Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

The sky roared with the sound of grinding iron and shattered reality.

Thirty six pillars of radiant, golden crimson light continued to hammer down from the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, screaming through the chaotic rift where the two worlds tore at each other.

Millions of rusted blades from the Sword Emperor’s domain surged upward in a screaming, metallic storm, meeting the descending beams in blinding flashes of raw destruction.

The air was thick with the stench of ozone, molten stone, and vaporized metal.

Every millisecond, tens of thousands of swords turned into hot ash, yet the old monster’s ancient intent forced thousands more into the breach, holding the apocalyptic barrage in a trembling stalemate.

As the clash was happening, Haoran immediately turned towards Wei Zhingyi, and his figure blurred into a streak of pale gold and purple light, skipping across the smoking, cratered boundary between the two realms with effortless grace.

The shockwaves of colliding laws rippled across his path, tearing deep trenches into the earth, but the hem of his black and gold robes remained untouched, parting the violent wind like a ship cutting through calm water.

”Damn it! Stop right there!” Sword Emperor was about to stop him when a beam shot towards him, blocking him.

The old man’s eyes burned with frantic, bloodshot fury.

With only his left hand remaining, he tried to wrench his focus away from the floating fortress, sweeping his arm forward to send a concentrated wave of iron blades toward Haoran’s back.

BOOM!

Before his intent could even manifest, one of the massive runic arrays circling the base of the Hanging Gardens adjusted its angle and a concentrated lance of pure celestial fire cleaved through the smoke, plunging directly into the earth barely three feet in front of the Sword Emperor’s boots!

The blast gouged a crater fifty kilometers deep, throwing up a blinding curtain of molten basalt and concussive shockwaves that forced the old swordsman backward, tearing his gaze away from the ground.

Haoran landed softly beside the crater where Wei Zhingyi lay pinned.

The proud Palace Mistress was barely breathing.

Dozens of rusted broadswords, scimitars, and serrated iron spikes were driven through her shoulders, her thighs, and her nine silver tails, pinning her mangled frame to the crimson bedrock like a broken beast.

Dark blood had pooled beneath her body, staining her torn lilac robes into a soggy, blackened mess.

Her eyes were half-closed, glazed with cold exhaustion, her chest rising in faint, rattling shivers.

”This is the second time we meet face to face today, and each time you needed saving.” Haoran shook his head and flicked his wrist.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

With that casual, dismissive wave of his pale hand, a wave of dark, invisible force swept across the dirt, and the dozens of heavy iron blades driven through her flesh were torn violently out of the stone!

They flew backward in a spinning cloud of rust and blood, whistling through the smoke before shattering into fine metallic sand against the surrounding rocks.

Wei Zhingyi let out a choked, trembling gasp as the iron left her meat and bone.

Fresh blood welled from the puncture wounds, but before she could collapse back into the dirt, Haoran bent down and took out a golden pill.

The pill was the size of a longan fruit, carved from pure ancestral dragon marrow and nine-turn resurrection grass.

It burned with a soft, warm solar halo that smelled of sweet lotus petals and fresh morning dew, cutting clean through the foul stench of rust and burning iron.

”This is the second pill you owe me.”

Haoran did not wait for her to part her cracked lips politely as his fingers immediately clamped firmly around her delicate, blood-smeared jaw, forcing her teeth apart, and pushed the golden sphere straight past her tongue.

”Swallow.”

His voice was flat, commanding, and left no room for hesitation.

Wei Zhingyi swallowed, and instantly, she felt rejuvenated.

BOOM!

The golden pill dissolve and instantly detonated inside her stomach like a gentle, warm sun!

A boundless, golden flood of ancient vitality surged through her shattered meridians with miraculous speed.

The agonizing chill that had settled into her bones was burned away in half a heartbeat.

Her cracked ribs snapped back into alignment with crisp, clean sounds; the gaping puncture wounds across her shoulders and thighs knitted together, fresh pink skin growing over the scars before the blood could even dry.

Even her nine magnificent silver tails, scorched black and limp in the mud, flared with soft, radiant moonlight as the scorched fur fell away, replaced by pure, silky silver that fanned out behind her with renewed majesty.

