Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

High above the burning architecture of the Fragrance Melody Sect, the sky had become a domain of death reserved for the gods of the cultivation world. The air pressure here was heavy enough to crush a mortal into paste, distorted by the clashing auras of Core Formation experts. The clouds were stained a violent, bruising purple, reflecting the chaotic energies unleashed by the demonic invaders.

Sect Leader Hua Yimei floated amidst the turbulence, her elegant pink robes whipping violently around her voluptuous form. Her face, usually a picture of serene, mature beauty, was now a mask of icy fury, though beads of sweat marred her perfect forehead. In her hands, she clutched the sect’s supreme treasure, the Nine-String Phoenix Zither. The instrument, recently refined with the Nirvana Phoenix Fire Wood that Wang Jian’s group had ”recovered,” pulsed with a vibrant, golden-red heat that seemed to possess a heartbeat of its own.

Facing her were three nightmares wreathed in crimson vapor.

The Iron-Blood Hall Master, a Late Stage Core Formation cultivator with skin like flayed muscle and eyes burning with predatory greed, hovered in the center. Flanking him were his two Vice-Hall Masters, both at the Middle Stage of the Core Formation Realm. They formed a suffocating triangle of blood-qi, intent on crushing the beautiful sect leader.

”Hua Yimei!” the Iron-Blood Hall Master roared, his voice sounding like wet gravel grinding together. He gestured with a clawed hand, summoning a river of coagulated blood that circled him like a serpent. ”Your resistance is futile! The array is broken! Your elders are dying! Submit now! Become my cauldron, hand over the Phoenix Wood, and I might leave your disciples alive as slaves to warm our beds!”

His eyes locked onto the zither in her hands with naked avarice. He didn’t just want the woman; he wanted the artifact. He knew she had used the Phoenix Fire Wood to refine her lifebound treasure. If he could capture her and the zither, he could use his dark arts to extract the pure Yang essence from the wood—and from her Yin vitality—to cleanse his own marrow and break through to the peak of the Core Formation Realm.

Hua Yimei’s eyes flashed with disgust. ”You seek to defile my sect’s legacy? Dream on, demon! Even if I burn my blood essence, I will drag you to hell with me!”

She shifted her fingers across the zither strings. She didn’t play a melody; she unleashed a weaponized chord.

TWANG!

The sound was not heard by the ears, but felt by the soul. The Phoenix Fire Wood resonance activated. A massive, crescent-shaped wave of sound, manifesting as a blazing phoenix wing, swept out from the instrument. The flames were golden and holy, the bane of all blood arts.

The two Vice-Hall Masters hissed, retreating as their blood-shields sizzled and evaporated under the sonic fire.

”Impressive!” The Iron-Blood Hall Master sneered. ”But your cultivation is too weak!”

He slammed his palms together. ”Blood-Sea Barrier!”

A wall of thick, viscous blood erupted in front of him. The phoenix fire crashed into it, boiling the blood, but the sheer volume of the Hall Master’s cultivation base overwhelmed the attack. The fire sputtered and died.

”Now, come here!” The Hall Master extended a hand. A giant claw made of blood energy materialized, grabbing at Hua Yimei.

She tried to dodge, but the two Vice-Hall Masters had flanked her, launching synchronized attacks of blood needles that restricted her movement. She was trapped.

Just as the giant claw was about to crush her defensive barrier, a cold, mocking voice cut through the roar of battle.

”You bark loudly for a dog.”

The air temperature spiked. A brilliant blue light pierced the crimson clouds.

Mu Lianhua ascended from the chaos below. She didn’t fly with the frantic energy of the battle; she rose steadily, regally, wreathed in the terrifyingly pure Azure Sky-Heart Flame.

She had suppressed her cultivation aura to the Early Stage of the Core Formation Realm, matching Hua Yimei, but her control over her spiritual energy was absolute, betraying the experience of a Peak expert.

”Who?!” The Iron-Blood Hall Master snarled, sensing a threat.

”The one who will bury you,” Mu Lianhua replied calmly.

She raised her right hand. A small, exquisite object spun in her palm—her lifebound treasure, the Crimson Lotus Cauldron.

”Grow.”

The cauldron expanded instantly, becoming the size of a small house. It glowed with complex runes, burning with blue fire.

