Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

The month that followed in the secluded valley was a blur of intense heat, overflowing spiritual energy, and the relentless pursuit of power.

The alchemy chamber within the cave dwelling became the beating heart of their preparation. It ran hot day and night, the fires never dying down. The air was thick with the heavy, medicinal scent of rare herbs and the metallic tang of refining minerals.

Mu Lianhua and Liu Ruyan worked in grueling shifts. They were a master and disciple team again, but the dynamic had shifted fundamentally. They were no longer just preserving the legacy of the Crimson Pill Sect; they were forging weapons for their Master’s war.

Mu Lianhua’s expertise was truly undeniable. Despite her fall from grace, her hands retained the muscle memory of centuries. She refined batches of pills with a speed and purity that left even the talented Liu Ruyan in awe.

Her primary focus was a specific, ambitious project.

Wang Jian had provided the recipe, pieced together from the looted legacies and his own ancient knowledge, but it was Mu Lianhua who recognized it.

”This is a variation of the ’Scarlet Dragon-Blood Foundation Pill’,” she had whispered, holding the formula with trembling hands. ”It is a Fourth Grade pill, theoretically. But its effects on the Foundation Establishment realm are overbearing. It forces a breakthrough by violently expanding the dantian and meridians.”

”Can you make it?” Wang Jian had asked.

”I know the theory,” she admitted. ”But the main ingredient... it requires the blood and core of a beast with a dragon lineage. Not a true dragon, of course, but something with a thick bloodline. It is rare.”

Wang Jian had grinned. ”Leave the ingredients to me.”

The hunt began the next day.

Wang Jian took his wife, Yue Lingshan, and his blade, Chen Ying, into the deepest, most dangerous parts of the nearby beast forests. They were hunting apex predators.

They tracked a pack of Crimson-Scale Monitors—massive, lizard-like beasts that breathed fire and possessed a trace, however faint, of the ancient flood dragon bloodline.

The battle was a showcase of their growing synergy.

Yue Lingshan stood on a ridge, her robes fluttering in the wind. She cast out dozens of array flags, her fingers dancing.

”’Earthen Bind Formation’, activate!” she commanded.

Gravity intensified tenfold in the clearing below. The massive lizards, fast as lightning a moment before, were suddenly slammed into the mud, roaring in confusion and rage.

”Now, Senior Sister Chen!” Lingshan called out.

Chen Ying moved. She was a blur of grey steel. Her sword, ’Winter’s Sorrow’, sang a high, lethal note. She didn’t fight with flash; she fought with efficiency. She darted between the trapped, sluggish beasts.

Slash. Slash. Slash.

Precision strikes to the throat, the eyes, the soft underbelly scales. Blood sprayed, hot and sizzling.

Wang Jian watched, nodding in approval, before stepping in to finish the alpha male, a peak Foundation Establishment beast. He didn’t use a weapon. He used his Stellar Qi, forming a claw of dark energy that ripped the beast’s heart out in one motion.

They returned with the corpses, the blood, and the cores.

Back in the alchemy chamber, the real work began.

Mu Lianhua processed the bloody materials. The stench of iron and sulfur filled the room. She worked the cauldron, her face beaded with sweat, her focus absolute.

Wang Jian visited often. He called it ”supervision.”

The chamber was sweltering from the Earth Fire. Mu Lianhua was bent over the cauldron, controlling the volatile energies of the dragon blood.

Wang Jian stepped up behind her.

”The Yang energy in the room is fluctuating,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. ”The dragon blood is too aggressive. It needs... balancing.”

Mu Lianhua didn’t look up, her hands forming seals. ”Master... I can control it...”

”No,” he said, pressing his body against her back. ”You need a direct infusion of pure Yang to stabilize the pill. It improves the quality.”

It was a lie. A blatant, ridiculous lie. She knew he could just inject Qi with his hand if he wanted to help. She knew he just wanted to use her.

But she accepted it.

