Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

The modified iron-wood spirit vessel cut through the turbulent cloud layers of the Myriad Reefs Sea Domain like a phantom shark, its hull glistening with the damp sheen of the ocean mist. Three weeks had passed since they departed Red Coral Island, three weeks of relentless travel across a seascape that grew increasingly hostile and chaotic. Below them, the azure waters had darkened to a bruising indigo, churning with the violent currents of the ”Black-Tide Region,” a lawless stretch of ocean that served as a buffer zone between the territories of the Righteous Alliance and the Abyssal Trench Coalition.

Wang Jian stood at the prow, his hands clasped behind his back, his dark robes whipping violently in the gale-force winds. His gaze was fixed on the eastern horizon, where storm clouds gathered like the bruised knuckles of a giant. He didn’t need to explain the mission to Yue Lingshan; she stood beside him, her expression resolute, checking the readings on a compass array plate. She believed they were embarking on a mission of strategic diplomacy—to rescue the stolen property of a potential ally, the Fragrance Melody Sect, and thereby secure a foothold in the complex social web of the archipelago.

To Wang Jian, however, this was a hunt. A hunt for resources, for influence, and for the kind of beauties that could only be found in a sect famous for its arts and allure.

”We are close,” Wang Jian said, his voice carrying over the roar of the wind without him needing to shout. ”The intelligence was precise. The Iron-Blood Hall’s convoy has holed up ahead, waiting for the storm to pass and their reinforcements to arrive.”

Behind him, the three Shadow Flowers—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—stood in attendance. They were dressed in tight-fitting, black aquatic combat leathers that accentuated their lethal curves, their faces masked by thin veils of shadow-silk.

”Master,” Bai Xue stepped forward, her voice respectful but laced with the excitement of impending violence. ”The target ahead is holding a treasure of immense value. When we first intercepted the intelligence, I cross-referenced the descriptions with the ancient texts in the Myriad Ocean Palace’s public archives.”

Wang Jian turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. ”Go on. What exactly makes a piece of wood worth mobilizing a Late Stage Core Formation expert?”

Bai Xue bowed. ”It is not merely wood, Master. It is the Nirvana Phoenix Fire Wood. Legend dictates that in the ancient era, before the seas swallowed the continents, there were islands where True Phoenixes nested. This wood only grows on soil that has been soaked in the Nirvana Blood of three dying Phoenixes simultaneously. It absorbs the essence of rebirth and pure Yang fire for ten thousand years before sprouting.”

Wang Jian’s eyes narrowed, his interest piqued significantly. ”Phoenix blood? That explains the Demonic Sect’s interest.”

”Yes,” Bai Xue continued, her eyes shining. ”For demonic cultivators, it is a bane, but if corrupted, it can be turned into a terrifying weapon of destruction. But for righteous cultivators, especially Alchemists and Fire-attribute practitioners, it is a supreme treasure. It naturally suppresses all evil arts. If refined into a Lifebound Artifact, it grants immunity to most poisons and soul attacks. And...” She paused for effect. ”If the wood still retains its root vitality and is nurtured into a full tree... it bears the Golden-Flame Essence Fruit once every thousand years.”

”Golden-Flame Essence Fruit,” Wang Jian repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a sweet wine.

”A fruit that can purify the spiritual roots of a Fire cultivator, potentially granting them a sentient ’Phoenix Flame’ seed,” Bai Xue explained. ”It creates a flame that burns hotter than magma and possesses the attribute of absolute purification. It would be... invaluable.”

Wang Jian’s heart hammered against his ribs. A flame that rivaled Mu Lianhua’s Azure Sky-Heart Flame? A fruit that could elevate his own fire root to a heavenly level? The greed that flared in his chest was hot and consuming. He glanced at Mu Lianhua, who stood silently by the mast, her aura suppressed but heavy. She nodded confirmation of Bai Xue’s assessment.

At that moment, Wang Jian decided. The Fragrance Melody Sect would get their wood back, certainly. But they wouldn’t be getting all of it. He needed a root. And with his Verdant Eternal Spring Essence, he wouldn’t need a thousand years to see that tree bear fruit.

”Prepare for combat,” Wang Jian ordered, his voice turning cold. ”We take the prize. We leave no witnesses.”

Ahead of them, rising from the churning black waves like a jagged tooth, was their destination. It wasn’t a simple outpost or an atoll. It was the Crimson-Fang Sea Fortress.