”Smash.”

With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the massive cauldron. It moved with impossible speed, tearing a vacuum tunnel through the air.

One of the Middle Stage Vice-Hall Masters tried to block it with a defensive artifact—a shield made of bone.

CRACK-BOOM!

The cauldron smashed into him. The bone shield shattered into dust. The Vice-Hall Master screamed as his ribs collapsed, and he was swatted out of the sky, tumbling down towards the sect grounds hundreds of feet below like a broken doll.

The sudden arrival of a second Core Formation expert changed the dynamic instantly.

Below them, the four Fifth Order Spirit Beasts that Wang Jian’s group had unleashed roared in unison. They didn’t stay on the ground.

The Sky-Ripper Eagle shrieked, its wings cutting the air as it engaged an Early Stage Demonic Elder who was trying to flank them.

The Black-Scaled Flood Serpent coiled through the air, swimming through the atmosphere as if it were water, locking onto another Elder.

The Obsidian-Back Earth Bear leaped from a mountain peak, slamming a Demonic Elder into the cliff face, while the Azure-Fin Tidal Python blasted high-pressure water jets at a fourth.

The battlefield in the sky stabilized. It was no longer a slaughter; it was a stalemate.

In the center, it became a two-versus-three fight. Hua Yimei and Mu Lianhua stood back-to-back against the Late Stage Hall Master and his two remaining Vice-Hall Masters (one injured but returning).

”Sister Mu!” Hua Yimei gasped, her eyes shining with relief and awe. ”Your flame... it suppresses their blood arts perfectly!”

”Focus, Sect Leader,” Mu Lianhua said, her voice steady. ”I will handle the defense. You play the song of their demise.”

Mu Lianhua spread her arms. The Azure Sky-Heart Flame expanded, forming a protective lotus of blue fire around them. The corrosive blood mist released by the demons touched the blue fire and vanished with a hiss, purified instantly.

”Kill them both!” the Iron-Blood Hall Master roared, furious that his quick raid had turned into a bogged-down war. ”I will extract the soul of that alchemist and burn it for a hundred years!”

Far below, amidst the burning buildings and the screams of combat, Wang Jian moved through the shadows of the main plaza. He decapitated a distracted Demonic Deacon with a casual flick of his sword, snatching the storage ring from the falling corpse before it hit the ground.

He looked up at the sky, watching the azure and gold flames clash against the crimson tide.

”Good,” he muttered to himself, wiping blood from his cheek. ”Elder Mu is protecting the asset. Hua Yimei is safe, and Mu Lianhua is keeping her true strength hidden enough to remain ’trustworthy’ but powerful enough to be indispensable.”

He glanced around the plaza. The battle on the ground was fierce.

The disciples of the Fragrance Melody Sect were not the helpless flowers the intelligence reports had suggested. Emboldened by the arrival of the spirit beasts and the heroic stand of Wang Jian’s group, they had rallied.

”Formation of the Weeping Willow!” a senior female disciple shouted.

Fifty female disciples, dressed in green, moved in perfect synchronization. They raised bamboo flutes to their lips. A haunting, high-pitched melody pierced the air.

The sound waves materialized as thousands of translucent, green willow branches. They whipped through the air, ignoring physical armor, lashing at the souls of the demonic invaders.

”My head! Stop the noise!” a group of Iron-Blood disciples screamed, dropping their weapons and clutching their ears as blood leaked from their noses. The sonic attack disrupted their Qi flow, causing their blood arts to backlash.

”Illusion of the Thousand Dancers!” another group played on pipas.

Pink mist swirled. The demonic cultivators suddenly saw beautiful, naked women dancing in the smoke. Their eyes glazed over with lust. They lowered their guards, reaching out to grab the illusions.

Slash.

The ”dancers” turned into blades of wind, decapitating the lust-addled men.

”They have teeth,” Wang Jian noted with approval. ”Good. That makes them worth saving.”

However, the tide had not fully turned. The demonic cultivators were veterans, and their numbers were still superior.

And hovering near the edge of the chaotic melee, terrified and indecisive, was Elder Pang.

Elder Pang, the Early Stage Core Formation Guest Elder, was sweating profusely. He held his sword with trembling hands. He had expected a quick surrender or a negotiation. He hadn’t signed up for a war against the Iron-Blood Hall. He was looking for a way out, a way to flee without being cut down by either side.