”Yes, Master,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

She widened her stance slightly, bracing herself against the cauldron’s stone rim.

Wang Jian hiked up her robes. He didn’t bother undressing fully. He freed himself and thrust into her from behind, burying himself deep in her wet, welcoming heat.

”Ah!” she gasped, her concentration wavering for a split second before she clamped down, forcing herself to focus on the pill even as he began to pound into her.

He grabbed her massive breasts, kneading them brutally, his thumbs circling her erect nipples through the fabric of her dress.

”Focus, Elder Lianhua,” he taunted, biting her neck. ”If the pill fails, it’s because you were too distracted by your own pleasure.”

She bit her lip until it bled. She timed her breathing to his thrusts. The pleasure was intense, shameful, and overwhelming. The friction of his body, the heat of the fire, the smell of the beast blood... it was a primal, heady mix.

He fucked her relentlessly while she worked, using her body as a playground while she poured her soul into the refinement.

When the pills finally condensed, glowing with a deep, blood-red light, Wang Jian roared and filled her with his seed, his release coinciding with the completion of the alchemy.

”Perfect,” he growled, pulling out and admiring the pills. ”See? I told you it helps.”

Mu Lianhua slumped against the cauldron, panting, sweat dripping from her nose, her legs shaking. She looked at the pills, then at him, her eyes filled with a hopeless devotion.

With the Scarlet Dragon-Blood Foundation Pills complete, the power-leveling began.

Yue Lingshan took her share. She went into seclusion in the array room. The pill’s energy was violent, like a raging river, tearing through her barriers. But her foundation was solid.

She emerged three days later. Her aura had expanded, becoming calmer, deeper. She had broken through to the Middle Stage of Foundation Establishment.

She spent the rest of the month huddled with Wang Jian, enhancing her knowledge.

”This formation,” Wang Jian explained, pointing to a diagram from the Azure Sword Clan’s loot. ”It relies on rigid geometry. If you introduce a chaotic variable here... and here... the whole thing collapses.”

Lingshan’s eyes shone. ”I see! It’s like introducing a virus into the flow!”

Chen Ying took her pills to the training grounds. She sparred with her two Thunderclap Wolves, which were growing larger and fiercer by the day thanks to the beast cores Wang Jian provided.

She fought them both at once, her movements a dance of death. The pill burned in her gut, fueling her stamina.

She broke through to the Middle Stage in the middle of a spar, her sword intent suddenly sharpening, slicing a training dummy in half from twenty paces away without touching it. She became a more lethal warrior, her ice-cold aura now carrying a heavy, oppressive weight.

Liu Ruyan, aided by her Master’s direct guidance and the pills, also broke through. Her Blood Spirit Flame grew denser, darker. It responded to her emotions now. And as she spent more nights in Wang Jian’s bed, being used and molded by him, her flame seemed to gain a seductive, dangerous edge.

Even the five married maids were not forgotten. They reached the Peak of Qi Condensation. They moved with a new confidence, their bodies strong and healthy, forming a formidable unit of guards for the dwelling’s inner sanctum.

And Wang Jian?

He consumed the highest-grade pills like they were candy. His Stellar Demonic Meridian Scripture devoured the dragon energy, assimilating it effortlessly.

His cultivation at the Peak of the Middle Stage solidified, becoming as hard as diamond. He was inching towards the Late Stage, his power growing denser, more terrifyingly potent with every passing day.

But power required money. And war was expensive.

Wang Jian began his trading network.

Mu Lianhua, wearing her elegant, high-collared robes that hid the marks of his ownership, acted as his face. She quietly contacted the remaining Elders of the Mystic Peak Sect—Elder Huo of the Fire Peak and Elder Bing of the Ice Peak.

They met in secret, neutral locations.

”Sect Mistress Mu,” Elder Huo said, bowing respectfully. ”We heard the rumors... the fall of your sect. It is a tragedy.”

