Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Four complete cycles of the moon had passed since the violent eradication of the Silver Gale Sect upon the Azure Peak. The sprawling, brilliantly illuminated streets of Abyssal Pearl City had long since settled into a heavy, unbroken rhythm of absolute, terrified compliance. The bustling trade hubs, the grand auction houses, and the highly fortified harbor districts operated with a flawless, rigid efficiency beneath the unyielding, authoritative hand of City Lord Lin Wanyue. To the countless wandering martial artists and independent merchants who navigated the stone pathways, the transition of power appeared complete, solidifying the City Lord’s estate as the sole, undisputed ruler of the island.

Yet, true sovereignty was not merely claimed through the elimination of a single rival. True sovereignty demanded the absolute, physical submission of all opposing forces.

The invisible, strangulating economic embargo orchestrated by Shangguan Wan’er had run its agonizing course. The Crimson Tide Guild, once a massive, terrifying pillar of martial power within Abyssal Pearl City, had been completely severed from the vital lifeblood of the commercial districts.

On a morning obscured by thick, salty coastal fog, the heavy, profound-iron gates of the Crimson Tide Guild fortress groaned open for the final time.

A procession of broken, physically degraded men marched slowly out into the damp city streets. There were no battle cries. There were no war banners held high. There was only the heavy, dragging sound of armored boots scraping against the cobblestones.

At the head of the procession walked Guild Master Gu Heng and Grand Elder Gu Shan.

Months ago, Guild Master Gu Heng had been a colossal, terrifying figure, his body packed with extreme physical density due to the absolute mastery of the Crimson Blood Iron Body Art. Today, his towering seven-foot frame was a hollow, sagging shell of its former glory. The brutal body-refining cultivation method required constant, daily nourishment from highly potent Blood-Marrow Pills and heavy medicinal pastes to sustain the unnatural density of the muscle fibers. Denied these resources by the invisible hand of the Fragrance Melody Sect, Gu Heng’s own cultivation had turned against him.

His dense muscle fibers had begun to slowly, agonizingly cannibalize their own vitality to survive. His previously iron-hard skin now hung loosely over his massive skeletal frame, possessing a sickly, ash-grey pallor. Every step he took required a monumental exertion of will, his joints grinding together without the necessary spiritual lubrication.

Beside him, Grand Elder Gu Shan was in an even more horrific state. His Dantian had been completely, violently ruptured by Chen Ying’s Shadow-Piercing Void Dagger during the alleyway ambush months prior. Without his Core Formation Spiritual Sea to support his heavy physical mass, the Grand Elder was effectively a crippled mortal carrying hundreds of pounds of useless, dead muscle. He leaned heavily upon a thick iron-wood staff, his breathing a wet, labored rasp that echoed loudly through the silent, fog-choked streets.

Behind them marched the surviving three hundred core disciples of the guild. They were similarly starved, their bodies trembling violently as micro-tears in their muscle tissues went entirely unhealed.

The mortal residents and low-level cultivators of Abyssal Pearl City pressed themselves firmly against the stone walls of the buildings, watching the procession in absolute, profound silence. They were witnessing the death of a legacy.

The ragged procession navigated the winding, ascending pathways toward the absolute center of the metropolis, finally arriving before the towering, white-jade walls of the City Lord’s estate. The massive, reinforced main gates stood wide open, flanked by dozens of heavily armored, elite guards bearing the crest of the City Lord.

Guild Master Gu Heng did not pause. He led his broken men directly into the grand, expansive outer courtyard, marching slowly toward the towering stairs of the primary audience hall.

Inside the cavernous, vaulted throne room, the atmosphere was heavy with dense, overlapping spiritual pressure. The polished obsidian floorboards reflected the cold light of the floating spirit lamps.

City Lord Lin Wanyue sat upon the massive, profound-iron throne at the far end of the hall. She wore her immaculate, heavy purple and gold ceremonial robes, the thick silk draping elegantly over her exceptionally curvy, mature figure. Her beautiful face was a mask of cold, aristocratic detachment. Her Late-Stage Core Formation aura radiated outward in a slow, steady pulse, carrying the searing, heavy heat of the Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame she had refined.

Standing passively to the left of the throne was Mu Lianhua, acting in her public role as the Chief Enforcer of the estate. The former Sect Mistress wore a conservative, dark green martial dress, her massive, heavy breasts rising and falling slowly as she observed the entering procession with absolute indifference.

