Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 910: Eureka Moment

The first light of dawn, a weak, grey thing, filtered through the invisible ventilation shafts of the sanctuary. But inside the special, soundproof chamber, the only light came from the soft, eternal glow of the spirit-flowers, casting a dreamlike, intimate ambiance over the scene of utter debauchery.

Wang Jian awoke, not with a start, but with the slow, deep satisfaction of a predator that has feasted well. He was lying on a massive divan of soft, plush beast furs, and his bed was not empty. It was a tangled, magnificent landscape of naked, female flesh. The beautiful women he had conquered, the proud wives and the innocent juniors, were all around him, their bodies entwined with his and with each otherʼs in the exhausted aftermath of their long, brutal night of pleasure.

The air was thick with the scent of sex, a heavy, musky aroma of sweat and spent seed that he found more intoxicating than the rarest of perfumes.

He stirred, a simple flex of his powerful muscles, and it was as if a silent alarm had gone off.

Instantly, the women awoke. Their eyes fluttered open, and the first emotion that flashed across their faces was not fear, or shame, or even anger. It was a deep, ingrained, and almost instinctual eagerness. The previous night had been a brutal, terrifying, and soul-altering crucible. It had burned away their pride, their resistance, and their old loyalties, leaving behind only the simple, undeniable truth of their new reality: they were his.

Without a single word being spoken, they began to serve him. The gentle, motherly Liu Xiangfei, her magnificent hips shifting, started to gently massage his aching shoulders, her touch soft and practiced. The fiery Li Meiying, her wild spirit now tamed, began to work on his legs, her strong hands kneading the tired muscles. The young, once-innocent Li Mei, her shyness now replaced by a desperate need to please, took his hand and began to gently massage his fingers, her touch as soft as a butterflyʼs wing.

Wang Jian leaned back into the mountain of soft furs and softer women, a low, contented sigh escaping his lips. This was the proper way for a king to awaken.

As their soft hands and voluptuous bodies worked to soothe the aches from his great battle, his mind, now clear and sharp, began to turn. The situation outside was still a problem. A big one. And to solve it, he needed information. He needed to understand the world his new playthings had come from.

He started a casual, almost lazy, interrogation. His gaze fell upon the most stunning of the married women, a beauty with an air of noble grace, even now, naked and subservient. He reached out, his hand casually cupping her magnificent, heavy breast.

”You,” he said, his voice a low, lazy rumble. ”I donʼt believe I caught your name last night amidst all the… screaming.”

The woman, Bai Qingzhu, flinched at his touch, but it was a flinch of pleasure, not of fear. She turned to him, her beautiful face a mixture of shame and a dawning, hopeless adoration. ”This one… this one is named Bai Qingzhu, Master,” she whispered, the title of ʼMasterʼ coming to her lips as naturally as breathing.

”Bai Qingzhu,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He squeezed her breast, his thumb finding her already hard nipple and rolling it between his fingers. ”A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Tell me, Bai Qingzhu, what of your husband? The man you were so determined to be loyal to yesterday.”

He watched, with a cruel, detached amusement, as a fresh wave of shame and guilt washed over her face. He didnʼt care about her feelings. He just wanted the data.

”My… my Dao Companion is Zhang Wei, Master,” she said, her voice trembling. ”He is a core disciple of the Artifact Pavilion. A rising star…”

ʼZhang Wei?ʼ Wang Jianʼs mind sifted through the thousands of names and faces he had cataloged since joining the sect. ʼNever heard of him.ʼ He dismissed the man as an insignificant nobody. He leaned forward, his mouth closing over her other breast, taking the entire, magnificent globe into his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth gently scraping against her nipple.

Bai Qingzhu let out a sharp, helpless gasp, her back arching, her body melting under his oral assault.

”And this… rising star,” Wang Jian said, his voice muffled against her soft flesh. ”Where is he now? Why did he send such a magnificent treasure like you to this desolate, dangerous place all alone?”

Between gasps and moans, she told him her story. Her husband was indeed ambitious. He was on a critical, high-stakes mission to the northern front, escorting a new batch of experimental siege artifacts for the war effort against the Azure Sword Clan. It was a mission that came with immense risk, but also immense rewards and honor.