It was a natural rock formation that had been hollowed out and fortified with black iron and blood-mixed mortar. Towering walls surrounded the central keep, and the entire island was encased in a shimmering, translucent red barrier—the Blood-River Guardian Formation. Even from this distance, the smell of copper and rot was faint but distinct.

Mu Lianhua stepped forward, her veil fluttering. She extended her spiritual sense, a tidal wave of invisible pressure that washed over the fortress.

”The intelligence is correct,” she reported calmly. ”The formation is active and fully charged. Inside, there are roughly fifty disciples at the Foundation Establishment stage. There are ten Deacons at the Late Foundation Establishment stage. And in the central keep... one Initial Stage Core Formation cultivator. He is injured, likely from the initial theft, but he is recovering.”

”Only one Core Formation expert?” Chen Ying asked, her hand resting on the hilt of her Gale-Severing Frostblade.

”From the information...They are waiting for two more Elders from the main sect,” Wang Jian said. ”We have a window of perhaps two hours before this fortress becomes impregnable. We strike now.”

He looked at Yue Lingshan. ”Wife, can you breach that shell?”

Yue Lingshan studied the red barrier, her eyes analyzing the flow of spiritual energy. She pulled out a set of formation flags she had crafted specifically for breaking water-based defenses. ”It draws power from the ocean currents and corrupts them with blood essence. It is strong, but rigid. If I disrupt the water flow at the base... I can create a momentary gap.”

”Do it,” Wang Jian commanded. ”Everyone else, on my mark. Once the barrier falls, unleash hell.”

The ship dove, accelerating towards the fortress.

As they approached, the alarm gongs on the Crimson-Fang Sea Fortress began to toll—a deep, mournful sound that echoed over the waves.

”Enemy attack!” a magically amplified voice roared from the walls. ”Activate the Blood-Cannon Arrays!”

Dark openings appeared in the fortress walls. Massive, tube-like artifacts crafted from sea-beast bones extended out. They glowed with a sinister crimson light.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Orbs of condensed, corrosive blood-energy were fired at the incoming ship. They screamed through the air like banshees.

”Evasion!” Wang Jian shouted.

The ship, controlled by his will, banked sharply to the left. One orb missed by inches, splashing into the sea and causing the water to boil and hiss, releasing toxic steam. Another clipped the stern shield, shaking the vessel violently.

”Now, Lingshan!”

Yue Lingshan stood at the bow. She threw her array flags into the ocean below. They pierced the water like spears. She performed a complex hand seal, her face pale with concentration.

”Azure-Tide Breaker Array, activate! Invert the flow!”

Deep underwater, the currents shifted violently. The natural flow that fed the Blood-River Guardian Formation was suddenly reversed. The red barrier around the fortress flickered, destabilized by the sudden loss of its foundation.

For a heartbeat, a hole appeared in the dome directly above the main courtyard.

”Go!” Wang Jian roared.

He leaped from the ship, followed instantly by Chen Ying, Liu Ruyan, and the three Shadow Flowers. Mu Lianhua followed a second later, stepping into the air with the grace of a descending goddess.

They fell through the gap in the barrier just as it began to close.

They landed in the main courtyard of the fortress, surrounded by startled Demonic Cultivators clad in armor made of crimson crab-shell.

”Intruders!” a Deacon screamed, raising a serrated saber. ”Kill them! Flay their skins for the Blood Ancestor!”

The battle erupted instantly.

Wang Jian didn’t hold back. He drew his sword, the blade humming with the dark, heavy gravity of his Stellar Qi. He didn’t use a probing attack. He lunged at the nearest group of disciples.

”Stellar Severing Slash!”

A horizontal arc of black starlight swept out. It was heavy, crushing. The demonic disciples raised their blood-shields, but the Stellar Qi ignored the corruptive properties of their defense. It smashed through the shields and the armor behind them. Three disciples were bisected at the waist before they could even finish their incantations.

”Formation! Thousand-Leech Trap!” the lead Deacon shouted.

Ten demonic disciples moved in unison, throwing out handfuls of black seeds. The seeds sprouted instantly in mid-air, turning into writhing, flying leeches the size of arms. They swarmed towards Wang Jian, seeking to drain his blood.

”Filth,” Liu Ruyan spat. She stepped up beside Wang Jian. Her hands ignited with her Blood Spirit Flame.

Unlike normal fire, her flame was predatory. It sensed the blood inside the leeches.

”Burn!”

She unleashed a torrent of crimson fire. The leeches shrieked—a high, piercing sound—as the fire consumed them, turning them to ash in seconds. The flame didn’t stop; it surged forward, latching onto the disciples who had cast the spell.