Guild Master Gu Heng crossed the threshold of the heavy ironwood doors, his dragging footsteps echoing loudly through the silent hall. He stopped thirty paces from the elevated dais, the three hundred starving disciples forming a tight, ragged formation behind him.

The silence stretched for a long, heavy moment, bearing the weight of centuries of sect history.

Slowly, agonizingly, Guild Master Gu Heng unbuckled the thick, profound-iron scabbard from his broad waist. He held his massive, ancestral heavy broadsword in both hands. The weapon weighed over four hundred pounds, forged from deep-sea heavy iron.

He allowed the heavy weapon to fall from his weakened grasp.

CLANG.

The massive broadsword struck the polished obsidian floorboards, the deafening sound of heavy metal ringing out like a death knell through the vaulted hall.

Following his lead, Grand Elder Gu Shan dropped his heavy iron-wood staff. Behind them, the three hundred core disciples unfastened their heavy maces, spiked hammers, and thick sabers, letting their weapons crash heavily onto the stone floor. The combined, heavy impact of hundreds of dense metal weapons shaking the very foundations of the audience hall.

Guild Master Gu Heng then reached into the inner pocket of his loose, ash-grey robes. With trembling fingers, he withdrew a thick, ancient record scroll bound in dark red sea-beast leather. It was the original, ancestral manuscript of the Crimson Blood Iron Body Art.

He held the ancient record scroll forward, then slowly, heavily lowered his massive body to the obsidian floor, dropping to both knees. He pressed his forehead firmly against the cold stone, holding the scroll up above his head in a posture of total, absolute submission.

”City Lord Lin Wanyue,” Guild Master Gu Heng spoke, his voice a dry, ragged rasp that completely lacked its former booming authority. ”The Crimson Tide Guild formally submits to your supreme authority. We lay down our ancestral breathing techniques. We surrender our weapons. We surrender our independent autonomy. We ask only for the basic medicinal nourishment required to prevent our physical bodies from tearing themselves apart completely.”

Lin Wanyue looked down at the kneeling giant, her sapphire eyes completely devoid of mercy.

She did not speak immediately. She allowed the heavy, crushing silence to press down upon the broken men, reinforcing the absolute reality of their defeat. They had been entirely conquered without a single grand array being activated, without a single frontline battle being waged. They had been starved into submission by the invisible, flawless economic strangulation orchestrated by her hidden Master.

”Guild Master Gu Heng, your formal submission is recognized,” City Lord Lin Wanyue finally declared, her voice carrying a cold, echoing resonance through the hall. ”The Crimson Tide Guild, as an independent martial entity, ceases to exist from this moment forward.”

She raised her right hand, signaling to the elite guards stationed along the walls.

”Your ancestral record scrolls and your heavy weapons now belong to the municipal treasury,” City Lord Lin Wanyue commanded smoothly. ”Your surviving core disciples will be reorganized into heavy labor battalions. They will be deployed to the deep-earth spiritual veins to extract raw ores for the city’s defensive arrays. In exchange for their labor, they will receive the exact, calculated dosage of Blood-Marrow Pills necessary to stabilize their decaying muscle fibers. Nothing more.”

Guild Master Gu Heng squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear of profound humiliation and defeat leaking down his scarred cheek. He had traded the proud legacy of his ancestors for the right to become heavy slaves in the very city they had once sought to rule.

”We accept your terms, City Lord Lin Wanyue,” Guild Master Gu Heng whispered into the cold stone.

”Chief Enforcer,” Lin Wanyue addressed Mu Lianhua. ”Secure the ancestral scroll. Direct the guards to escort these laborers to the southern mining sectors immediately.”

”It shall be done, City Lord,” Mu Lianhua replied respectfully, stepping down from the dais to collect the ultimate prize of the body-refining sect.

High above the audience hall, standing upon the absolute highest, hidden balcony of the central spire, Wang Jian watched the capitulation through the flawless, transparent array barriers.

He wore his immaculate white scholarly robes, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. The heavy, salty sea breeze whipped at his dark hair, but his physical posture remained entirely unmovable.