”It is,” Mu Lianhua said, her voice steady, playing the part of the fallen leader trying to survive. ”But I still have my skills. And I have... inventory.”

She revealed the high-grade healing pills and combat stimulators Wang Jian had her refine.

”These...” Elder Bing’s eyes widened. ”These are superior grade. Better than anything our Alchemy Hall is producing.”

”I need resources,” Mu Lianhua said simply. ”Sect contribution points. Rare materials. Spirit stones. My... entourage... needs to survive.”

The Elders were grateful. They assumed she was desperate, trying to buy protection and a place in their sect. They had no idea they were funding the war chest of the man who planned to eventually dominate them all.

They traded eagerly. Wang Jian’s wealth ballooned.

By the end of the month, the cave dwelling was no longer just a home. It was a fortress, a treasury, and a barracks. They had a mountain of pills, talismans, and spirit stones.

”We are ready,” Wang Jian said, looking at his assembled forces. ”We are powered up. We are equipped. And we are funded.”

While the main household prepared, Wang Jian turned his attention to his shadow force.

He visited the separate dwelling he had rented for Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue.

They knelt before him as he entered. They were dressed in the revealing, dancer-like combat gear he had designed for them—silks that allowed for movement but distracted the eye, hidden sheaths for daggers and needles.

”Rise,” he commanded.

He walked among them, inspecting them. ”Rewards and punishment,” he murmured.

He checked their cultivation. They had been diligent. The fear of his displeasure, and the addiction to his approval, drove them hard.

”Good,” he said. ”You have not been lazy.”

He rewarded them. He spent the afternoon with them, taking them one by one, then together. It wasn’t gentle. It was a reaffirmation of ownership. He gave them the specialized pills.

Then, the training began.

He threw a stack of manuals onto the floor. ”These are combat techniques looted from your own sect’s library. Techniques for assassins. Spies. Saboteurs. You are not just alchemists anymore. You are not just spies. In this war, you will be my covert strike team.”

He forced them to spar. He was ruthless.

When Bai Xue hesitated to strike Su Ning, Wang Jian stepped in. He grabbed Bai Xue by the throat, lifting her off her feet, slamming her against the wall.

”Hesitation is death!” he roared in her face. ”Do you want to die? Do you want me to find a new toy?”

”No, Master! Please!” she choked out.

”Then fight!”

He pointed out every weakness. He used his superior strength to dominate them physically and mentally, breaking down their inhibitions about violence.

He taught them the Seduction Arts.

”You are beautiful,” he told them. ”That is a weapon. On the battlefield, a man who is looking at your tits is a man who isn’t looking at your knife.”

”Distract the enemy,” he commanded, making Qiu Yun pose seductively while holding a dagger behind her back. ”Feign weakness. Cry. Beg. Make them lower their guard. Then strike.”

With the help of the pills and the intense training, they too broke through to the Middle Stage of Foundation Establishment.

He tested their loyalty constantly. He commanded them to do degrading things—licking his boots, crawling through mud, servicing him while he ignored them and read a scroll. They obeyed without question.

”You are my Shadow Flowers,” he named them. ”Beautiful. Toxic. Silent.”

He explained their role. ”When we move to the battlefield, you will integrate with the main group’s movements, but you will operate independently. You are the flankers. The looters.”

”Your goal in this war is not glory,” he said, gripping Su Ning’s chin. ”It is loot. Corpses. Storage bags. Secret manuals. You kill, you strip them, and you bring it all to me. Do you understand?”

”Yes, Master!”

He reinforced the safety protocols. He handed out fresh escape talismans. ”You are valuable assets. I have invested time and resources in you. Do not die for pride. If you are overwhelmed, run.”

The shared training, the violence, and the sexual servitude deepened their bond to him. They viewed him not just as a master, but as a god-king, a terrifying figure who held their lives and their pleasure in his hands.

He inspected them one last time. They were deadly. They were beautiful. And they were completely his.