”My blood! It’s boiling!” one screamed as Liu Ruyan’s fire bypassed his external defenses and ignited his very veins.

On the other flank, Chen Ying was a blur of motion. She had engaged three Deacons simultaneously. Her Seven Absolutes Sword Art had evolved in the chaotic winds of the Myriad Reefs. She didn’t just slash; she manipulated the air pressure.

”Wind Prison,” she whispered.

Invisible currents of air locked the Deacons in place. They struggled, their movements sluggish.

Chen Ying walked past them. Her sword flickered three times.

Click. She sheathed her blade.

A second later, thin red lines appeared on their necks, and their heads slid off.

The Shadow Flowers—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—were moving through the shadows, targeting the support units. Su Ning threw vials of Neuro-Rot Toxin into the enemy ranks, causing defenders to collapse in seizures. Bai Xue appeared behind archers on the walls, her daggers slitting throats before vanishing again.

But the Iron-Blood Hall was not weak. They were veterans of a brutal environment.

”Summon the Blood-Golems!” the Lead Deacon roared.

The ground of the courtyard cracked. Massive figures made of coagulated blood and mud rose up. They were ten feet tall, immune to pain, and radiated a stench that caused dizziness. They lumbered forward, swinging fists that could shatter stone.

One Golem targeted Wang Jian. It swung a massive fist.

Wang Jian didn’t dodge. He channeled his Stellar Qi into his fist, his body glowing with a dark, diamond-like luster.

”Star-Shattering Fist!”

He punched the Golem’s fist.

BOOM!

The impact created a shockwave that cleared the dust from the courtyard. The Golem’s arm exploded into a shower of gore. Wang Jian spun, his leg whipping out in a kick that took the Golem’s head off.

”Is this the best you have?!” Wang Jian taunted, his eyes scanning for the real threat.

Suddenly, a terrifying pressure descended from the central keep. The massive iron doors blasted outward.

A figure floated out. It was an old man, skeletal thin, wearing robes that seemed to be woven from fresh arteries. His skin was the color of a bruise, and his eyes were pools of black ichor.

This was Elder Xue, the Initial Stage Core Formation expert guarding the fortress.

”Who dares?!” Elder Xue shrieked, his voice sounding like tearing paper. ”Who dares attack the Iron-Blood Hall?! You seek death! I will turn your bones into flutes and your blood into wine!”

He raised his withered hands. The blood on the ground from the fallen disciples began to rise, swirling around him.

”Grand Art: Crimson Gore Sphere!”

A massive sphere of compressed, rotating blood formed above him. It radiated a corrosive power that warped the air. He prepared to launch it, to wipe out the intruders in a single strike.

The Foundation Establishment cultivators in Wang Jian’s group felt their blood stagnate under the pressure. This was the might of a Core Formation expert.

But Wang Jian just smirked.

”Now, Elder Mu,” he said quietly.

From the deck of the ship hovering above, Mu Lianhua stepped down.

She didn’t float gently this time. She dropped like a meteor.

As she fell, she released the seal on her cultivation.

BOOM.

The aura of a Late Stage Core Formation expert crashed into the fortress. It was a physical weight, infinitely heavier and purer than Elder Xue’s shaky, injured foundation.

The Crimson Gore Sphere above Elder Xue destabilized instantly, wobbling in the air. Elder Xue’s eyes bulged.

”Late... Late Stage?!” he wheezed, his arrogance evaporating into pure terror. ”How?! Why is a Late Stage Core Formation Realm expert here?!”

Mu Lianhua landed in the center of the courtyard. The stone tiles shattered beneath her feet. She looked imperious, wreathed in blue flames.

”You hold something that does not belong to you,” Mu Lianhua said, her voice cold and echoing with judgment.

She raised her hand. A small, exquisite cauldron appeared in her palm—the Crimson Lotus Cauldron. It spun, growing rapidly until it was the size of a house.

”Crush.”

She threw the cauldron. It flew through the air, trailing blue fire.

Elder Xue screamed, trying to push his Gore Sphere forward to block.

The cauldron smashed into the sphere. The demonic blood magic sizzled and evaporated instantly against the holy heat of the Azure Sky-Heart Flame encasing the cauldron.

The cauldron didn’t stop. It smashed through the sphere and slammed into Elder Xue.

There was a sickening crunch. Elder Xue’s defensive artifacts shattered like glass. He was slammed into the wall of the keep, buried under tons of enchanted metal.

Silence fell over the courtyard. The remaining Demonic disciples stared, their morale shattered. Their Elder, their god, had been swatted like a fly.