”The final piece of the local board is secured,” Wang Jian murmured softly, his dark, starlit eyes reflecting the sprawling, perfectly ordered metropolis below. ”Abyssal Pearl City is entirely pacified. The Golden Tide Consortium manages the flow of wealth, the Fragrance Melody Sect occupies the premium outer islands as an impregnable military shield, and the remaining local factions are reduced to manual labor.”

Standing slightly behind him, Shangguan Wan’er reviewed a glowing jade ledger. She wore a tight, dark blue merchant gown, her pale blue eyes tracking the massive influx of resources.

”The Crimson Blood Iron Body Art is a highly valuable acquisition, Master,” Shangguan Wan’er analyzed, her tone crisp and deeply respectful. ”While its requirements are incredibly resource-intensive, the foundational theories regarding bone-marrow density and muscle-fiber weaving can be extracted and integrated into the training regimens of our elite Phantom Silk assassins, drastically increasing their physical resilience against heavy kinetic blows.”

”Ensure the manual is thoroughly copied and delivered to my private study,” Wang Jian ordered, his gaze shifting away from the city streets and turning toward the vast, churning expanse of the outer oceans.

He possessed absolute control over this fortress city, but his brilliant, calculating mind was already casting its net far beyond the immediate horizon.

Suddenly, the heavy, ambient spiritual energy surrounding the highest spire shifted violently.

A massive, highly complex spatial array formation carved into the stone floor of the adjacent communication pavilion ignited with a blinding, searing white light. The sheer physical pressure of the spatial displacement caused the air to warp and scream, the distinct, burning scent of spatial friction filling the balcony.

Wang Jian did not flinch. He turned calmly toward the pavilion.

The Myriad Reefs Sea Region was an unfathomably vast territory. The distance between the inner affluence of Sea-Moon Island and the treacherous, untamed wilderness of the outer peripheral zones was so immense that even a Nascent Soul expert would require years of continuous, uninterrupted flight to cross the expanse. To bridge this terrifying distance, the ancient empires had constructed massive, heavily warded teleportation array formations. These ancient constructs required thousands of High-Grade Spirit Stones to activate and inflicted severe, agonizing spatial pressure upon the physical bodies of those who dared to travel through them.

The blinding white light of the array slowly faded, revealing a single, heavily armored figure kneeling upon the scorched jade tiles.

It was a senior messenger belonging to the Golden Tide Consortium’s deep-sea acquisition division.

The man was in a horrific physical state. The immense spatial pressure of crossing multiple, consecutive island nodes had severely traumatized his body. Thick, dark blood leaked continuously from his nose, ears, and tear ducts. His heavy iron-plate armor was cracked in dozens of places, and his breathing was a rapid, shallow wheeze as he struggled to stabilize his violently shaking Spiritual Sea.

Shangguan Wan’er immediately stepped forward, her merchant instincts recognizing the supreme priority markings etched into the messenger’s damaged armor.

”Report,” Shangguan Wan’er commanded sharply, standing before the kneeling man.

The messenger looked up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. He reached a trembling, blood-stained hand into his inner robes and withdrew a thick, heavily battered record scroll sealed in dark sea-beast leather. The scroll was stained with dried blood and reeked of the harsh, corrosive salt of the Dead Zones.

”Urgent intelligence... from the Dead Zones Peripheral Mining Isles,” the messenger gasped, his vocal cords tearing with every word. ”The extraction outposts... they are completely dark. I utilized the emergency relay nodes... across seven outer islands to deliver this directly to the central branch.”

Shangguan Wan’er took the battered record scroll from his trembling hand. ”You have performed your duty. Proceed to the medical pavilions for immediate meridian stabilization.”

The messenger bowed weakly before collapsing entirely onto the jade tiles, unconscious.

Shangguan Wan’er did not hesitate. She broke the heavy wax seal on the scroll and unfurled the thick parchment. She scanned the highly condensed, frantic characters written upon the page. As she read, her pale blue eyes widened slightly, a rare flicker of genuine astonishment breaking through her cold, calculated merchant facade.

She turned and approached Wang Jian, holding the open scroll forward.

”Master,” Shangguan Wan’er spoke, her voice dropping into a serious, highly focused register. ”This intelligence originates from the extreme outer territories, specifically the lawless regions bordering the Dead Zones where we harvest raw Abyssal Star-Iron. The report does not detail a demonic incursion or a Palace fleet. It details a single, catastrophic anomaly.”

Wang Jian’s starlit eyes narrowed with intense, immediate interest. He took the battered, blood-stained record scroll from her hands.

