Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

The heavy stone door of the maintenance tunnel ground shut behind them with a final, dusty thud.

Absolute darkness swallowed them. The air here was stale, smelling of damp earth, ancient roots, and centuries of neglect. It was a suffocating silence, cut off from the world above.

Wang Jian didn’t hesitate. He raised his right hand. A small, concentrated sphere of Stellar Qi ignited in his palm.

It cast a cold, silvery light, throwing long, dancing shadows against the wet, moss-slicked walls of the narrow passage.

The tunnel was tight. Ideally suited for maintenance workers of the past, not for two cultivators moving in stealth. It forced them into a single file.

”You know the way, Sect Mistress,” Wang Jian said, his voice low, echoing slightly in the cramped space. ”You lead.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua nodded. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, black night-walking suit that Wang Jian had insisted upon. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, outlining every devastating curve of her mature figure—the massive swell of her breasts, the narrow nip of her waist, and the wide, luscious flare of her hips.

She stepped forward into the gloom.

Wang Jian followed. Closely. Very closely.

He stepped right up behind her, his chest brushing against her back.

”It’s dark,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. ” The floor is uneven. You might stumble.”

He placed his hands firmly on her curvaceous buttocks. He didn’t just rest them there; he gripped them, his fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh through the black fabric.

”I will... support you,” he murmured, a dark amusement in his tone. ”Make sure you don’t fall.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua shivered. The sensation of his large, warm hands claiming her ass in this dark, forbidden tunnel sent a jolt of electricity straight to her groin.

”Thank you... Jian,” she whispered back, her voice breathless. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned back slightly, pressing her buttocks firmly into his hands, enjoying the possessive, steadying touch.

She began to walk, guiding him deeper. ”This way. The main passage was collapsed a century ago to hide it. We must take the smaller offshoot... here.”

As they walked, Wang Jian’s hands didn’t stay still.

He slid them up from her buttocks, tracing the line of her hips, his thumbs rubbing firm circles into her soft skin. He gripped her slim, boneless waist, pulling her back against him with every step.

He leaned in, pressing his chest firmly against her back. He let his hard dick grind against her ass crack, a rhythmic friction that matched their walking pace.

”This is quite... stimulating, Lianhua,” he whispered, biting her neck gently. ”Sneaking into your own sect like this, dressed to kill, while I hold you like this.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua flushed. The friction was maddening. ”Please, Jian... let us focus,” she murmured weakly.

But her body betrayed her. She pushed back against his groin, a soft, breathless moan escaping her lips as he hit a sensitive spot.

”Focus on this,” he growled, squeezing her waist.

They moved deeper. The tunnel network was complex, a relic from the sect’s founding, designed to manage the spiritual water flow. It was a maze.

Wang Jian’s Verdant Eternal Spring Essence began to hum in his veins. It vibrated, reacting to something ahead.

”We’re close,” he whispered. ”The life energy... it’s astounding. I can feel it pulsing.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua stopped at a dead end. It looked like a solid wall of packed earth and thick, gnarled roots.

”This is it,” she said softly. ”The original irrigation outlet. It should emerge... right at the base of the Spirit-Gathering Tree.”

”Stand back,” Wang Jian commanded.

He stepped past her, brushing his body against hers. He didn’t use a flashy spell that might trigger alarms.

He placed his hand gently on the packed earth. He channeled his Stellar Qi, vibrating it at a high frequency.

He didn’t blast the dirt; he disintegrated it. He subtly vibrated the soil particles until they loosened and fell away like sand.

He dissolved a small opening, just large enough for them to crawl through, the sound masked by the low, ambient hum of the garden’s arrays above.

He turned to her. ”After you, my dear.”

But before she could move, he reached out and gave her ass one last, hard, possessive squeeze.

They crawled out from beneath the massive, tangled roots, emerging into the heart of the core medicinal garden.

The change was instant. The air here was thick, heavy with spiritual energy. It was so dense it felt almost liquid against the skin. The scent of a thousand rare, potent herbs hit them—a dizzying, intoxicating perfume.

They were in a small clearing. And looming over them was the prize.

The Spirit-Gathering Tree.

It wasn’t massive like a world tree, but it was ancient. Its bark looked like rippling, solid green jade. Its leaves shimmered with a soft, ethereal white light, pulsing like a heartbeat. It was the source of the garden’s potency, the anchor of the ley lines.

”Halt! Who goes there?”

A rough voice shattered the silence.

Two figures stepped out from behind the jade trunk. They weren’t wearing the flashy robes of Fu Yan’s new elite guard. They were old, grizzled men in worn deacon robes.

