Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Years trickled by, then piled up into a small mountain of time. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and before anyone really noticed, years had slipped through their fingers like grains of sand. Seven years. Seven years since Wang Jian had casually strolled into the Western Cosmos and turned the lives of the Heavenly Talents upside down, inside out, and shaken them for good measure.

During those seven years, the Heavenly Talents hadn’t been idle. Raizel’s cryptic animal skin had become an obsession, a burning question mark hanging over their heads. They searched, they inquired, they turned their cosmoses inside out, all while trying to maintain a semblance of control as Wang Jian’s shadow stretched across their domains.

Gorthan found his animal skin first, in a manner that was… well, very Gorthan. Two Dragon Lords, both hulking beasts with scales the color of molten gold and eyes like burning coals, were locked in a territorial dispute over a particularly resource-rich asteroid field. Mediating Dragon Lord squabbles was usually Gorthan’s least favorite pastime, mostly because it involved a lot of roaring, chest-thumping, and very little actual listening.

This particular mediation was going especially badly. The two Dragon Lords, Borakk and Vrogath, were practically breathing fire at each other, their roars shaking the very asteroid they were standing on. Gorthan, who had started the mediation with a semblance of patience, was rapidly losing it.

”Enough!” Gorthan bellowed, his voice a thunderclap that momentarily silenced even the roaring Dragon Lords. ”Are you two overgrown lizards going to settle this like civilized beings, or do I have to knock your scales off and feed them to the cosmic kraken?”

Borakk, a particularly thick-headed specimen with horns like jagged obsidian, puffed out his chest. ”Dragon King Gorthan, with all due respect, Vrogath here is being unreasonable! This asteroid field has been in my family for generations!”

Vrogath, scales shimmering like emeralds, snarled back, snapping his jaws dangerously close to Borakk’s snout. ”Generations of thieving! My ancestors discovered this field! Your family stole it!”

”Stole?!” Borakk roared, fire flickering in his nostrils. ”It was a… a strategic acquisition!”

Gorthan’s patience finally snapped. He roared, a true Dragon King’s roar that dwarfed even Borakk and Vrogath’s pathetic attempts. ”Enough! Both of you are acting like hatchlings fighting over a shiny pebble!” He slammed a clawed fist into the asteroid, the impact sending tremors through the rock, cracking it visibly. ”This mediation is OVER!”

In his rage, Gorthan didn’t just slam the asteroid. He annihilated it. Pure, unadulterated draconic fury poured out of him, shattering the asteroid into dust and debris, scattering the precious resources it contained into the void. Borakk and Vrogath, momentarily stunned into silence, stared at the pulverized asteroid field, then at Gorthan, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.

As the dust settled, something peculiar caught Gorthan’s eye amidst the debris. A dark, leathery patch amidst the grey asteroid dust. He stomped over, his massive claws crunching on the remnants of the asteroid, and nudged the dark patch with a clawed toe. It was… animal skin. And as he picked it up, examining the strange, almost demonic symbols etched into its surface, a jolt of recognition shot through him. It was like Raizel’s. Another piece of the puzzle. Found in the aftermath of his own draconic temper tantrum. Typical.

Altan’s discovery was far less destructive, and far more… mundane, in a bizarre way. It happened during the annual Celestial Nexus Grand Festival, a sprawling, cosmos-wide celebration of light, music, and general celestial merriment. Altan, despite his inner turmoil and the ever-present shadow of Wang Jian, felt obligated to make an appearance. He was, after all, the Starlord of Destiny and the unofficial host of the Nexus.

He wandered through the festival crowds, a radiant figure amidst the throngs of celestial beings, trying to look like he was enjoying himself, while his mind was actually miles away, still wrestling with the Wang Jian problem. He stopped at a stall, mostly out of politeness to the stall vendor, a bubbly little nebula sprite with iridescent wings and a sales pitch that could charm starlight out of a quasar.

”Starlord Altan! Welcome, welcome!” the sprite chirped, fluttering around him excitedly. ”Care to browse my humble wares? Finest cosmic curiosities, artifacts of ancient ages, guaranteed to bring you luck, love, or at least a good conversation starter!”

Altan, only half-listening, glanced at the stall’s offerings. Trinkets, baubles, shimmering dust, and… wait. His eyes snagged on something tucked away in a dusty corner, half-hidden beneath a pile of glowing pebbles. Dark, leathery, covered in strange symbols. Animal skin. Just like Raizel’s.

He pointed at it, a flicker of something akin to hope sparking within him. ”What is that?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharper, more focused.

The sprite, momentarily deflated at being interrupted mid-pitch, fluttered over to examine the object. ”Oh, that old thing? Just some… uh… ancient parchment, I think. Found it in some forgotten temple ruins on a backwater planet. Probably worthless, honestly. You want it? Take it, Starlord, on the house! Consider it a festival gift!” The sprite waved a dismissive hand, already turning back to try and charm another customer.

Altan, barely registering the sprite’s words, picked up the animal skin, his fingers tracing the familiar demonic symbols. Another piece. Just handed to him, amidst the festive chaos, like a cosmic joke. He thanked the bewildered sprite absently, clutching the animal skin tightly, his mind already racing.

Feng Xuan’s discovery was, perhaps unsurprisingly, tied to his… romantic pursuits. Despite the gaping hole Wang Jian had torn in his ego by stealing his wives, Feng Xuan was still Feng Xuan. He was still the young sovereign of the Crimson Flame Belt, still convinced of his own irresistible charm, still very much in need of beautiful women to… soothe his wounded pride, shall we say.

