Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Haoran walked with measured, unhurried steps across the wide courtyard toward the waiting carriage, his pristine black and gold roves drifted softly in the morning draft.

Beside the polished wooden wheel, Ye Hongyan stood watching him approach.

She had changed into a stunning set of deep crimson traveling robes embroidered with subtle golden plum blossoms along the hem.

Her pink hair was held up by a single pin of translucent blood-jade, while her fair skin glowed with quiet vitality beneath the morning sun.

Her arms were folded loosely against her chest, her fingers tapping lightly against her forearm, but the usual sharp impatience she wore in front of the academy elders was nowhere to be seen.

As Haoran closed the distance between them, meeting her pink eyes, a warm, genuine amusement flickered across both their faces.

”Shall we?”

”Mn. Let’s go.”

Haoran stepped up onto the small footstool first, his hand reaching out naturally behind him to catch her slender fingers, guiding her up the wooden steps into the interior.

The heavy purple velvet curtains fell shut behind them, cutting off the chill of the morning sky and sealing them within the cozy warmth of the sandalwood cabin.

The two four-winged white pegasi let out soft, chiming whinnies, spread their wide feathered wings, and kicked off the stone platform, pulling the grand carriage smoothly up into the endless sea of clouds heading toward the distant territories of the Ye Family.

*

*

*

At this moment, in Ye Family.

Far across the vast eastern provinces, within the sprawling, ancient city compound of the Ye Clan, the atmosphere was thick with the weight of centuries of strict rules and family politics.

Yet, in the forgotten eastern corner of the estate—tucked away near the drafty, dilapidated stables where coarse straw and dung smell filled the air—sat a small, isolated courtyard that no servant or elder ever bothered to visit.

Inside the dim, quiet bedroom, the air was surprisingly fresh, smelling of burned sandalwood incense and sweet herbal broth.

On the narrow wooden cot pushed against the paper window, Wei Zhingyi lay motionless.

Her long silver hair was neatly combed now, spread out over the clean linen pillow like a sheet of pure liquid moonlight.

Her lilac dress had been replaced by a soft, loose-fitting cotton gown of plain sky-blue, neatly buttoned up to her collarbone. Thankfully for Ye Fan, he had female servants changed her clothing, otherwise, Wei Zhingyi’s spiritual strength would’ve crushed him already.

Her nine fluffy tails were resting straight along the side of the bed, no longer tangled or caked in brown river mud, their fur combed until it carried a soft, healthy sheen.

Even so, her eyelids remained tightly shut, her breathing shallow and frail, her body still locked in a deep protective coma while her inner channels slowly mended.

Ye Fan stood beside the wooden frame, holding a small, shallow porcelain bowl of warm water in one hand and a clean white cloth in the other.

He set the bowl down on the low wooden stool with extreme care, making sure not to clatter the pottery.

From the inside pocket of his rough grey vest, he pulled out a delicate, glowing bangle carved from translucent green spirit-jade, inlaid with tiny, needle-thin silver wires that pulsed with faint healing warmth.

It was a high-grade treasure he had pulled from his system inventory just that morning—a tool worth thousands of high grade spirit stones on the open market.

Ye Fan stepped closer, his posture straight, his face an open book of gentle care and deep respect.

He reached out with steady fingers, taking Wei Zhingyi’s limp left hand.

He did not squeeze her soft skin, nor did his fingers linger inappropriately on the delicate bones of her wrist.

With practiced, gentlemanly gentleness, he slid the cool stone band over her small hand, settling it securely around her pale wrist.

”This is a Warm Spirit Jade Bangle, senior,” Ye Fan whispered in a soft, soothing cadence, keeping his voice low so it would not startle her dormant senses. ”I bought it from a travelling merchant at the eastern gates. It holds a natural spring of warm vitality. This will help you heal your broken meridians, slowly feeding your channels so the cold frost inside your bones does not bite so deep at night.”

He gently laid her hand back down upon the soft cotton blanket, taking a respectful step backward before pulling up the simple wooden chair to sit beside the cot.