Sect Mistress Lianhua gasped. ”Elder Pao? Elder Xi?” she whispered in shock. ”They... they were neutral! They retired years ago! Fu Yan must have forced them to guard this place!”

The two elders blinked, their eyes widening as they saw the intruders. ”Sect Mistress?!” Elder Pao gasped. ”You... you’re alive?!”

Before they could shout, before they could sound an alarm or ask another question, Wang Jian acted.

He was a blur of motion.

”Asura’s Phantom Step.”

He vanished from his spot. He became a flicker of shadow, a ghost in the garden.

He appeared behind Elder Pao.

THWACK.

A single, precise chop to the back of the neck with the edge of his hand. He infused a paralyzing jolt of Stellar Qi directly into the nerve cluster.

Elder Pao’s eyes rolled back. He collapsed without a sound.

Elder Xi tried to turn, to summon his Qi.

THWACK.

Wang Jian was already there. He struck Elder Xi with the same ruthless precision. The second deacon crumbled, completely unconscious but unharmed.

It took less than a second.

Sect Mistress Lianhua stared, her jaw slack. ”You... you’re only in the Foundation Establishment realm. They were, too. Late stage! But... the speed... the precision... it was flawless. They didn’t even react.”

Wang Jian stood over the bodies, adjusting his cuffs. He smirked at her. ”I have my secrets, Lianhua. And I don’t like wasting time.”

He dragged the two unconscious bodies into the tunnel they had just exited. ”Sleep well, old men.”

He turned back to the tree.

He approached it slowly. He could feel the immense, pure life and wood essence radiating from it. It called to him.

’This...’ his inner thoughts buzzed with greed. ’This is it. This energy could evolve my Verdant Essence to a whole new level. And the sap... if I refine it... the ”Celestial Void Ocular Arts”... Spirit Eyes that can see through illusions and track energy flows...’

He wanted to sit down and absorb it right there.

”We can’t absorb it here,” he said aloud, his voice tight with controlled greed. ”It would take days. And the energy fluctuation would alert the entire sect.”

He looked at the massive root system.

”We’re taking the whole thing,” he declared. ”Roots, dirt, and all.”

”The whole tree?” Sect Mistress Lianhua asked, stunned. ”But... the roots go deep.”

”Not for long.”

Wang Jian plunged his hands deep into the earth at the base of the jade trunk. His arms sank in up to the elbows.

He channelled his Stellar Qi. He didn’t use it to destroy. He used it to isolate. He created a perfect, spherical blade of force underground, slicing through the surrounding earth, severing the feeder roots cleanly while keeping the main root ball intact.

He gritted his teeth, muscles bulging.

”UP!”

With a mighty heave, channelled through his cultivation, he pulled.

The ground groaned. The twenty-foot-tall, glowing jade tree shuddered.

Then, with a wet, sucking sound, it came free. He lifted the entire tree, along with a massive ball of glowing, enriched spirit soil, straight out of the ground.

He immediately shoved it into his high-grade spatial storage pouch—the one with the vast interior he had prepared.

WOOSH.

The tree vanished.

Instantly, the air in the garden changed. The spiritual energy plummeted. The oppressive density evaporated.

”It’s done,” Wang Jian said, dusting off his hands.

”Now,” Wang Jian said, looking around the beautifully tended garden. ”We finish the job.”

The garden, once a paradise, now looked... dull. Without the central tree, the lesser herbs were already beginning to droop, sensing the loss of their monarch.

Sect Mistress Lianhua looked at the rows of rare plants. Her eyes hardened. ”He wanted this garden,” she whispered, her voice cold. ”He killed my elders for this. He will not have it.”

”Exactly,” Wang Jian said. ”We leave him with nothing, not even dust.”

They moved through the garden like locusts.

Sect Mistress Lianhua pointed out the targets. ”The Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng... there. The Azure Spirit Lotus in the pond... take them.”

Wang Jian moved fast. He ripped them out. He didn’t harvest them carefully. He took them roots and all, throwing them into his pouch.

”The Nine-Leaf Soul Grass,” Sect Mistress Lianhua pointed.

”Got it.”

They didn’t just take the mature plants. They took the seedlings. They took the sprouts.

Wang Jian even knelt down and scraped up the top layer of the valuable, spirit-infused soil from the most potent flower beds.

”Leave nothing,” he commanded. ”I want this place to look like a desert.”

Within twenty minutes, the core garden was a wasteland of overturned earth and empty holes.

”This isn’t enough,” Wang Jian said, looking at the devastation. ”He needs a... parting gift. A message.”

He reached into his pouch and retrieved a handful of sinister, thin black needles. He had looted them from the Silent Puppet Guild operatives during the ambush.

He pulled out a small vial of clear liquid—the delayed-action paralytic poison Liu Ruyan had brewed.

He coated the needles carefully.

He went to the massive, gaping hole where the Spirit-Gathering Tree had been.

He embedded the needles just under the surface of the loose soil around the rim of the hole.

”The first person to investigate this hole,” he explained with a cruel grin, ”the first one who sends their spiritual sense into the dirt to see where the roots went... they’ll trigger these. The needles will shoot out.”

He chuckled. ”They won’t kill. But they’ll paralyze the investigator for at least three days. It will cause... confusion.”

He wasn’t done. He jumped down into the hole.

At the very bottom, in the compressed earth, he used his finger to carve a single, complex rune. It wasn’t a random mark. It was a clumsy imitation of a Puppetry Control Sigil—the kind used by the Silent Puppet Guild to bind spirits.

”When Fu Yan finds his garden destroyed,” Wang Jian said, climbing out, ”when he finds his deacons unconscious but alive... and then he finds this rune... and those needles...”

He smirked. ”He won’t just be angry. He’ll be suspicious. He’ll think the Silent Puppet Guild tried to steal the tree for themselves. He’ll think they betrayed him to steal the ultimate wood-attribute treasure for their puppet cores.”

”Even the Azure Sword Clan,” he added, ”will think the Puppet Guild double-crossed them to hoard the wealth.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua watched him work, her eyes shining with a dark, vengeful admiration. ”You... you are truly wicked, Jian. You think of everything.”

She couldn’t help herself. She pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss right there in the middle of the ruined garden.

Wang Jian returned the kiss, his hands instantly sliding under her tight black stealth suit. He cupped her magnificent breasts, squeezing the firm flesh that was compressed under the fabric. They felt even larger, heavier in his hands.

”We need to go,” he murmured against her lips, though his hands didn’t stop kneading her chest. ”Scripture Hall is next.”

”Wait,” Sect Mistress Lianhua said, pulling away, breathless. ”One last stop here. The cold-storage caves.”

”Caves?”

”The true treasures,” she whispered.

She led him to a sheer cliff face at the back of the garden. It looked solid, covered in vines.

She produced a token—the Sect Master’s Token. She pressed it against a specific rock.

The air shimmered. A powerful illusion formation dissolved, revealing a hidden cave entrance sealed with ice.

”Even Fu Yan has no idea this exists,” she said. ”This was the Founder’s personal reserve.”

They entered.

The cold was intense, biting to the bone. The walls of the cave were coated in thick, blue spiritual ice.

But it was what was inside that made Wang Jian’s eyes bulge.

Shelves carved from ice. And on them, preserved in blocks of crystal-clear Amber-Ice, were herbs.

Thousands of them.

But they were small.

”These...” Wang Jian frowned. ”They’re seedlings.”

”They are Divine-Grade seedlings,” Sect Mistress Lianhua corrected him reverently. ”Phoenix Blood Vines. Dragon-Marrow Grass. Heaven-Bridging Flowers. They take thousands of years to mature. The Founder planted them, but they grow so slowly... they are barely sprouts.”

”But the potential...” she whispered. ”If they could be matured... a single leaf would be worth a city.”

Wang Jian’s heart hammered. ’Divine Grade? And they’re seedlings? That’s... that’s perfect!’

He looked at his hands. ’My Verdant Eternal Spring Essence. It accelerates growth. If I plant these in my space... if I feed them my essence... I can grow them. I can have Divine Herbs in years, not millennia.’

”We take them,” he said, his voice hoarse with greed. ”All of them.”

They looted the cave. They took every block of Amber-Ice.

Wang Jian didn’t stop there. He looked at the walls.

”This ice...” he muttered. ”It’s Thousand-Year Spirit Ice. It’s filled with Ice Essence.”

He took out a tool and began scraping the walls, collecting chunks of the glowing blue ice. ”This will be perfect for refining a Yin-attribute spiritual weapon.”

He cleared the cave completely.

He turned to Sect Mistress Lianhua. She was shivering slightly in the cold, her nipples hard and visible through her black suit.

He grinned. ”You’re cold.”

”A... a little,” she admitted.

He pulled her close. He didn’t offer her a robe. He reached into her suit, his warm hands grabbing her freezing, ice-cold breasts.

”Let me warm you up,” he whispered.

He leaned down and buried his face in her chest. He sucked on her cold, hard nipples, biting them gently, his hot mouth contrasting wildly with her cold skin.

”Ah! Jian!” she moaned, the sensation shocking and electrifying.

He fondled her massive globes, warming them with his friction, his mouth devouring her flesh. He treated her like his prize, his reward for a job well done.

”Good girl,” he murmured against her skin.