”He… he sent me here because this mission was supposed to be safe,” she explained, her voice a breathless whisper as Wang Jianʼs hand brazenly slid down her stomach. ”Just a simple guard duty rotation. He wanted me to earn enough contribution points so he could afford a piece of Thousand-Year Starfall Iron… he needs it to forge his own Foundation Establishment-grade spirit sword…”

Wang Jian pulled back, a slow, deeply sadistic smile spreading across his face. His inner thoughts were a chorus of pure, mocking amusement. ʼHow wonderfully, beautifully ironic. Sheʼs getting defiled, branded, and turned into my personal slut, all in the name of earning points to help her beloved husband become stronger. Heʼs off chasing glory and honor for the sect, and he has no idea that his greatest, most precious treasure is now my personal plaything, my morning meal.ʼ

He let his hand slide further down, cupping her plump, perfectly rounded buttock and squeezing it hard, making her yelp. ”Such a dutiful wife,” he purred, his voice a mockery of praise. ”Risking so much for your manʼs ambition.”

Bai Qingzhu let out a soft, helpless moan, her body arching into his touch even as fresh tears of shame and a confusing, overwhelming pleasure welled in her eyes. She loved her husband, she truly did. But the pleasure this demon gave her… it was a different world, a different reality.

He pulled her onto his lap, her magnificent, naked body settling onto his morning erection. His fingers immediately found her wet, ready entrance, dipping inside and making her gasp.

”Tell me more about this husband of yours,” he commanded, his voice a low, hypnotic growl as he began to move his fingers inside her. ”Tell me everything. While you serve me. Properly.”

She obeyed. Without another word of protest, her body and will now completely, irrevocably his to command, she began to move, her hips rocking against his hand, her story of a life that now felt like a distant dream spilling from her lips between soft, pathetic moans of pleasure.

Wang Jian, ever the master of multitasking, moved on to his next subject while his first was still diligently serving him. His gaze fell upon the fiery beauty with a wild, untamed look in her eyes, a woman named Li Meiying. Her magnificent body was covered in faint, red marks from his spankings the night before, marks of his ownership.

”And you,” he said, his voice sharp, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her closer. ”Your story.”

He gestured to the gentle, motherly Liu Xiangfei, whose voluptuous hips and soft, caring eyes made her the perfect milf. ”You. On your knees. Attend to me while we listen.”

Liu Xiangfei, her face flushed with shame, obeyed instantly, her soft mouth closing over his hardening, already-serviced cock.

Li Meiying watched, her own body trembling with a mixture of fear and a familiar, humiliating heat. She began her story. Her husband, Gao Feng, was, as she put it, a ”battle-maniac.” A talented, but reckless, inner sect disciple who was completely obsessed with combat, with glory, with proving he was the strongest.

”He volunteered for the most dangerous scouting mission on the northern front,” she explained, her voice a mixture of resentment and a strange, lingering pride. ”A deep reconnaissance into the Azure Sword Clanʼs territory. He… he told me to stay behind. He said I was a ʼliabilityʼ in a real fight. That my presence would only slow him down.”

Wang Jian tutted sympathetically, a mocking, theatrical sound. His free hand snaked around her thin waist, pulling her flush against his side. ”How foolish of him,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. ”To discard such a magnificent, fiery treasure. A real man knows how to use a good blade, not cast it aside.” He punctuated his words by grabbing her large, heavy breast, his thumb finding her nipple and roughly, almost painfully, teasing it. ”I, for one, can see your… immense potential.”

She gasped, a sharp intake of breath. A flicker of her old, defiant fire sparked in her eyes. ”Donʼt you dare talk about him like that!” she hissed.

Wang Jianʼs smile widened. He loved it when they fought back. It made the conquest all the sweeter. He found this spark of defiance incredibly arousing. As a punishment, and as a reward for his own pleasure, his hand moved from her breast and delivered a single, hard, stinging spank to her plump, perfect buttock.

”YELP!” she cried out, her defiance instantly extinguished, replaced by a whimpering submission.

He then turned his attention to the woman at his crotch, Liu Xiangfei. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gently pulling her head back. ”And you, my sweet, motherly flower? What of your man?”

She explained, her words muffled and interspersed with the wet sounds of her service, that her husband, Chen Dong, was a loyal, hardworking, and somewhat boring Deacon in the sectʼs administration. He wasnʼt a warrior. He was a logistician.

”He… he was called away by the Elders for an urgent logistical reassignment,” she managed to explain. ”To manage the supply lines for the northern army. He… he urged me to take this mission, he said it was the safest way for me to contribute…”

Wang Jian laughed aloud, a genuine, booming laugh of pure, dark humor. It all clicked into place.