He wrung out the cloth in the warm water, folded it neatly into a small rectangle, and lightly dabbed at a stray smudge of dust near her temple, treating her with the delicate attention one might show to a fragile porcelain statue.

Wei Zhingyi’s spirit floated, looking utterly bored as she observed Ye Fan’s movements.

If he as much as show signs of being inappropriate, then he can say goodbye to his life.

As Ye Fan worked, he began to speak, his voice warm, casual, and steady, filling the lonely room with the quiet hum of his daily life.

”Things have been quite noisy in the clan these past few days, senior,” Ye Fan said, a wry, self-deprecating smile touching his lips as he rinsed the cloth. ”The elders are running around like headless chickens because the matriarch’s eleventh cycle is coming up at the end of the week. Everyone is scrambling to buy ancient ginseng, shiny stones, and rare beast pelts just to earn a nod of approval from the main table.”

He shook his head lightly, looking down at his own calloused hands.

”My adoptive mother spent an hour yesterday lecturing me in the courtyard because my monthly herb gathering quota was five bundles short. She said if I cannot even pull weeds properly, the clan might as well send me to guard the cold iron mines in the northern marshes. She thinks I don’t know what she’s planning. She wants me out of the estate, far away where no one can see me, so her own blood children can divide up the remaining family allowances without an outsider sitting at the edge of the room.”

He paused, offering a soft, bitter chuckle that carried just the right amount of sorrow to evoke pity.

”I don’t really care about the spirit stones, honestly. I never asked to be adopted into a great martial clan. When I was small, before my adopted father brought me through those tall front gates, I used to think that having a big roof over your head meant you would never be cold again. But this house is colder than the winter winds in the wild hills. People smile at you with knives tucked behind their sleeves, and if your bones aren’t made of gold, you are just dust beneath their boots.”

He looked toward the sleeping fox woman, his eyes soft and filled with earnest sincerity.

”That’s why when I saw you lying in the mud by the river, I couldn’t just walk past. In this huge, freezing city, you are the only person who doesn’t look at me with sneering eyes or hidden schemes. Even though you are asleep, just having someone quiet to talk to makes this drafty shed feel like a real home. I will keep bringing the medicine, senior. No matter how much the matriarch scolds me, I will make sure your room stays warm and your tea stays hot.”

Wei Zhingyi’s spirit rolled her eyes.

Ye Fan spent another half an hour gently changing the warm water, sweeping the dust from the wooden floorboards, and tending to the small charcoal brazier in the corner so the temperature in the room remained perfectly even.

Then, Ye Fan noticed that the sun was setting through the paper slats of the window, painting the floorboards in long, pale orange stripes.

He stood up from his chair, smoothed down the front of his grey tunic, and bowed his head respectfully toward the bed.

”The evening patrol will be passing through the outer alleys soon, senior,” he murmured softly. ”I must go to the kitchens to collect my evening bread, or the cooks will throw it to the hounds. Rest well. I will return before midnight to check your pulse.”

He offered a warm, bright smile, full of pure, youthful innocence, and turned to walk out of the room under the watchful eyes of Wei Zhingyi’s spirit.

He pulled the rickety wooden door open, stepped over the raised threshold, and pulled the frame shut behind him with a quiet, careful click.

The moment he walked away from that room, his smile vanished.

His gentle, innocent expression collapsed instantly, replaced by a cold, dark mask of utter irritation.

His jaw clenched hard, a vein bulging along his temple as his boots hit the loose gravel of the overgrown alleyway.

He ducked into the deep shadow of an abandoned brick shed, checking left and right to ensure no servants were nearby, and tapped his finger against the empty air.

A blue screen flickered into existence right before his eyes.

[Target: Wei Zhingyi]

[Identity: Palace Mistress of the Immortal Coupling Palace]

[Cultivation Realm: 9th Stage Heavenly Saint]

[Status: Coma (Physical), Conscious (Spiritual), Meridians Mending (12%)]

[Wei Zhingyi’s Favorability: -45]

Ye Fan’s pupils shrank, his chest heaving with hot, furious anger as he stared at the glowing numbers.