The heavy fog drowning her sea of consciousness was swept clean, her spiritual foundation stabilizing at a terrifying pace.

Her silver eyelashes slowly fluttered open, her parted lips ready to utter words of deep gratitude to the young scion who had pulled her out of the grave twice in a single night.

Instead, her breath froze in her throat.

Haoran stepped into the puddle of red mud, slipped his right arm under the curve of her knees, and wrapped his left arm firmly around her slender back, lifting her light, fragile frame clean off the dirt in a single, smooth motion!

Wei Zhingyi’s breath hitched, her body stiffening like carved ice.

Her pale cheeks, usually cool and aloof from a thousand years of cultivating the Emotionless Dao, flushed with a sudden, violent scarlet that spread all the way to the tips of her silver fox ears!

For ten centuries, she had ruled the Immortal Coupling Palace as an untouchable goddess.

Men had groveled at her feet, offered kingdoms for a glance, and died in droves without ever brushing the hem of her sleeve.

She had never allowed a single male to touch her fingers, let alone hold her against his chest, wrapped in his arms like a fragile mortal bride!

Her nine tails curled tightly against his ribs in sheer, flustered confusion, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air, not knowing whether to push him away or hold on.

She didn’t have time to react as Haoran already flew back towards his domain.

WHOOSH!

The wind screamed in her ears.

Haoran didn’t care about the turmoil in her heart, nor did he look down at the blushing face pressed against his black and gold silk.

He kicked off the cracked bedrock, turning into a streak of golden light that vaulted over the burning chasm, crossing the spatial seam and retreating straight into the boundless, living paradise of his inner world!

”Stop!”

The Sword Emperor saw the fox slipping away into the lush emerald horizon, taking the relic with her.

His dao heart ruptured with mad, unhinged desperation!

He didn’t care about the falling light from the Hanging Gardens anymore; he didn’t care that his right arm was gone and his blood was draining like water!

He needed to get her!

”Give me back my treasure!”

With a hysterical roar that shook the firmament, he kicked off the ruined graveyard of swords, driving his entire remaining cultivation into a frantic, crazed sprint!

He broke through the falling curtain of golden fire, his battered brown robes smoking and catching flames, tearing across the boundary line like a wild, rabid beast chasing its stolen kill!

Haoran landed softly upon the fresh green grass of his world, turning around slowly with the fox woman still nestled securely in his arms.

Haoran smirked, waiting for Sword Emperor to enter his domain.

He stood tall beneath the towering canopy of an ancient spirit tree, his golden hair catching the pristine, crystal-clear breeze of his own cosmos.

His golden third eye remained slightly open, watching the old rogue cross the threshold with cold, patient mockery.

Then, the instant Sword Emperor crossed that boundary...

The air shifted.

The emerald grass did not rustle.

The roaring sapphire rivers fell into absolute, deafening stillness.

The clouds froze in the golden sky, and the very fabric of reality snapped shut behind the old man’s heels like the jaws of an ancient iron trap!

”I declare, leaving my domain is now forbidden!” Haoran declared.

His voice was neither loud nor strained. It rolled through the vast mountains and valleys of his inner world not as sound, but as an undeniable, absolute truth that rewrote the fundamental structure of the cosmos!

Sword Emperor was startled for a moment, feeling space itself locking him in this domain.

The old man tried to halt his momentum, his boots skidding across the lush loam, tearing up clumps of green grass and black dirt.

He whipped his head around, his eyes darting toward the seam behind him where his leaden domain of rusted swords had been.

It was gone.

The boundary had vanished entirely, and in its place stood an impenetrable, seamless wall of cosmic order.

When he reached out with his divine sense to probe the void, his mind hit a boundary so dense, so immutable, that it felt as if space itself had been cast from solid, unbreakable primordial stone.

There were no seams.

There were no spatial currents to ride.

Even if he burned his life-essence to tear open a rift, there was no outside void to escape to; this space existed solely within the will of its master!

”You... you can create conceptual laws in this realm!?” Sword Emperor was shocked.

