Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Driven by fear and a desperate thirst for power, Queen Xiulan did something she hadn’t planned. With a surge of her own demonic energy, she propelled herself forward. Before anyone, even Mo Tianyang, could react, she slammed into Wang Jian, her body acting as a battering ram.

The combined force of their movement sent Wang Jian crashing into Mo Tianyang’s back, the dagger finally finding its mark. A sickening crunch echoed as the blade, empowered by Queen Xiulan’s demonic energy and the holy attribute, pierced through the King’s back, finding purchase near his heart.

A gasp escaped Mo Tianyang’s lips, his eyes widening in betrayal as he looked down at his wife, the woman he had trusted with his life. He roared in pain and fury, but the damage was done. The holy energy coursed through his veins, sapping his strength with agonizing speed.

Queen Xiulan, her heart pounding against her ribs, watched as the King’s once powerful form crumpled to the ground. A wave of nausea washed over her, but she pushed it down. This wasn’t the time for emotions.

Wang Jian seized the opportunity. With a swift movement, he channeled a secret technique, collecting the crimson essence that spilled from Mo Tianyang’s heart into a small vial. The essence, potent and pulsating with energy, solidified in the vial, a tangible symbol of the King’s demise.

“It’s done,” Wang Jian whispered, his voice laced with a hint of triumph as he presented the vial to Queen Xiulan. “The final ingredient for your ascension.”

Queen Xiulan took the vial, the coolness of the glass a stark contrast to the heat rising within her. A wave of emotions – guilt, relief, and a chilling sense of satisfaction – washed over her.

“Now,” Wang Jian continued, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint, “we can finally write that little declaration, can’t we?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “The one where King Mo Tianyang, in his infinite wisdom, declares you, his beloved Queen Xiulan, as his rightful successor.”

A cruel smile played on his lips. “And of course, it shall be signed not with ink, but with his very own blood essence.”

Queen Xiulan stared at the vial, the crimson bead glowing within. It was a macabre trophy, a gruesome testament to her ambition and her betrayal. But it was also the key to her future, the seal on her pact with the enigmatic musician.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm, the emptiness replaced by a steely determination. “Let’s write that will.”

A dark pact had been sealed, the melody of rebellion had reached a crescendo, and the Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe was poised for a change of leadership. Queen Xiulan, bathed in the blood of her husband and fueled by a thirst for power, stood on the precipice of becoming the new ruler.

The battlefield echoed with the final screams of resistance. Mo Tianyang’s most loyal advisor, the fearsome General Wu, lay still, his obsidian skin marred by multiple wounds. The remaining loyalist Devil soldiers, caught in a pincer attack by Queen Xiulan’s forces and the allied families, met a similar fate.

Blood painted the ground crimson, a macabre testament to the night’s events. Queen Xiulan, her white robes stained with crimson splashes, observed the carnage with a detached air. A cold knot of guilt twisted in her stomach, but it was overshadowed by a sense of grim satisfaction.

Suddenly, a figure materialized beside her. It was Wang Jian, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “It’s done,” he announced, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your loyal subjects have fulfilled their duty with utmost efficiency.”

Queen Xiulan nodded curtly. “Good. Now,” she said, her voice firm, “let’s finish what we started.”

A smile, devoid of warmth, spread across Wang Jian’s face. “Of course, my dear.” Together, they walked to a makeshift command tent, its silk walls offering a temporary refuge from the macabre scene outside.

Inside, Wang Jian wasted no time. He retrieved a scroll and writing brush, his movements practiced and efficient. “Let’s see,” he muttered, tapping his chin with the brush. “Hereby, I, Mo Tianyang, King of the Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe, in sound mind and body…”

He paused, his gaze flickering to Queen Xiulan. “Do you want some flowery language about his devotion to the tribe? His undying love for his Queen?”

Queen Xiulan shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Straightforward is best. No need for embellishments.”

Wang Jian chuckled, a dry sound devoid of humor. He continued writing, his hand moving with practiced ease. “…declare my beloved wife, Queen Xiulan, as my rightful successor. Recognizing her wisdom, strength, and unwavering loyalty, I entrust the future of the Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe to her capable hands.”

He finished with a flourish, then dipped the brush into the vial containing Mo Tianyang’s blood essence. The crimson liquid stained the bristles a dark red. With a deep breath, he pressed the brush against the scroll, leaving a bloody handprint beside the signature.

“There,” Wang Jian said, handing the scroll to Queen Xiulan. “A testament to your legitimacy, sealed by the King’s own blood.”

Queen Xiulan unfurled the scroll, her eyes scanning the words. A sense of power surged through her, a heady mix of triumph and trepidation. The path to the throne was stained in blood, but it was a path she had chosen.

“Now,” Wang Jian said, his voice sharp, “let’s return to the palace. It’s time for your coronation.”

Queen Xiulan knew what awaited them. The entire palace would be in chaos, the news of Mo Tianyang’s death a devastating blow. Rebellions and power struggles were inevitable. Some within the tribe would find her ascent suspicious, whispers of foul play echoing through the halls.