”Kill them all,” Wang Jian commanded, breaking the silence. ”Leave no one to send a message.”

The slaughter that followed was methodical. With the Core Formation threat removed and the morale broken, the remaining defenders were sheep before wolves. Wang Jian and his harem moved through the fortress, clearing room after room.

Within thirty minutes, the Crimson-Fang Sea Fortress was a tomb.

Wang Jian stood before the ruined entrance of the central keep, wiping blood from his blade. He looked at Mu Lianhua, who had retrieved her cauldron and returned to her serene, elder-like appearance.

”Clean work,” Wang Jian nodded. ”Now, the prize.”

They entered the keep. It was a labyrinth of torture chambers and blood-refining pools, the stench unbearable. They ignored it all, heading straight for the sensory-shielded vault in the basement.

The vault door was sealed with a complex blood-lock.

”Lingshan,” Wang Jian called out.

Yue Lingshan hurried forward. She studied the lock for a moment, then placed a series of disruption talismans on the key nodes. ”It requires a specific bloodline to open... or we can just overload the logic circuits.”

She activated the talismans. The lock hissed, sparked, and clicked open.

The heavy stone doors ground open.

Inside, the air was surprisingly pure. In the center of the vault, resting on a pedestal of black obsidian, sat a box made of white Spirit-Jade, sealed with suppression talismans.

Wang Jian approached it. He could feel the heat radiating from it even through the box. His own Fire Spiritual Root vibrated in resonance.

He opened the lid.

A golden-red light flooded the room, chasing away the shadows.

Inside lay a piece of wood, roughly three feet long and as thick as a man’s thigh. It didn’t look like dead timber; it looked like solidified sunlight. The bark was textured like feathers, and deep within the grain, liquid fire seemed to flow like sap.

The Nirvana Phoenix Fire Wood.

”It is beautiful,” Liu Ruyan whispered, her alchemist’s soul trembling.

Wang Jian reached out and touched it. A warmth spread up his arm, purifying his Qi, making his Stellar energy spin faster.

”It is real,” Wang Jian confirmed. ”And it is potent.”

He looked at the group. ”Guard the door.”

He took the log out of the box. He summoned his Stellar Qi, shaping it into a thin, infinitely sharp blade.

”We take our fee,” he said.

He carefully examined the log. At the base, there was a section where the wood was knottier, denser—the remnant of the root system. It contained the concentrated essence of life.

With surgical precision, Wang Jian sliced through the wood. The wood resisted, tough as divine metal, but Wang Jian’s Qi was relentless.

Crack.

He severed a six-inch section from the base. It was small compared to the main log, but it pulsed with a heartbeat of its own.

Wang Jian immediately shoved the root section into his spatial ring, transporting it directly into the spirit soil of his portable garden. He could almost feel his Verdant Eternal Spring Essence cheering.

He placed the main log back into the jade box. It still looked impressive, a priceless treasure, even without its root.

”Perfect,” Wang Jian said, closing the lid. ”The Fragrance Melody Sect gets their weapon material. We get our future.”

He turned to the group. ”Strip the vault. Take everything. Spirit stones, ores, manuals. But burn the demonic manuals. We can’t be seen with them.”

They worked quickly. The Iron-Blood Hall had amassed a fortune from raiding, and now it all belonged to Wang Jian.

”We need to stage the scene,” Wang Jian said as they exited the keep. ”Su Ning, use the artifacts you brought from the Blood Shark Hall. Leave a few broken weapons, a few scraps of cloth. Make it look like a rival demonic faction raided them for the treasure.”

Su Ning nodded, efficiently planting the false evidence.

”Elder Mu,” Wang Jian said. ”Scorch the main courtyard. Use your flame to mask the specific sword marks and elemental traces of our techniques. Make it look like a chaotic, high-level brawl.”

Mu Lianhua unleashed a wave of fire, turning the battlefield into a blackened wasteland, obscuring the precise nature of their victory.

They returned to the ship, heavier in wealth and lighter in spirit.

As the ship pulled away from the burning fortress, Wang Jian stood at the stern, watching the smoke rise into the storm clouds.

”Set course for the Isle of Whispering Petals,” he ordered. ”It is time to play the heroes.”

He looked at Mu Lianhua. ”From now on, you suppress your cultivation. You are an Early Stage Core Formation Alchemist. Powerful enough to be respected, but not enough to threaten a Sect Leader in her own home.”

”Understood,” Mu Lianhua said, her aura folding in on itself until she appeared far less terrifying.