He held the parchment steady in the coastal wind, his gaze sweeping over the desperate, frantic handwriting of the outer island overseers.

’To the Honorable City Lord Lin Wanyue and the Supreme Directors of the Golden Tide Consortium,’ the scroll began, the characters jagged and rushed.

’We send this final transmission from the Black-Reef Outpost bordering the Dead Zones. Our deep-sea mining operations have completely ceased. The surrounding ocean sectors have been plunged into absolute, chaotic slaughter.

’The perpetrator is not a rival sect or a demonic vanguard. It is a single, solitary youth.

’He is completely unaffiliated with any known local power. His physical description matches the wanted notices circulated months prior by the fallen Silver Gale Sect. His name is Ye Fan.

’The boy has undergone a terrifying, incomprehensible transformation. Our scouting formations confirm that his cultivation base has violently broken through the absolute boundary. He now stands firmly at the Initial Stage of the Core Formation Realm.

’However, his raw combat capability completely defies common martial logic. He does not utilize spells or intricate arrays. He fights purely with overwhelming, devastating physical momentum. He wields a massive, incredibly heavy black broadsword that appears entirely too large for a human to carry. The physical weight of this weapon is astronomical.

’When he swings this blade, the sheer kinetic displacement tears massive vacuum tunnels through the ocean water, generating intense thermal friction that boils the sea for miles around his position.

’He is currently butchering his way through the deepest, most treacherous sectors of the outer seas, leaving absolute devastation in his wake. Seven days prior, our scouts observed him directly confronting the Abyssal Horned Serpent Clan—a massive, highly territorial aquatic beast clan known for their impenetrable, heavy iron-scales.

’Ye Fan did not retreat. He utilized a profound, ancient wind-movement art that allowed him to instantly displace the heavy air around his body, stepping perfectly through the beast clan’s highly pressurized water attacks. He engaged the Clan Patriarch, a Peak Sixth-Tier beast, in direct physical combat.

’With a single, devastating overhead strike of his heavy black broadsword, Ye Fan completely shattered the Patriarch’s massive horned skull. The raw physical force of the blow transferred directly into the ocean floor, cracking the tectonic plates and causing a localized tidal wave that destroyed three of our outer mining rigs.

’He is relentlessly hunting the most powerful deep-sea beast clans, slaughtering them without mercy, and forcibly extracting their heavy inner cores and ancient Spirit Bones. He is acting like a starving predator, consuming massive quantities of high-tier resources to rapidly, violently solidify his newly formed Golden Core.

’Three days prior, he single-handedly annihilated the Iron-Spined Turtle Tribe, crushing their heavy defensive shells with pure, bludgeoning force. He looted their ancestral burial grounds, taking thousands of years of accumulated deep-earth spirit herbs.

’He is moving inward. His trajectory, while erratic as he hunts, is slowly, inevitably bringing him closer to the established teleportation nodes that link the outer territories to the Inner Sea sectors. He moves like a natural disaster, unstoppable and entirely unburdened by consequence. We request immediate, overwhelming Nascent Soul reinforcements, or the outer mining territories will be completely lost.’

Wang Jian finished reading the desperate intelligence report.

He did not crush the scroll. He did not show any signs of anger or concern regarding the loss of the outer mining rigs.

Instead, a slow, incredibly dark, and profoundly predatory smile spread across his handsome face. The smile reached his abyssal eyes, igniting them with a brilliant, calculating anticipation.

He slowly rolled the blood-stained record scroll back up, tapping it thoughtfully against the palm of his hand.

”The prey is finally growing fat,” Wang Jian murmured softly, the heavy sea breeze carrying his quiet words out over the sprawling city.

Shangguan Wan’er stood silently beside him, her sharp mind processing the implications of the report. ”Master, if this youth has truly broken through to the Initial Stage of the Core Formation Realm and possesses the ancient legacy of the Abyssal Zephyr Lord, his combat prowess will be incredibly formidable. To effortlessly crush Sixth-Tier beasts with pure physical weight requires a foundation of absolute purity.”

”His foundation is forged from the endless karmic luck the heavens have mindlessly poured into his lap,” Wang Jian replied calmly, leaning his hands against the jade railing of the balcony. ”I have observed his kind before, Wan’er. They are the favored sons of destiny. When cornered, the heavens will part to hand them ancient inheritances. When they require resources to advance, legendary beast clans will foolishly present their necks to the slaughter.”

