Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 911: A Massive Slaughter

With his mind a razor-sharp weapon and his plan of deceit fully formed, Wang Jian began to move the pieces on his chessboard. The time for quiet scheming was over. The time for a grand, bloody performance had arrived.

His first stop was Liu Ruyanʼs makeshift alchemy lab. He found her surrounded by a faint, almost invisible haze of spiritual energy, her delicate hands moving with a hypnotizing grace as she performed the final refining steps on her forbidden concoctions. The air was clean, but it carried a strange, heavy stillness, a testament to the odorless, colorless nature of the poisons she had created.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes, even from behind her veil, shining with a mixture of pride and a deep, devoted adoration. She presented him with two items.

The first was a set of a dozen dark, almost black, and completely unassuming incense sticks. They looked like something one might buy in any mortal market for a few copper coins. The second was a small, elegant jade vial, filled with a clear, slightly oily, and completely odorless liquid.

”It is done, Jian,” she said, her voice a proud, happy whisper. She held up the incense sticks. ”This is the ʼMeridian Paralysis Incense.ʼ The texts say that when burned, its smoke is completely invisible and has no scent. It is absorbed through the breath and attacks the spiritual meridians directly. It is not a lethal poison, but it will make a cultivatorʼs Qi flow as sluggish as cold molasses. Even a mid-stage Foundation Establishment expert would find their power cut in half, their movements becoming slow and clumsy.”

She then held up the vial. ”And this… this is the ʼMind-Fog Toxin.ʼ It is a contact poison. A single drop, absorbed through the skin, will act as a debilitating neurotoxin. It will cause severe confusion, a half-second delay in reaction times, and a slight distortion of oneʼs spiritual sense. They will be alive, but they will be clumsy, stupid, and slow.”

Wang Jian took the items, a slow, deeply satisfied smile spreading across his face. She had exceeded his expectations. She was not just a beautiful, willing plaything; she was a truly terrifyingly talented weapon.

”You have done well, my sweet, clever fairy,” he praised, his voice a low, seductive purr. He leaned in and gave her a deep, possessive kiss, a reward that sent a jolt of pure, ecstatic fire through her entire body, leaving her breathless and weak in the knees. He was impressed, truly impressed.

With his chemical weapons secured, he moved on to the next phase: preparing the bait. He went to the chamber where he had stored the spoils from his earlier hunt. He ignored the valuable, high-potential beasts he had tamed. Instead, he pulled out the most valuable-looking, but ultimately worthless, items. A massive, shimmering, but incredibly fragile hide from a Flash-Scale Serpent. A few large, glittering, but hopelessly impure beast cores that looked impressive but held very little usable energy. And a handful of brightly colored, but spiritually weak, spirit herbs.

He carefully, meticulously, smeared the clear, oily Mind-Fog Toxin all over these ”treasures.” They now looked like a magnificent, glittering pile of loot, but they were, in fact, coated in a subtle, mind-altering poison.

He then went to his two primary co-conspirators, Liu Ruyan and Chen Ying, keeping the blissfully ignorant Yue Lingshan busy with ”final checks” on her arrays.

”Listen carefully,” he said to them, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. ”Lingshan believes this is a simple ambush. We know the truth. This is a trap of deception. We are going to stage a chaotic escape. We will make it look like our barrier has failed and we are all fleeing for our lives. In the chaos, I will arrange for this ʼtreasureʼ to be scattered, as if dropped in a panic. It is the bait.”

Chen Ying nodded, her cold eyes gleaming with an understanding of the ruthless elegance of the plan. Liu Ruyan trembled with a mixture of fear and a thrilling excitement.

Finally, he went to the chamber of his new sluts. He found them huddled together, their beautiful faces a mixture of fear and the now-familiar, ingrained anticipation they felt whenever he entered the room. He did not waste time with pleasantries. He was their Master, and they were his tools.

”When I give the signal,” he commanded, his voice cold and absolute, ”you will run out of the sanctuary. You will scream. You will cry. You will run in every direction, as if your lives depend on it. You will make it look like our barrier has failed and we are all being slaughtered. Your performance must be convincing. Do you understand?”

A chorus of terrified, but utterly compliant, ”Yes, Master,” was his answer.

With all the pieces now in place—the deceptive array, the insidious poisons, the glittering bait, and the perfectly terrified actors—Wang Jian returned to the main entrance of the sanctuary. He peered through a tiny, almost invisible crack in the great stone door.