Suddenly, an Early Stage Demonic Elder—who was currently being harassed by the Sky-Ripper Eagle—spotted Elder Pang hovering uselessly.

Following the script that Su Ning had implanted in the Blood Shark Hall (and by extension, the rumors fed to the Iron-Blood Hall), the Demon Elder assumed Elder Pang was their inside man.

”Elder Pang!” the Demon Elder shouted, his voice magically amplified to boom across the entire battlefield.

The combatants paused for a split second. Hua Yimei, high above, looked down.

”Why are you just standing there?!” the Demon Elder roared, deflecting a wind blade from the eagle. ”The array is down as agreed! You lowered the southern node perfectly! Now help us suppress these damn beasts! The Hall Master promised you the women! Take your pick of the disciples, just kill that eagle!”

The words struck the battlefield like a thunderclap.

High in the air, Sect Leader Hua Yimei froze. Her head snapped toward the trembling Elder Pang. Her expression shifted from exhaustion to a cold, absolute loathing.

”Elder Pang?!” she screamed, her voice trembling with betrayal. ”You?! You sold us out?!”

Elder Pang’s face went white. ”No! No! Sect Leader, it’s a lie! I made no such deal! I don’t know what he’s talking about!”

”Don’t play coy, you lecherous coward!” the Demon Elder laughed, enjoying the chaos he was causing. ”We received your map! We entered through your assigned node! Do you want more spirit stones? Fight, damn you!”

The evidence was circumstantial but damning. Elder Pang was the only Core Formation elder assigned to the south. The breach had happened there. And Elder Pang had been noticeably absent from the front lines.

”Traitor!” a Fragrance Melody disciple screamed from the ground. ”Elder Pang sold us to the demons!”

”Kill the traitor!”

Panic overtook Elder Pang. He looked at the furious Hua Yimei, then at the murderous Demon Elder, and finally at the accusing eyes of the disciples. His cowardly nature took over.

”I... I’m leaving!” Elder Pang shrieked. ”This is madness! I won’t die here!”

He turned around, igniting his blood essence to boost his speed, and fled towards the open sea, abandoning the sect he was sworn to protect.

His flight was the final nail in his coffin. To everyone watching, an innocent man would have stayed to fight and prove his innocence. Only a guilty man ran.

”Cowardice confirmed,” Wang Jian whispered from the shadows, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. ”And there he goes. The perfect scapegoat.”

The Demon Elder, annoyed by Elder Pang’s uselessness, snorted. ”Useless traitor! You want to run? Die!”

He threw a spear of condensed blood at the fleeing Elder Pang.

Thunk.

The spear struck Elder Pang in the back. Elder Pang screamed, vomiting blood, his aura dimming, but he didn’t stop. He used the momentum of the blow to accelerate, vanishing into the night, heavily wounded and forever branded a traitor to the righteous path.

Hua Yimei watched him go, her heart hardening. ”Traitor!” she screamed, her voice cracking with grief and rage.

She channeled every ounce of her remaining spiritual energy into the Phoenix Zither. The Phoenix Fire Wood resonated with her fury.

”Phoenix Song: Nirvana Judgment!”

A massive, spectral fire-phoenix erupted from the zither. It was larger and hotter than anything she had summoned before. It screeched, diving not at the Hall Master, but at the Demon Elder who had spoken to Elder Pang.

The Demon Elder tried to block, but the phoenix fire consumed his blood shield and slammed into him. He fell from the sky, a burning comet, crashing into the mountain side.

”Focus on the enemy, Sect Leader!” Mu Lianhua shouted, stepping in to block a retaliation strike from the Iron-Blood Hall Master. ”We will deal with the traitor later! Survive first!”

While the drama played out in the sky, the ground battle shifted.

The Iron-Blood Hall Master, realizing that capturing Hua Yimei and the Zither was becoming a protracted, dangerous affair due to Mu Lianhua’s interference, changed his tactics. His greed overcame his lust.

”Second Division!” he roared into his transmission talisman. ”Bypass the women! Raid the Treasury! Seize the artifact legacies and the resource stockpiles! If we can’t take the sect, we strip it bare!”

”Yes, Hall Master!”