”Minus forty-five?!” he hissed under his breath, his voice trembling with venomous frustration. ”Are you kidding me right now?!”

He gripped his hair with both hands, glaring at the blue glass like he wanted to punch straight through it.

”System! Explain this right now!” he demanded viciously inside his sea of thought. ”I have spent an entire month acting like a dutiful, filial grandson! I washed her muddy tails with warm water! I had female servants changed her bandages three times a day! I fed her thousand-year spirit broth with a tiny porcelain spoon, drop by drop! I bought her jade bangles, I swept her floor, I shared my sob story about being an oppressed orphan to tug at her heartstrings, and I didn’t lay a single dirty finger on her chest even though her dress was torn to shreds! A whole month of perfect, selfless, gentlemanly service, and her favorability barely moved by five miserable points?! Why is it still in the negatives?!”

The blue screen flickered twice, and the flat, mechanical voice of the system responded inside his ears, completely indifferent to his rage.

[Notice to Host: The target’s identity and nature must be properly understood. Target Wei Zhingyi is not an ordinary mortal maiden or an innocent young disciple from a small sect. She is a thousand year old Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox who has cultivated the high-tier Emotionless Dao.]

Lines of dark red text scrolled down beneath the profile.

[In order to refine her soul and temper her sacred techniques, the target has walked the path of the Seven Deadly Sins throughout her long life. She has witnessed the absolute depths of human greed, lust, betrayal, and depravity in the mortal worlds, using the ugliness of mankind as a grindstone to sever her own emotional attachments. For over a millennium, she has looked upon the sweet words, flattering promises, and pathetic sob stories of men as nothing more than cheap theater.]

[Despite being the Palace Mistress of the Immortal Coupling Palace, the target has remained a pure virgin and maintained personal detachment for her entire existence. To her, a mortal youth performing basic chores for thirty days is less significant than a summer ant carrying a leaf across a stone path. Given her profound wariness and ancient temperament, raising her favorability from -50 to -45 in a single month without triggering her lethal soul-strike is already an extraordinary miracle achieved solely through your skills.]

Ye Fan’s teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound.

He couldn’t accept it.

He kicked a loose stone against the brick wall, sending it skittering into the weeds.

Sure, the system rewarded him with pills, talismans, and cultivation boosts every single time her favorability moved up even by half a notch.

The marrow washing elixir had cleared his channels, and the secret breathing arts had pushed him close to the peak of his current realm.

But that wasn’t enough!

He was an ambitious man who had lived two lives!

He didn’t want to spend ten years playing servant to an unconscious fox just to earn a handful of pills!

He wanted her heart!

He wanted her power!

He wanted a 9th Stage Heavenly Saint who would open her eyes, fall madly in love with her heroic savior, and use her terrifying powers to obliterate the matriarch, crush the arrogant elders of the Ye Clan, and hold up the heavens for him so he could walk across the continent like an imperial conqueror!

If she remained cold, if she remained an emotionless stone that took thirty days just to grant five points of favor, how long would he have to wait before he could touch her waist?

Fifty years? A hundred years?! By then, the young masters of the higher academies would have already stepped into the clouds, and he would still be carrying bedpans in a stable!

He still felt unreconciled!

He stared back toward the small, rickety wooden door of the shed.

His eyes flashed with evil light.

A dark, dangerous fire ignited within the depths of his pupils, twisting his usually pleasant face into something ugly and venomous.

Gentlemanly care doesn’t work on you, does it? he thought, his chest tightening as his breathing grew heavy and ragged. You’ve seen all the games of men. You think my tears are cheap. You think my kindness is just a beggar hoping for scraps.

He remembered the items resting quietly in his system inventory.

There were high-tier masking talismans, illusion scrolls, and ancient alchemical concoctions designed to break down the firmest mental defenses.

A cruel, twisted sneer slowly stretched across his lips in the falling darkness.

It seems she wouldn’t be moved unless he took drastic measures.