Outside, the Hundred Beast Manor forces were still relentlessly bombarding their barrier, their attacks a constant, monotonous, and utterly arrogant display of power. He watched their leader, Xiong Shan, laughing and joking with his fellow deacons, completely at ease, utterly convinced that their victory was only a matter of time.

A cold, cruel, and deeply predatory smile touched Wang Jianʼs lips.

ʼCome, you greedy, arrogant fools,ʼ he thought, his mind a silent, chilling promise of the slaughter to come. ʼCome and claim your prize.ʼ

The signal, when it came, was not a shout or a command. It was a feeling. A sudden, violent lurch in the spiritual energy of the sanctuaryʼs great defensive array.

Yue Lingshan, poised and ready at the arrayʼs core, felt the signal and acted instantly. She poured her Qi into the sub-array they had created.

From the outside, the effect was dramatic and utterly convincing. A large section of the powerful, stable blue barrier on the eastern flank suddenly began to flicker violently. Great, angry-looking cracks of dark, unstable energy spread across its surface like a spiderʼs web. It looked, for all the world, like the ancient formation was finally, catastrophically, failing under their relentless, day-long bombardment.

A triumphant roar went up from the Hundred Beast Manor forces.

”Itʼs breaking! Their turtle shell is finally cracking!” one of the deacons shouted, pointing a triumphant finger.

To sell the illusion, a massive, chaotic light show erupted from the ”failing” section. Yue Lingshan and Chen Ying unleashed a series of flashy, explosive, but ultimately harmless techniques against a few of the weaker beasts they had captured and now released inside the breach. The sounds of explosions, the roars of beasts, and the brilliant, chaotic flashes of spiritual energy painted a perfect picture of a desperate, internal battle, a final, failing stand.

Then, the true performance began.

The ”failing” section of the barrier shattered with a deafening, illusory explosion of light, and the screaming began.

The rescued beauties, their faces masks of pure, convincing terror (a terror that was not entirely faked, as they were terrified of failing their new Master), rushed out of the breach. They ran in every direction, screaming, crying, and stumbling, a perfect picture of a routed, panicked mob fleeing for their lives.

”Theyʼre escaping! The women are escaping!” a Hundred Beast Manor disciple yelled, his eyes wide with a greedy, lustful light.

Wang Jian then made his move. He ”heroically” rushed out, seemingly to protect the fleeing women. He engaged in a brief, chaotic ”battle” with a few of the nearest Hundred Beast Manor disciples, his movements looking desperate and panicked. He grabbed the beautiful Bai Qingzhu, as if to pull her to safety.

”Let go of me!” she screamed, playing her part to perfection.

In the midst of their ”struggle,” her storage pouch was ”torn” from her belt. It didnʼt just drop. Its contents, the glittering, poison-coated beast hides and cores, spilled out onto the ground in a shining, irresistible pile, right in front of the breach.

Xiong Shan, the arrogant deacon leader, saw it all. He saw the barrier failing. He saw the beautiful, terrified women scattering like frightened rabbits, ripe for the capture. And he saw the glittering, abandoned treasure, lying there for the taking.

His arrogance and his greed completely overwhelmed his caution.

”The barrier has failed! Theyʼre running like scared rats!” he roared, his voice booming with triumph. ”After them! Kill the man, capture the women! And seize that pouch of treasures! Itʼs all ours!”

His command was the death knell for his army. Their disciplined, organized formation, which they had maintained for the entire siege, instantly broke. Greed took over. Every disciple surged forward, a chaotic, disorganized mob, each one desperate to be the first to capture a beautiful woman or to claim a piece of the glittering loot.

Several of the disciples in the lead, their minds clouded with greed, didnʼt even hesitate. They scooped up the poisoned, shimmering beast cores and hides with their bare hands, their skin instantly absorbing the subtle, mind-altering toxin.

As the chaotic mob poured into the narrow, pre-prepared canyon that led away from the breach, Liu Ruyan, hidden in a small, dark alcove high above, quietly lit the first of the Meridian Paralysis Incense sticks.

The odorless, colorless, and utterly deadly smoke began to fill the sealed canyon.

The effects were almost immediate. The disciples who had touched the toxin first began to feel a strange, dizzying confusion. Their movements became clumsy, their thoughts sluggish. Then, as the incense smoke filled their lungs, a deeper, more profound malaise took hold of them all. Their Qi, which had been surging with the thrill of the chase, suddenly felt thick, heavy, and unresponsive. It was like trying to run through deep, cold mud. They were weakened, confused, and now, perfectly, helplessly clustered together in the bottom of the canyon.

