Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 883: Ye Fan’s Growth

Meanwhile, in the pristine, cloud-wreathed mountains that housed the Crimson Pill Sect, a different kind of poison was brewing—one born not of herbs, but of jealousy and wounded pride.

The news of Liu Ruyan’s safe return from the Blood Forbidden Ground had been a cause for celebration among the sect’s upper echelons. But the details that trickled back with the other junior disciples painted a troubling picture for some.

In a private, meticulously organized alchemy lab, filled with the scent of rare spirit flowers and simmering concoctions, Gao Feng slammed a jade vial onto his polished stone bench. The sound, sharp and angry, echoed in the quiet room.

He was handsome, in a refined, scholarly way that many of the sect’s female disciples admired. His robes were immaculate, his hands steady, his control over alchemical flames second only to one. And that one was the source of his current, all-consuming fury.

Liu Ruyan.

”She was with them the entire time?” he seethed, turning to the two junior disciples who stood before him, their heads bowed nervously.

”Y-yes, Senior Brother Gao,” one of them stammered. ”After we parted ways, Fairy Liu was always in the company of the two from Mystic Peak. The man, Wang Jian, and the woman, Yue Lingshan.”

”They fought together,” the other added hastily. ”We saw them take down the Azure Sword Clan disciples. The three of them... they moved as one. Very... close.”

Gao Feng’s jaw tightened, a vein throbbing at his temple. Close. He hated that word. Liu Ruyan was supposed to be his. It was an unspoken understanding within their generation. They were the sect’s two brightest alchemical stars, a match ordained by talent, if not by the elders. He had been patient, waiting for the right moment to make his official move, to claim her as his Dao Companion.

And now this... this upstart from a second-rate sect, this ’Wang Jian’, had dared to get ’close’ to her.

”This Wang Jian,” Gao Feng said, his voice a low, dangerous hiss. ”What is so special about him? From your descriptions, he is merely a Foundation Establishment cultivator, and a new one at that.”

”He is very strong, Senior Brother,” the first disciple offered, shrinking slightly under Gao Feng’s glare. ”And... very handsome. All the female disciples in the market were whispering about him and the princess.”

Gao Feng’s lip curled in a sneer. Handsome? He, Gao Feng, was considered one of the most desirable men in the Crimson Pill Sect. To be overshadowed by some provincial nobody from Mystic Peak was a galling insult.

”He has bewitched her,” Gao Feng declared, his jealousy twisting into a righteous, protective narrative in his own mind. ”He must have used some demonic art, some seductive trick to cloud her judgment. Our Junior Sister Liu is pure, focused only on the Dao of Alchemy. She would never willingly associate with such a... ruffian.”

He began to pace the lab, his mind racing. ”He is a threat. A poison that has seeped into our sect through our most precious flower. He seeks to use her, to steal our sect’s secrets through her innocence. I cannot allow it.”

His eyes gleamed with a fanatical light. ”She must be protected. She must be... secured. Bound to the sect. Bound to... me. Before it is too late.”

He knew what he had to do. His plan was vile, a complete violation of the trust Liu Ruyan had in him as a fellow disciple, but he justified it as a necessary evil. A noble act to save her from herself, from the outsider’s corrupting influence.

He left his lab, his steps purposeful, and made his way to the secluded courtyard of Elder Jin, a powerful Core Formation expert known for his pragmatism and his quiet support of Gao Feng’s ambitions.

Elder Jin was tending to a garden of shimmering Soul-Nourishing Orchids, his expression placid. He looked up as Gao Feng approached and bowed deeply.

”Gao Feng. What matter is so urgent that it pulls you from your refinements?” the Elder asked, his voice dry.

”Esteemed Elder Jin,” Gao Feng began, his voice laced with carefully crafted concern. ”It concerns the future of our sect. It concerns Fairy Liu Ruyan.”

He explained the situation, painting Wang Jian as a dangerous, manipulative outsider who had somehow ensnared the innocent Liu Ruyan. He spoke of the need to ”save” her, to ”reaffirm her loyalty” to the Crimson Pill Sect.

Elder Jin listened silently, his ancient eyes unreadable. ”And how do you propose we... ’reaffirm’ her loyalty?”

Gao Feng hesitated for only a moment. ”To sever this outsider’s influence, her bond to the sect must be made absolute. If she were to... form a Dao bond with a true son of our sect, with someone who has her best interests, and the sect’s best interests, at heart... it would be a done deal. Her path would be set. She would be ours again, body and soul.”

Elder Jin’s gaze sharpened. He understood the crude, unspoken implication perfectly. ”You believe you are that ’true son’, Gao Feng?”

”I believe my devotion to the sect, and to Junior Sister Liu, is unmatched,” Gao Feng replied smoothly, his expression a mask of righteous sincerity.

The Elder was silent for a long time. He knew Gao Feng’s ambition, his desire for Liu Ruyan. He also knew that losing a talent like Liu Ruyan to an outsider would be a significant blow. This... solution, while distasteful, was ruthlessly efficient.

”The Heart’s Confusion Mist,” Elder Jin said finally, his voice a low murmur. ”It is a potent, forbidden concoction. Odorless, colorless. It does not force the body, but... clouds the mind, lowers inhibitions, makes the subject highly... suggestible to the desires of the one who administers it. A single drop in a cup of tea... and a subject’s will becomes as soft as clay.”

He turned and walked towards a hidden cabinet in his study. ”Securing Junior Sister Liu’s future is of paramount importance,” he stated, his back to Gao Feng. ”I trust you will be... discreet. The sect cannot be implicated in any... misunderstandings.”

He returned and placed a tiny, sealed porcelain vial in Gao Feng’s outstretched hand. ”Do what you must.”

