a Heavenly Tribulation or even understand his dao.

To any other disciple in the Imperial Academy, breaking through to such a high realm at his age would have been cause for ten days of drunken celebration.

But he couldn’t even be happy.

The golden energy flowing through his channels felt cold and hollow.

The shining swords and rare pills meant nothing to him.

They could not wipe away the phantom touches that made his skin crawl every time the wind blew through his window.

They could not silence the crude jeers that echoed in his ears whenever the room fell quiet.

Right now, he just wanted to see his goddess, Qian Yunxi.

A feverish, desperate light flickered to life within his bloodshot eyes as he lifted his head from his knees, his breath hitching as his fingers reached out to touch the empty air.

Qian Yunxi.

The holy maiden. The one who had walked into that stinking, bloody cave like an immortal descending from the high heavens.

He remembered the pure white glow of her robes cutting through the muck, the gentle chime of her heavenly voice, and the soft, cool touch of her hand as she severed his rusted iron chains and wrapped a clean cloak around his shivering, bare shoulders and led him away from that nightmare.

When the whole world had treated him like worthless meat, she had looked at him without disgust.

She had pulled him out of the dark.

Ever since that day, she was the only clean thing left in his broken universe.

His longing had long crossed the border into a dark, suffocating obsession.

He didn’t just admire her; he needed her like a dying man needed air.

She was his cure, his medicine, his personal sun.

In his twisted thoughts, no one else was worthy of looking at her.

Those arrogant young masters from noble clans, the loud students who smiled at her in the courtyards—they were all dirty flies buzzing around a pure white lotus.

He wanted her all for himself.

He wanted to build a high, secluded tower of white jade, bring her inside, and shut the doors against the foul outside world.

He wanted her to look only at him, speak only to him, and heal the phantom scars carved across his back with her soft, holy hands.

If he could just hold her hem, if he could just rest his head upon her lap and let her sacred aura wash over him, the nightmares would stop.

He was certain of it.

”Yunxi...” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracked and dry, his fingers curling tightly into fists as he stared into the dark corner of his room. ”Wait for me. I have strength now. I have the tools. No one will take you away from me...”

His first goal, was, of course, Shen Haoran.

For him, he was the devil that chains his goddess, someone that he must defeat.

And as someone with a system, along with the increase of his strength, he didn’t even consider Haoran to be a worthy opponent anymore.

*

*

*

Across the academy grounds, inside the high, elegant quarters of the Clock Tower, the atmosphere was completely different.

The room was vast, cool, and filled with the quiet rustle of paper.

A wide arched window looked out over the floating islands of the academy, where white cranes glided through the morning mist and distant waterfalls tumbled into the blue sky.

Ye Hongyan sat behind a long desk carved from ancient sandalwood, her white and pink robes pooling gracefully around her chair.

Her slender, pale fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes filled with deep, simmering annoyance as she stared at the heavy parchment spread out before her.

The paper was stamped with the golden crest of the Ye Clan, written in the rigid, demanding brushstrokes of a man— her father— who believed his word was the law.

And the content of that letter is how he is ’requesting’ her to return home to introduce Haoran to them during a banquet a month from now.

The letter was full of grand, pompous phrasing, hiding thin greed behind polite family greetings.

The old man had heard from her mother about she was the woman of Shen Haoran, the young master of the Shen Clan, and he wanted to meet them.

That man hadn’t contacted her for hundreds of years, not caring about her life or death and focus all his attention on that adopted son of his.

In fact, he was even riding on her coattails to bring more investment from various families and increase his wealth and power.

Now, smelling the immense power and wealth tied to the Shen bloodline, her father wanted to drag the young master to their estate like a prized hunting hawk, using her position as his woman to build a bridge between their families.

She scoffed, tossing the letter onto the polished wood with a flick of her wrist.

The idea made her stomach churn. Her father had never cared for her beyond what her cultivation and reputation could buy for the clan’s standing.

To use Haoran, a youth whose terrifying depth and cold arrogance she had come to respect and love, as a bargaining chip to fatten her father’s pockets was something she found utterly pathetic.

It would certainly damage what she believed to be ’pure love’ between the two of them.

Not to mention she doesn’t really want to return.

The Ye Family compound was a place she avoided like a stagnant, foul swamp.

The cold glances from the clan elders who hated her for that incident a thousand years ago, the sickening flattery from the branch relatives who wanted to use her reputation, and the suffocating air of their empty pride always left a bad taste in her mouth.

If she had her way, she wouldn’t step foot on their soil for another three hundred years.

Unfortunately, her mother’s 11th Cycle is coming up within a month as well.

She leaned back against the tall chair, letting out a slow, heavy breath through her teeth.

Cycle is like a mortal birthday, but is celebrated once every 100 years.

A mortal turned a year older with every winter, but for those who walked the path of cultivation, a hundred years was merely a single turn of the wheel.

Her mother, a gentle woman who had spent her life trapped inside the quiet back courtyards of the Ye Clan, was reaching her eleven-hundredth year.

Despite her hatred for her father and the clan’s greedy elders, her mother was one of the few people she still carried genuine warmth for.

To miss such a milestone would be a deep slap to the only woman who had ever shown her real kindness in that cold house.

”That old bastard definitely planned this...” She sighed, oh well, she’ll just make this trip quick.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk, counting the days in her head.

She didn’t need to stay for the endless banquets, the boring speeches from the branch leaders, or the gift-giving ceremonies.

A few hours to greet her mother, hand over a box of nourishing spirit teas, and walk away would be more than enough.

If Haoran agreed to come with her, she’d also just introduce him and then dip, no need for him to sit alone and get along with her father or for her father to introduce him to various families just so he can brag of being an in-laws with the Shen Clan.

Shen Haoran would definitely get mad if he did that, after all, it would feel like he was being treated as a pet to be paraded around to please country lords.

Well, that’s only if he agreed, and that’s a big if.

If he had no interest in visiting the Ye Family, she wouldn’t force him for a second.

But if he found some small amusement in seeing the grand estates of the Ye Clan, or if he needed a quiet excuse to step out of the academy, she would bring him along, let him stand before the greedy elders for a brief moment, and watch their smug smiles freeze when they realized just what kind of monster they were trying to reel in.

After all, Haoran does not take kindly for people trying to use him.

Once the formalities were completed, she would turn on her heel and leave the city behind before the sun went down.

No reason to disgust herself any further by being in the presence of her own father.

With a cold, dismissive flick of her finger, a tiny spark of scarlet flame leaped from her nail, landing squarely on the golden crest of the parchment.

The heavy letter curled, blackened, and turned into a pile of fine gray ash upon the desk in a matter of seconds.

Ye Hongyan stood up, smoothed down the front of her red robes, and turned toward the arched doorway, ready to see what the young scion of the Shen Clan was up to, and if he would like to come along.

• ~ ~ •

Author’s Note: