Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

570 Queen Xiulan Kills Her Husband

Queen Xiulan, through cleverly manipulated communications, would convince King Mo Tianyang to send a minimal force led by trusted advisors, advisors who had been subtly brought over to her side in the last couple of days.

These advisors, primarily those known for their pragmatism and focus on the well-being of the tribe, had grown increasingly disillusioned with King Mo Tianyang’s recent decisions.

Queen Xiulan, through private conversations and carefully crafted suggestions, had subtly highlighted the potential benefits of a more collaborative leadership style.

She emphasized the importance of listening to diverse perspectives within the tribe’s leadership, a sentiment that resonated with these advisors who often felt their voices were unheard by the King.

Furthermore, Queen Xiulan subtly appealed to their sense of personal ambition.

She hinted at potential advancements and increased influence within the tribe’s hierarchy under a new, more receptive ruler.

This strategy wasn’t about blatant promises or threats; it was about planting seeds of doubt and subtly swaying their loyalty towards a future Queen who valued their expertise.

Simultaneously, the allied devil families and sects would launch a surprise attack, overwhelming the King’s forces with superior numbers. The key was to stage a chaotic battle, obscuring the true source of the attack and casting doubt on the King’s ability to predict and counter such internal threats.

“Let the rumors fly,” Wang Jian said, a cruel smile on his face. “Whisperings of a betrayal, of sabotage within the King’s own ranks.”

Queen Xiulan, playing her part to perfection, would feign helplessness, expressing shock and dismay at the attack. She would even suggest sending reinforcements, further isolating the King from his loyal guards and advisors.

The trap was ingenious. It was a test of strength disguised as a weakness, a calculated risk that could turn the tide of public opinion against the King.

King Mo Tianyang, known for his intellect and formidable strength, wouldn’t be easily deceived. However, his downfall wouldn’t be due to lack of intelligence. It would be his unwavering trust in his advisors, a trust Queen Xiulan and Wang Jian would exploit with ruthless efficiency.

News of the attack arrived a week later, carried by a frantic messenger. King Mo Tianyang, his face grim, announced his intention to personally lead a contingent to reinforce the outpost.

“Let me accompany you, Your Majesty,” Queen Xiulan implored, her voice laced with concern. “My presence might bolster the morale of your troops.”

The King, blinded by his trust and unaware of the web of deceit woven around him, reluctantly agreed. Queen Xiulan’s heart hammered in her chest – a thrill of anticipation mingled with a pang of guilt.

The journey to the outpost was a blur. King Mo Tianyang, focused on strategy and oblivious to the impending betrayal, didn’t suspect a thing. Upon arriving, however, the chaotic battlefield confirmed the worst.

The King’s advisors, caught off guard by the overwhelming attack, fought with desperate valor. Yet, their numbers were dwindling.

“Reinforcements! We need reinforcements!” King Mo Tianyang roared, frustration and fury twisting his features.

But the reinforcements, their loyalty to Queen Xiulan already swayed, turned a blind eye to the King’s commands. The chaos deepened, creating a perfect opportunity for the final act.

From the shadows emerged a figure, cloaked in darkness. In a flash, a crimson blade plunged into King Mo Tianyang’s back, a scream choked in his throat. His loyal advisors, distracted by the battle, were too late to react.

The King, betrayed by those he trusted, crumpled to the ground, a look of disbelief etched on his face. Before his life could fully fade, Queen Xiulan knelt beside him, her face a mask of grief.

“Your Majesty!” she cried, tears welling in her eyes.

Queen Xiulan’s feigned grief evaporated as quickly as morning dew. Her heart pounded not with sorrow, but with a cold thrill of victory. But the celebration was short-lived.

A gasp escaped her lips as a crimson light erupted from Mo Tianyang’s body. The King, wounded but not defeated, unleashed a surge of demonic energy, his Royal Blood activating and closing the fatal gash in his back. His fiery red hair blazed even brighter, his eyes burning with a ferocious rage.

“Who dares?!” he roared, a sound that shook the very foundations of the battlefield. He spun around, his gaze falling on the figure cloaked in darkness.

The figure, clad in a sleek black outfit that masked its features, met his gaze unflinchingly. A cruel smile played on its lips, even as it countered the king’s attack with surprising skill.

Despite his initial shock, Mo Tianyang’s power as a cultivator of the Divine Ascension Realm was undeniable. Each blow from his fist carried enough power to shatter mountains, each burst of demonic energy could incinerate an army. Yet, the assassin, a peak Divine Harmony Realm cultivator, danced around his attacks with incredible agility.

This unexpected agility held a key – the holy attribute injected during the assassination attempt. It acted like a poison to Mo Tianyang’s demonic constitution, sapping his strength with each passing moment. While the wound itself was healed, the King’s movements grew sluggish, his attacks less potent.

This imbalance in power attracted the attention of the battlefield. Devil warriors from both sides, momentarily forgetting their own fights, turned their eyes towards the epic duel unfolding between Mo Tianyang and the mysterious figure.

A gasp rippled through the crowd as they recognized the King’s struggle. The rumors of betrayal, once whispered conspiratorially, materialized before their very eyes.

Suddenly, the battle lines shifted. Devil families and sects, previously allied with Queen Xiulan, saw an opportunity to exploit the situation. Cultivators emerged from the shadows, their blades gleaming with unholy light, flanking the King and bombarding him with coordinated attacks.

Mo Tianyang, already weakened by the holy element, roared in defiance. With each swing of his fist, a wave of demonic energy surged forward, sending opponents flying. Yet, the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed him.

Queen Xiulan watched the scene unfold with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. The trap had worked, but not entirely as planned. The King’s unexpected resilience had thrown a wrench in the plan. Now, she had to ensure his demise, quickly.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the crowd, a towering brute with obsidian skin and glowing red eyes. It was General Wu, Mo Tianyang’s most loyal advisor, his face contorted in fury.

“Traitors!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the very earth. “You will pay for this!”

General Wu was a force to be reckoned with. He wielded a colossal warhammer, capable of crushing mountains with a single swing. His arrival on the battlefield instilled a flicker of hope within Mo Tianyang’s dwindling strength.

However, the allied forces weren’t about to let a single warrior change the tide of the battle. A horde of cultivators, led by a shadowy figure radiating dark energy, intercepted General Wu before he could reach the King.

A brutal duel erupted – the brute strength of General Wu clashing against the dark magic of the allied leader. The ground trembled, buildings crumbled, and the battlefield transformed into a chaotic dance of death.

Meanwhile, the assault on Mo Tianyang continued. He fought like a cornered beast, unleashing his fury upon his attackers. But the holy element coursing through his veins steadily drained his power.

As he parried a blow from one attacker, a searing pain erupted in his shoulder. He looked down to see a blade, imbued with holy energy, lodged deep in his flesh. A guttural roar escaped his lips as he tore the blade free, the wound sizzling as it tried to heal.

With each passing moment, the King’s struggle became more desperate. His attacks became weaker, his movements slower. He stood amidst a whirlwind of blades and demonic energies, a lone warrior battling against an insurmountable tide.

Queen Xiulan, her eyes glued to the battle, felt a flicker of doubt. Had they underestimated the King’s tenacity? Would he, against all odds, emerge victorious?

Just as despair threatened to engulf her, a figure emerged from the shadows, landing silently behind the increasingly weakened Mo Tianyang. It was Wang Jian, his eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory glint.

In his hand, he held a crimson dagger, pulsing with a malevolent aura. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, the dagger arcing through the air in a deadly arc. The dagger, infused with the same holy element that weakened Mo Tianyang, pierced through his back, its tip finding his heart.

Queen Xiulan’s heart lurched as Wang Jian materialized behind the King, dagger flashing with deadly intent. Her momentary flicker of doubt vanished, replaced by a cold resolve. This was it. The culmination of their treacherous plan.

But then, something unexpected happened. The crimson dagger, infused with holy energy, met resistance against Mo Tianyang’s back. It sparked, failing to pierce the King’s hardened skin. A roar of defiance erupted from the wounded King, shaking the battlefield.

Desperation clawed at Queen Xiulan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had underestimated Mo Tianyang’s resilience, his very bloodline offering him a shield against the holy weapon. Her carefully orchestrated plan, built upon the King’s weakness, was crumbling before her eyes.

A primal fear, cold and sharp, twisted in her gut. If Mo Tianyang emerged victorious, her fate wouldn’t be pretty. Visions of a brutal execution flashed through her mind, fueling her panic.

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