“We need a narrative,” Wang Jian continued, his voice laced with a cunning edge. “A story that will unite the tribe instead of fracturing it.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell them about a heroic sacrifice. Tell them that King Mo Tianyang and his loyal guards perished in a glorious battle against the Green Jade Devil Dragon’s Tribe, sworn enemies of our people.”

The Green Jade Devil Dragon’s Tribe was a powerful rival, a constant threat to their borders. Pinning the blame on them would divert attention from the internal struggle and forge a temporary sense of unity. “They will grieve their fallen leader,” Wang Jian said, “but their anger will be directed at the Green Jade horde. It will give you precious time to consolidate your power.”

Queen Xiulan considered his plan. It was audacious, manipulative, but undeniably effective. “It will work,” she admitted, a spark of admiration igniting in her eyes.

Wang Jian grinned, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Of course, my dear. Now, let’s claim your crown.”

Together, they stepped out of the tent, ready to face the storm they had unleashed. Queen Xiulan, the woman who had bathed in her husband’s blood and embraced a web of lies, was about to ascend the throne.

Queen Xiulan, her white robes now cleaned and adorned with royal sashes, returned to the palace amidst a sea of bewildered faces. The news of King Mo Tianyang’s death had spread like wildfire, leaving a trail of confusion and fear in its wake.

Taking a deep breath, she mounted the grand staircase leading to the central courtyard, the heart of the palace. There, before a gathering of Devil Marquises, Generals, and countless spectators, she unfolded the scroll.

With a firm voice that resonated through the courtyard, she began, “My loyal subjects, I stand before you today with a heavy heart. Our beloved King Mo Tianyang…” Her voice faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.

“…fell in a valiant battle against the encroaching Green Jade Devil Dragon’s Tribe,” she continued, weaving the narrative she had discussed with Wang Jian. “He sacrificed his life to protect our borders, a true hero to the very end.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The Green Jade Devil Dragon’s Tribe was a hated rival, and Mo Tianyang’s supposed heroic demise sparked a wave of anger and grief. This was exactly the reaction Queen Xiulan and Wang Jian had anticipated.

She then unfurled the scroll, her voice gaining strength. “Before his noble sacrifice, King Mo Tianyang, in his wisdom, penned a declaration.” Her eyes swept over the assembled crowd, searching for any sign of dissent.

Finding none, she continued, “He recognized my dedication to the tribe and named me, Queen Xiulan, as his rightful successor.”

A murmur arose, a mix of surprise and hesitant acceptance. It was unexpected, but the will, adorned with Mo Tianyang’s blood essence, served as a powerful symbol of legitimacy.

Queen Xiulan pressed on, “I know this is a time of grief and confusion. But let us honor King Mo Tianyang’s wishes and unite against the true enemy – the Green Jade horde!”

Her words resonated with the crowd. Their anger at the Green Jade tribe overshadowed any doubts they might have harbored. Chants of “Long live Queen Xiulan! Vengeance for King Mo Tianyang!” erupted through the courtyard.

The next three days were a whirlwind of activity. Ancient coronation rituals were performed. Elaborate dances depicting victories over past enemies were presented. Spellcasters formed intricate array formations that bathed the palace in pulsating light, a symbolic cleansing and a declaration of renewed power.

Through it all, Queen Xiulan endured. She addressed dignitaries, received oaths of loyalty, and offered solemn pronouncements, all while masking her exhaustion under a facade of regal composure.

Finally, after the last ceremony concluded, she retreated to her chambers, her body aching, her mind numb. As she entered, she expected solitude, a chance to finally unwind.

But she was not alone. Wang Jian stood in the center of the room, a sly grin etched on his face. His eyes, devoid of any concern for her fatigue, held a dark glint.

“My dear Queen,” he drawled, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. Today, he wasn’t a strategist, he was a predator circling his prey.

Without a word, he advanced towards her. Queen Xiulan, caught off guard by his audaciousness, froze. The power she had just claimed seemed to evaporate as a wave of primal fear washed over her.

He reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he unfastened the clasp on her ceremonial robe. The fabric fell away, revealing the shimmering undergarments beneath.

“The Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe now has a powerful ruler,” he murmured, his voice turning rough. “But tonight, it’s just you and me, my Queen.”

The rest of the night unfolded in a whirlwind of passion and dominance. Her royal garments, symbols of her newfound authority, lay discarded on the floor, replaced by the vulnerability of her bare skin.

Wang Jian took control, his touch leaving no room for resistance. He plundered her body with a primal hunger, a stark contrast to the calculated seduction they had shared before.

Queen Xiulan, exhausted but strangely exhilarated, surrendered to his demands. The line between the woman wielding power and the woman succumbing to desire blurred, creating a heady mix of pleasure and guilt.

As dawn broke, casting a pale light into the chamber, Wang Jian finally collapsed beside her, his chest heaving with exertion. Queen Xiulan lay there, her body aching, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her.

She was the Queen of the Blue Moon Eclipse Devil Tribe, a ruler burdened with responsibility. Yet, in the arms of this enigmatic musician, she was simply a woman, bound by a passion that defied logic and fueled by a dangerous bargain.

New novel chapters are published on fr(e)ewebnov(e)l.com