Wang Jian looked out toward the distant, hazy horizon where the outer oceans lay hidden beyond the curve of the world.

He knew precisely what was occurring. Ye Fan had escaped Abyssal Pearl City months ago with the ultimate prize of the ancient ruin. He had retreated into the most desolate, dangerous regions of the sea to digest the overwhelming legacy of the Nascent Soul expert. The boy had endured the agonizing, excruciating process of reforging his meridians, pushing his physical body and his spiritual sea to the breaking point to forcefully condense a Golden Core.

Now, with his new power solidified, Ye Fan was testing his blade. He was cutting his teeth on the massive, ancient beasts of the Dead Zones, hoarding their raw vitality and their hidden treasures to build his own unstoppable momentum.

”He believes he is the apex predator of those outer waters,” Wang Jian mused, a cold amusement coloring his tone. ”He believes that by swinging his heavy sword and shattering beast shells, he is writing his own legendary saga. He is gathering strength, preparing to return to the Inner Sea to claim his vengeance against those who forced him to flee.”

”Shall I deploy the Phantom Silk assassins to the outer nodes to intercept him, Master?” Shangguan Wan’er inquired, her tone perfectly clinical. ”We can utilize the teleportation array formations to position a heavily armed ambush unit at the primary entry points.”

”No,” Wang Jian commanded, raising a hand. ”Sending standard assassins against a true Son of Luck is a profound waste of valuable resources. The heavens will simply manipulate the environment to ensure his survival. A sudden spatial storm will misdirect our troops, or a passing ancient sea beast will swallow our ambush unit before they can strike. We do not throw small stones at a rising tide.”

He turned away from the balcony railing, pacing slowly across the polished jade tiles.

”Furthermore,” Wang Jian continued, his mind accessing the vast, invisible web of intelligence he had spun across the entire Myriad Reefs Sea Region. ”We are not the only hunters tracking his scent.”

He reached into his spatial ring and brushed his fingers against the pitch-black bone talisman that linked his soul directly to the Yin Severing True Monarch.

Wang Jian knew that deep within the chaotic, bloody vanguard of the Holy Nether Sea Organization, the ancient possessed spirit was also relentlessly searching for the youth. The True Monarch, completely unaware of Ye Fan’s true nature as a destiny-blessed protagonist, was hungry for the boy’s life, driven by the absolute command Wang Jian had issued in the profound-iron tomb.

”Let the ancient spirit and the Son of Luck circle each other in the outer darkness,” Wang Jian decided, his voice carrying the absolute, chilling certainty of a grandmaster moving pieces upon a board. ”If the True Monarch encounters him, Ye Fan will be forced to push his limits even further, revealing the absolute depths of the Abyssal Zephyr Lord’s inheritance. The boy will serve as the perfect whetstone to sharpen my enslaved puppet.”

Wang Jian stopped pacing, turning his gaze back to the sprawling, perfectly pacified expanse of Abyssal Pearl City.

His own foundation was entirely flawless. He sat at the absolute Peak of the Late-Stage Core Formation Realm, his physical flesh tempered to an indestructible density by the ancient Dragon-Turtle, his Spiritual Sea vast and overflowing with heavy Stellar Demonic Qi. He controlled the greatest mercantile empire in the region, commanded an impregnable fortress city, and held a network of beautiful, fiercely powerful women whose souls were entirely bound to his will.

He had spent the last several months meticulously, flawlessly building the perfect cage.

”Let him hunt. Let him gather his massive wealth. Let him build his arrogant legend across the peripheral islands,” Wang Jian stated, his dark eyes gleaming with profound, calculating malice.

He handed the battered, blood-stained record scroll back to Shangguan Wan’er.

”When he finally gathers the courage to return to the Inner Sea, he will not find the chaotic, divided city he fled,” Wang Jian declared, his tone cold and absolute. ”He will find an impenetrable fortress belonging entirely to me. We will not hunt him in the mud, Wan’er. We will wait for him to march proudly into our perfectly prepared slaughterhouse, and then we will harvest every single drop of his accumulated destiny.”

The ripples of the protagonist’s growth were violently shaking the outer seas, but at the absolute center of the web, the true architect of the region’s fate simply watched, waiting for the perfect millisecond to spring the trap.