His voice cracked into a hoarse, ragged screech, his remaining hand trembling violently as he stared at the golden haired youth.

To create conceptual laws!

That was not the simple spatial manipulation of an expert!

That was the divine authority of a World Creator—the terrifying ability to speak words that instantly became the natural, unbendable rules of reality!

In an ordinary domain, a cultivator could only enhance their own attributes or suppress an enemy’s dao with heavy pressure.

But to declare a concept—to state that an action was fundamentally forbidden and have the universe bend its knee to enforce it—was a power that defied all common sense!

Doesn’t that mean he’s invincible?!

Cold, suffocating terror clamped down around the Sword Emperor’s throat.

If a man could dictate what was allowed and what was forbidden within his own world, then entering this place was not a battle; it was walking into the private slaughterhouse of an omnipotent god!

Haoran smiled at him, his golden eyes glowing with chilling, playful cruelty.

”Why don’t I use another one for you to see?”

The youth did not put Wei Zhingyi down, he simply adjusted his left arm, holding her securely against his chest, while his right arm lifted casually toward the trembling old man.

”I declare, any cultivation base stronger than mine is forbidden!”

HUUUUUUMMMMM!

The words resonated through the leaves of the ancient spirit trees, echoing from the crystal mountain peaks like the toll of a cosmic funeral bell!

The world answered!

And Sword Emperor instantly felt his power degrading!

”NO! WHAT IS THIS?! STOP!”

The old master wailed in sheer, unadulterated horror as an invisible, celestial guillotine dropped down upon his spiritual sea!

It did not attack his physical body, but instead attacked the very concept of his cultivation!

The three thousand years of bitter years training, the millions of liters of blood he had shed, the grand dao insights he had carved into his soul—everything began to rot, unravel, and wash away like sand before a tidal wave!

From Supreme Emperor to Peak Heavenly Saint...

BOOM!

The vast, sky cleaving aura around his body collapsed inward!

The supreme sword intent that had made entire provinces tremble vanished like smoke!

...Earthly Saint...

His bones creaked, shrinking by an inch as the divine marrow inside his spine cooled into common bone!

His skin grew dull, the ancient resilience of an emperor stripping away like dead bark!

...Profound Saint...

His dantian shrank violently, the vast, roaring ocean of spiritual power evaporating until it was nothing more than a shallow, muddy pond!

His breath turned shallow and ragged, his knees shaking under the weight of his own plain brown robes!

...Until he’s no more than a mere 1st stage Spirit Ascension realm!

Thud.

The Sword Emperor fell to both knees on the soft green grass, his single hand clawing frantically at his chest, tears of blood leaking from his lone eye.

His breathing was a pathetic, wheezing gasp.

His cultivation—the summit of power he had dedicated his entire existence to reaching—had been forcefully dragged down, pinned, and locked at the exact same realm as the youth standing before him!

He could feel the cold wind on his skin, he could feel the ache in his joints, he was weak, he was fragile, he was nothing more than an ordinary greenhorn who had barely taken his first steps into the clouds!

”This power...”

The old man looked up through the strands of his matted grey hair, staring at the golden haired youth with eyes full of broken, shuddering madness.

”Is this something a brat like him can have?!”

How could the universe allow such a monster to exist?!

How could the heavens grant the absolute authority of a primordial creator to a youth who had not even seen a century?!

Against this kind of power, realms, treasures, battle experience, and centuries of bitter cultivation were nothing more than meaningless jokes written in the dirt!

Haoran looked down upon the trembling, kneeling figure with unblinking golden eyes.

There was no pride on his face, no rush of triumph, and no heat of battle. There was only the cold, bored stillness of an emperor looking down at an ant that had finally realized the foot was descending upon its shell.

Haoran smirked, his lips parting as he looked the broken emperor in the eye:

”In the outside world, there is heaven you look up to. But inside my domain, there is only me.

Haoran put down Wei Zhingyi and slowly walked towards the Sword Emperor, looking down at his kneeling form.

He lowered his head, smiling at him.

”...so, Sword Emperor, humble yourself and exalt me.”