ʼPerfect. Itʼs absolutely perfect,ʼ he thought, his mind racing. ʼOne is a wannabe hero fighting for glory. Another is a paper-pusher, a glorified quartermaster. They are all absolute, grade-A fools. Sacrificing precious time with their magnificent, voluptuous wives for the sake of a sect that would forget them in a day if they died. They leave their treasures unguarded, and then they are surprised when a dragon comes and claims them for his own hoard.ʼ

The seeds of a plan, which had been vague, half-formed notions, were now beginning to sprout, to grow, watered by the tears of these abandoned, beautiful women. The Hundred Beast Manorʼs arrogance… the sectʼs complete, all-consuming focus on the northern war… the total isolation and perceived worthlessness of this southern outpost…

He commanded all three women, Bai Qingzhu, Li Meiying, and Liu Xiangfei, to service him at once. Their naked, magnificent bodies became a tangled, writhing offering of soft breasts, eager mouths, and skilled hands. And as he was being pleasured, as he was drowning in a sea of forbidden, hedonistic delight, the vague notions in his mind began to sharpen, to coalesce into the first, shadowy outlines of a truly brilliant, truly ruthless plan.

He continued his ”interrogation” with the remaining beauties, including the young, now thoroughly deflowered and utterly devoted Li Mei. Each story was a slight variation on the same theme. A husband, a father, a brother—the strong, competent men in their lives were all gone. They were all focused on the glorious, honorable war in the north, the main stage where legends were made.

The common thread was undeniable. This entire southern territory, the sectʼs breadbasket, had been almost completely stripped of its competent defenders. Only the weak, the administrative, the junior, and the female disciples remained.

His mind, sharp and analytical even in the throes of his orgy, shifted its focus. He began to think from his enemyʼs perspective.

ʼThe Hundred Beast Manor,ʼ he mused, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the feeling of Li Meiʼs soft lips on his chest. ʼThey are not fools. They are cunning. They guided the Beast Tide here for a reason. They think this is a simple clean-up operation. They think they are besieging a handful of terrified, low-level survivors, cowering behind a lucky, ancient array. They have absolutely no idea that I am here. Their guard will be down. Their discipline will be lax. They will be arrogant.ʼ

And it was then, in that moment, as he felt his own climax building, as the beautiful Bai Qingzhu rode him with a desperate, practiced skill, her magnificent breasts bouncing before him, that the final, brilliant piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

The overwhelming physical pleasure, the intoxicating sense of absolute conquest, and the cold, hard strategic data he had just gathered all coalesced in his mind, a supernova of pure, demonic inspiration.

The Eureka moment.

He had it. The perfect trap.

ʼA trap of greed,ʼ he thought, a wild, ecstatic grin spreading across his face. ʼIt wonʼt be a trap of pure strength. Thatʼs for brutes. This will be a trap of psychology. A trap that uses their own arrogance, their own greed, as both the bait and the hook.ʼ

The core of the plan was beautifully, elegantly simple. He would make it look like the sanctuaryʼs powerful barrier was finally failing under their relentless bombardment. He and his team would then stage a desperate, chaotic, and utterly convincing attempt to escape. And in their ”haste,” they would ”accidentally” leave behind a magnificent, irresistible, and utterly fake treasure for the enemy to seize.

He looked around at the beautiful, spent, and utterly obedient women all around him. They were not just his playthings, his sluts. They were now a key, critical component of his plan. They would be the bait. The screaming, terrified damsels in distress whose panicked flight would sell the entire illusion.

And while the enemy was distracted, their formation broken, their minds clouded with the promise of loot and fleeing women, his true forces—his three hidden, powerful queens—would strike from the shadows. They would be the unseen net, the hidden blade, the final, deadly punchline to his cruel, elaborate joke.

He began to laugh, a low, genuinely joyful, and utterly terrifying sound that made the women around him tremble. He had it. A plan that would not only allow him to survive, but to turn the tables completely. A plan that would not only kill all of his enemies but would allow him to take everything they possessed, down to the very robes on their backs.

He climaxed then, a deep, shuddering release that was as much mental as it was physical. He rose from the divan, his body re-energized, his mind now a razor-sharp weapon, honed and ready. The time for pleasure was over.

He looked down at the beautiful, naked, and utterly compliant women. ”Get dressed,” he commanded, his voice no longer that of a lazy, hedonistic lover, but that of a cold, absolute, and terrifying general.

”The time for games is over. The time for war has begun.”