Gao Feng bowed deeply, clutching the vial, a triumphant, possessive smirk twisting his handsome features. ”Thank you, Elder. I will not fail the sect. I will save Junior Sister Liu.”

He left the courtyard, his mind already racing with his dark plan. He would invite Liu Ruyan for a private discussion on alchemy, a pretense she would never suspect. A cup of tea, a few soft words, and then she would be his. Utterly, completely his. He imagined her ethereal beauty, her voluptuous curves, writhing beneath him, begging for him. He had no idea that a far more powerful, far more dominant man had already claimed her in ways his provincial mind could barely comprehend.

Far from these venomous plots, in the harsh, unforgiving back mountains of the Azure Sword Clan, a different kind of struggle was unfolding.

Ye Fan sat within the silent, accelerated world of the Temporal Jade Bead. His face was pale, his robes stained with sweat and the grime of failed alchemical attempts. Around him, the small patch of fertile ground was a testament to his grueling efforts. Stalks of high-age spirit herbs, cultivated over what felt like years of his internal time, swayed gently in the bead-world’s nonexistent breeze.

His journey since the Blood Forbidden Ground had been a solitary, desperate climb. He had no powerful master, no loving female companions, only his own unyielding will and the impossible gift of time.

He had spent the first month of outside time—over four years within the bead—meticulously cultivating the herbs he had managed to snatch during his frantic exploration of the Forbidden Ground. It was a slow, painstaking process. He learned through trial and error, his heart aching with every precious, ancient seed that failed to sprout, every stalk that withered due to his inexperience.

Then came the alchemy. He had only a few tattered, low-grade recipes he’d traded for in the sect’s outer market. His first attempts at pill concoction were catastrophic. He burned entire batches of irreplaceable, centuries-old herbs, turning them into useless black dross. The frustration was immense, a bitter pill to swallow. But he did not give up. He persisted, analyzing his failures, adjusting his crude flame control, learning the subtle temperament of each herb.

Slowly, painstakingly, he succeeded. He began to produce his own Qi Condensation pellets. They were not top-grade, like Wang Jian’s masterpieces. They were lumpy, low-to-mid grade pills, filled with impurities. But they were his. And they worked.

Fueled by his self-made elixirs and the endless time for practice, his cultivation had advanced. Ninth Stage. Then, the peak of the Tenth Stage. But the final push to the Eleventh Stage required something more. He needed the potent, elemental energy of a specific beast core, the core of a Thunder-Clawed Ape, a notoriously vicious beast known to inhabit the clan’s Beast Fiend Mountain Range.

He had left the safety of his cave and the Temporal Jade Bead to hunt one.

That was when his old tormentors had found him.

Senior Brother Zhao, his face twisted in a familiar, arrogant sneer, had cornered him in a narrow gorge, flanked by two of his cronies. They were all Tenth Stage, and they had seen Ye Fan’s recent, inexplicable rise as a personal insult.

”Well, well. Look what the swamp coughed up,” Zhao had sneered. ”The four-element trash, playing at being a real cultivator. I heard you’ve been getting lucky, finding some good herbs. Hand over your storage pouch, Ye Fan. And maybe we’ll only break one of your legs for old time’s sake.”

Ye Fan hadn’t wasted words. He had drawn his battered sword.

The fight had been brutal, a desperate struggle for survival. They were stronger in cultivation, their Qi denser. They attacked him together, their Azure Sword techniques a whirlwind of sharp, cutting energy.

But Ye Fan had the advantage of experience. His ’years’ in the bead-world, practicing his basic sword art tens of thousands of times, had honed his skills to a terrifying degree of efficiency. And his body, tempered through endless, agonizing training, was as resilient as spirit-tempered iron.

He was a cornered wolf, fighting with a savagery that shocked them. He used the terrain, ducking behind rocks, using the narrow gorge to prevent them from surrounding him. He took a deep, searing gash across his chest, the pain so intense it almost made him black out. But he fought on.

He managed to isolate one of the cronies, and in a desperate, all-or-nothing exchange, he took a blow to his shoulder but drove his sword through the man’s heart.

The other crony, seeing his sect brother fall, panicked and fled.

Only Senior Brother Zhao remained, his face now a mask of shocked fury. The fight had devolved into a bloody, personal duel. Ye Fan, bleeding heavily, his Qi almost depleted, finally saw an opening. Faking a stumble, he lured Zhao into a reckless charge. At the last second, Ye Fan dropped, rolling, and his sword lashed out, hamstringing Zhao’s leg.

As Zhao screamed and fell, Ye Fan was on him, his sword at the man’s throat. Zhao had begged, pleaded, his arrogance shattered. But Ye Fan, remembering the years of humiliation, the tears on his mother’s face, had shown no mercy.

He had limped away from the gorge, leaving two bodies behind, his own body a canvas of pain, but his spirit blazing with a hard-won triumph. He found and slew his Thunder-Clawed Ape, its core the final key he needed.

Now, back in the safety of the Temporal Jade Bead, he sat in meditation, the ape’s core in one hand, a handful of his crude, self-made pills in the other. He consumed them, the combined energies a raging torrent in his meridians.

He focused his will, a silent roar of determination echoing in his soul, and pushed against the bottleneck.

The breakthrough was not a gentle expansion. It was a violent shattering, a painful reforging. But when it was over, he opened his eyes. The gash on his chest was already beginning to knit itself closed, his depleted Qi was now a surging, powerful river.

Eleventh Stage of Qi Condensation.

He looked at his hands, feeling the new, potent power within them. His expression was not one of joy, but of grim, unyielding resolve. He had survived. He had grown stronger. But he knew, with an absolute certainty born from a life of hardship, that the path ahead was still long, and paved with blood and shadows.