”Pack your things,” he ordered. ”We move out in two days.”

The women looked at each other, their eyes shining with a dark excitement. They were eager to prove themselves. To kill for him.

The eve of departure arrived. The air in the main hall of the cave dwelling was electric.

The entire group—Wang Jian, Yue Lingshan, Mu Lianhua (wearing a mask to hide her identity), Chen Ying, and Liu Ruyan—gathered around the large stone table. The Shadow Flowers were prepping the supplies outside.

Wang Jian laid out a large, detailed map of the battlefield.

”Here,” he said, pointing to a jagged scar on the terrain map. ”Shadow-Gorge Pass.”

”It is a chaotic area,” Chen Ying noted, recognizing the terrain. ”Heavy fighting. Lots of confusion. The formations there are unstable.”

”Exactly,” Wang Jian grinned. ”Perfect for us.”

”We are not joining the main army,” he explained. ”We are not fodder. We are a roaming strike force. We target isolated Azure Sword Clan units. Patrols. Supply caravans. Scouts.”

He made a slashing motion with his hand. ”We hit them. We strip them. And we vanish before their reinforcements arrive.”

Then, his expression turned serious. ”However... there is one rule.”

He pointed to a sector marked in gold ink. ”If we see golden flames... if we hear the name Ye Fan... we retreat. Immediately.”

”The Undefeatable Monster,” Mu Lianhua murmured behind her mask.

”Yes,” Wang Jian said. ”He is a variable we cannot control yet. We are not ready for him. We avoid his sector completely. Let the other cannon fodder wear him down.”

He assigned roles.

”Elder Lianhua,” he said, nodding to her. ”You wear the mask at all times. Your face is too recognizable. You are our heavy hitter. But use your full Core Formation power only if absolutely necessary. If you flare your aura too bright, you will draw enemy Core Formation elders to us. We want to be flies, not dragons.”

”Understood,” she said.

”Lingshan,” he turned to his wife. ”You control the battlefield. Traps. Barriers. Confusion arrays. Keep them pinned down.”

”I will,” she promised.

”Ruyan, you provide fire support and alchemy on the move. Ying’er, you are assassination and cleanup. You take the stragglers.”

”And you, Jian?” Lingshan asked.

”I will lead,” he said, his eyes burning. ”I will take the vanguard. I will break their lines.”

He raised a cup of spirit wine. ”To victory. And to profit.”

”To victory!” they chorused.

That night was a frenzy of activity. Wang Jian visited each woman.

He went to Yue Lingshan first. He gave her a tender, loving night, reaffirming their bond as husband and wife, making her feel cherished and safe before the chaos of war.

Then he went to Chen Ying. It was a rough, commanding session in the dark, fueled by the anticipation of violence. He left her breathless and sharp.

He visited the maids, ensuring they were calm and ready to guard the home front.

Finally, he ended the night with Mu Lianhua.

He entered her room. She was waiting for him, wearing the mask he had given her. It added a strange, kinky allure to her naked form.

He took her with a slow, intense passion. He looked into her eyes through the mask holes. He reminded her, with every thrust, of who owned her soul, who had restored her power, who led her now.

”You are my weapon, Lianhua,” he whispered.

”I am yours,” she gasped.

The morning sun rose, blood-red over the horizon.

They stood outside the cave, dressed in battle gear. Wang Jian wore dark, flexible armor. The women were similarly equipped.

Wang Jian was about to summon the Serpent Scale Soarer—no, that was too small.

He summoned the massive, luxury flying boat that had belonged to Mu Lianhua. It was huge, with multiple decks and rooms, repainted and modified to look like a generic merchant vessel.

”Board,” he commanded.

They walked up the ramp. Wang Jian stood at the prow, Yue Lingshan by his side.

The artifact hummed to life. It shot into the sky, banking towards the south, towards the smoke and fire on the horizon.

The vulture had come to the battlefield.