On the ground, a group of elite Demonic Deacons—five men at the Peak of the Late Stage Foundation Establishment Realm—broke away from the main melee. They moved with discipline and speed, heading straight for the heavy stone doors of the sect’s main Treasury vault, located at the base of the mountain.

Wang Jian, who had been methodically culling the weaker enemies, saw the movement. His eyes narrowed.

’Oh no you don’t,’ he thought. ’That is my future loot. Nobody steals from me.’

He moved. He activated his Void-Merging Breath, blurring across the battlefield. He intercepted the group just as they reached the steps of the Treasury.

He materialized out of the smoke, standing alone on the stairs, blocking the path. His black robes were stained with enemy blood (and his own staged wound), his sword pointed at the ground.

”Stop,” Wang Jian said calmly.

The lead Demonic Deacon sneered. ”A single brat? Out of the way, or we’ll skin you alive!”

Wang Jian raised his head. He projected his voice, ensuring the nearby Fragrance Melody disciples—who were retreating toward the vault for safety—could hear him.

”You shall not pass!” Wang Jian roared, his voice filled with heroic resolve. ”This is the heritage of the Fragrance Melody Sect! I will guard it with my life!”

The female disciples watched, their hearts swelling. Here was the man who had saved their Young Mistress, now standing alone against five elites to protect their sect’s future.

”Kill him!” the Deacon shouted.

The five demons charged, unleashing a barrage of blood-blades and corrosive skulls.

Wang Jian didn’t dodge. He stepped forward.

He unleashed his Stellar Qi.

It wasn’t the suppressed aura he had been using. It was a flash of his true power—a heavy, crushing gravity that distorted the air around him.

”Stellar Severing Slash: Five Star Alignment!”

He swung his sword five times in a fraction of a second. Five arcs of black starlight, sharp enough to cut space, flew out.

The blood-blades shattered. The defensive artifacts of the deacons crumpled like tin foil.

The lead deacon didn’t even have time to scream. The Stellar Qi crushed his chest cavity instantly. Two others were decapitated. The remaining two were blown backward, their meridians shattered by the impact.

Wang Jian moved among them as they fell. His hands were a blur.

Swipe. Swipe.

Using sleight of hand that would shame a master thief, he stripped the storage rings from the dead deacons before their bodies hit the stone steps. To the onlookers, it looked like he was checking for signs of life or delivering mercy kills.

”Filth,” Wang Jian spat, kicking a corpse down the stairs.

”Master!”

Chen Ying landed beside him, her Gale-Severing Frostblade dripping with blood. ”I saw them break off.”

”Good timing,” Wang Jian nodded. ”Guard the left flank. Do not let them touch the doors.”

”Yes.”

Together, they stood before the sealed treasury. They didn’t try to open it. They became its guardians.

To the sect, Wang Jian looked like a noble sentinel protecting their history. To himself, he was a dragon curling around his hoard, waiting for the right time to count the gold.

Just then, a transmission talisman vibrated in his sleeve. It was Liu Ruyan.

”Master. The wounded are stabilized. The disciples are rallying behind us. We have pushed the infantry back to the lower plaza.”

Wang Jian looked towards the horizon. A brilliant blue flare lit up the night.

Yue Lingshan had succeeded.

The jagged tear in the sky above the southern cliffs began to stitch itself shut. The red light of the blood-formation faltered, overwhelmed by the resurgence of the pink, harmonious light of the Thousand-Petal Guardian Formation. The barrier was reforming.

”The door is closing,” Wang Jian whispered, a cruel smile touching his lips. ”Now... they are trapped with us.”

High above, the Iron-Blood Hall Master felt the shift in ambient mana. The pressure of the sect’s array began to weigh down on him, suppressing his cultivation.

”The array?!” he gasped, parrying a strike from Mu Lianhua. ”How did they fix it so fast?!”

He looked down. His ground forces were being slaughtered by the spirit beasts. His elite raiding party was dead on the steps of the treasury. And the exit was sealing up.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced his blood-lust.

”Retreat!” the Hall Master screamed, his voice cracking. ”Break out! Back to the ships! Abandon the mission!”

Wang Jian watched the panic spread through the demonic ranks.

”Run, little mice,” he murmured. ”The cat is hungry.”