He had heard whispers of a planet in a distant corner of the Eastern Cosmos, a planet famed for its exceptionally beautiful and… compliant women. He decided to pay a visit, naturally, with a retinue of guards and a generous supply of gifts and promises.

The planet’s ruler, a shrewd and ambitious matriarch named Anya, was more than happy to welcome the Crimson Flame Sovereign. She showered him with gifts, feasts, and, of course, presented him with a selection of her most… eligible daughters. Feng Xuan, though his heart still ached for his stolen wives (or at least, his ego did), had to admit, these women were… acceptable. Not quite as stunning as his former beauties, but beautiful enough to serve their purpose.

As he was making his selections, haggling playfully with Anya over dowries and political alliances, something caught his eye. One of the dowry chests, overflowing with jewels and silks, also contained… a dark, leathery scroll, rolled up and tied with a faded crimson ribbon. Animal skin. Demonic symbols. Familiar.

He casually picked it up, unrolling it slightly, his eyes widening as he recognized the markings. Another one. In a dowry chest, offered as part of a package deal for a new batch of wives. The irony was almost… comical. Or maybe, darkly tragic, depending on how you looked at it.

So, through a combination of draconic rage, celestial festival serendipity, and slightly pathetic romantic desperation, the Heavenly Talents had, against all odds, managed to gather three more animal skins. Adding to Raizel’s original find, they now had four. Four pieces of a puzzle they barely understood, but desperately hoped held the key to their salvation, to their potential ascension, to their survival against the looming threat of Wang Jian.

Meanwhile, Wang Jian himself had been… busy. True to his word, he had made surprise appearances in each of the four cosmoses over the past seven years. Not in grand, conquering invasions, but more like… disruptive visits. He’d pop up in the Eastern Cosmos, cause a little chaos, spar with some powerful cultivators (usually humiliating them), leave a few cryptic messages, and then vanish. Then he’d reappear in the Southern Cosmos, perhaps disrupt a major trade route, challenge a local powerhouse, then disappear again. Then the Northern Cosmos, then the Western Cosmos again, a whirlwind of demonic energy and unsettling charm, leaving confusion and fear in his wake.

In each cosmos, he established enclaves, galaxies that became known as ’forbidden zones.’ These weren’t conquered territories in the traditional sense. Wang Jian’s faction simply… moved in, set up shop, and declared these galaxies off-limits to anyone else. And strangely, terrifyingly, they were. The Heavenly Talents, for all their cosmic authority, found that their control over the laws of their respective cosmoses seemed to… weaken, to falter, within these Wang Jian-occupied zones. It was as if these galaxies were subtly… detached, existing within their cosmoses, yet somehow… separate, governed by different rules, different energies. Demonic rules, demonic energies, no doubt.

The Heavenly Talents were furious, of course. Their pride, their authority, their cosmic control, all challenged, all undermined by this demonic interloper. But what could they do? Direct confrontation had proven… unwise, to put it mildly. They could only watch, seethe, and try to contain the damage, ensuring Wang Jian’s factions didn’t spread beyond their self-declared ’forbidden galaxies,’ trying to minimize the disruption to their cosmic order. Fortunately, Wang Jian’s factions, while undeniably unsettling, mostly kept to themselves, engaging in… questionable activities within their zones, but not actively seeking to expand or directly challenge the Heavenly Talents’ rule. Yet.

In the Eastern Cosmos, however, there was one particular piece of ’disruption’ that Feng Xuan found especially… galling. It wasn’t territory, or power, or even direct combat. It was… gossip. Whispers. Rumors that spread like wildfire through the Crimson Flame Belt, carried on the cosmic winds, amplified by malicious tongues and envious hearts. Rumors about Feng Xuan’s former wives. Wang Jian’s wives. Those wives.

The rumors were… unflattering, to say the least. They spoke of the wives’… enthusiastic adaptation to their new master. They spoke of their open declarations of Wang Jian’s… superior… attributes, in… certain areas. They spoke, in excruciating, humiliating detail, about how Feng Xuan, the Crimson Flame Sovereign, paled in comparison to Wang Jian in… that regard. Specifically, in terms of… size. And… satisfaction.

The rumors, embellished and exaggerated with each retelling, became a cosmic joke, a source of endless amusement for Feng Xuan’s rivals, and a source of snickers and thinly veiled mockery even within his own faction. Feng Xuan, the proud, powerful Crimson Flame Sovereign, reduced to… that. His masculinity, his virility, his very essence as a man, publicly ridiculed, dissected, and found wanting. It was a blow to his prestige, to his authority, far more damaging, in some ways, than any direct military defeat could have been. His face burned with shame and rage every time he heard a snicker, a whisper, a veiled comment about ’size’ or ’satisfaction.’ He longed to silence the rumors, to crush the tongues that dared to speak them, but he knew, deep down, that it was futile. The damage was done. Wang Jian’s shadow had not only fallen across the cosmos, but across Feng Xuan’s very manhood.

After seven long years, filled with searching, chaos, and simmering resentment, the four Heavenly Talents finally had what they sought. Four animal skins, each bearing the same unsettling demonic symbols, each whispering promises of unimaginable power, of a path to Godking. It was time. Time to gather again, to piece together the fragments of lost knowledge, to gamble everything on a desperate quest for ascension, for survival, for revenge. The fate of their cosmoses, and perhaps, the fate of the entire cosmic order, hung in the balance.