It was then that Yue Lingshan, hidden in another position on the opposite cliff, played the final, decisive card. It was not an illusion.

”Earthen Prison Gravitational Array!” she commanded, pouring her Qi into the true trap formation.

The very earth itself seemed to groan in protest. With a deafening, grinding roar, the canyon walls, which had seemed like natural rock formations, slammed shut, sealing the Hundred Beast Manor forces inside. At the same time, an immense, crushing gravitational force, a hundred times that of normal, slammed down on the trapped disciples, rooting them to the spot, making even lifting a single finger an act of monumental effort.

The trap was sprung. The enemy was trapped, poisoned, weakened, and utterly helpless.

And from the shadows at the newly sealed end of the canyon, a lone, silent, and utterly terrifying figure emerged. She moved with a liquid, deadly grace, her sword, ʼWinterʼs Sorrowʼ, gleaming with a cold, hungry, blood-red light.

Chen Ying had come to reap the harvest.

The canyon, which moments before had been filled with the triumphant, greedy roars of the Hundred Beast Manor disciples, was now a slaughterhouse filled with the sounds of pure, unadulterated panic.

”Whatʼs happening? I canʼt move!”

”My Qi… it wonʼt circulate!”

”Itʼs a trap! Weʼve been led into a trap!”

They were fish in a barrel, lambs in a slaughterhouse, and their executioner had arrived.

Chen Ying did not waste a single, precious moment. Her first, and only, target was the leader, the arrogant Xiong Shan. He was a mid-stage Foundation Establishment expert, and even weakened, he was still the greatest threat.

He was struggling against the immense gravity, his powerful Qi churning as he tried to erect a defensive artifact, a thick, tortoise-shell-like shield.

He was too slow.

”Third Absolute: Phantom Blade of the Nine Hells,” Chen Ying whispered, her voice a cold, emotionless breath of death.

She did not charge. She simply vanished.

Xiong Shanʼs eyes widened in terror as he felt, rather than saw, a dozen different attacks coming from a dozen different angles at the exact same time. It was an impossible, logic-defying technique. Before his defensive artifact could even fully form, a dozen phantom blades, each one a perfect, deadly projection of her killing intent, had already found their marks.

There was no explosion of blood. There was only the soft, wet sound of a dozen critical meridians being severed. His arms, his legs, his spiritual core—all of it was disconnected in a single, silent, terrifying instant. He collapsed to the ground, a powerful Deacon reduced to a paralyzed, useless sack of meat, his eyes wide with a final, uncomprehending horror.

With the leader neutralized, the symphony of slaughter began.

Chen Ying became a blur of motion, a phantom of death moving through the trapped, helpless disciples. It was not a battle. It was a systematic, brutally efficient execution. A flash of her blade here, a severed throat. A thrust there, a pierced heart. Her movements were a perfect, emotionless dance of death.

From the cliffs above, Yue Lingshan maintained the crushing pressure of the gravity array, her face a mask of cold concentration. Liu Ruyan, her previous nervousness gone, now threw down more alchemical bombs—not poisons this time, but loud, disorienting Flash-Bang pellets that added to the chaos and confusion, ensuring that the trapped disciples couldnʼt even organize a token resistance.

And high above it all, standing on the ridge like a chess master watching his perfect, flawless checkmate unfold, was Wang Jian. He was not fighting. He did not need to. His spiritual sense, a vast, invisible net, was locked onto the entire battlefield, directing his womenʼs actions with quiet, precise, mental commands.

ʼLingshan, increase pressure on the rear section. Three of them are trying to form a defensive circle.ʼ

ʼRuyan, a deacon on the left is trying to use a defensive talisman. Blind him.ʼ

ʼYingʼer. The deacon you just crippled. He has a high-quality storage pouch. Take it. Then finish him.ʼ

He had given Chen Ying a very specific, very important order before the battle had begun: ”Disable, do not kill immediately. Strip them of their storage pouches first.”

And Chen Ying, his perfect, loyal slave, followed his orders flawlessly. After crippling a powerful deacon, her hand would flash out, ripping the precious storage pouch from their belt with a cold, practiced efficiency. Only then would her blade deliver the final, merciful, killing blow. It was a brutal, efficient, and highly profitable harvest.

The slaughter was absolute. The Hundred Beast Manor forces, so arrogant, so confident, so utterly triumphant just moments before, were completely, utterly annihilated without a single loss to Wang Jianʼs side.

After a few, long, bloody minutes, the last scream died away. The canyon fell silent, the only sound the faint, hissing fizzle of Liu Ruyanʼs alchemical poisons and the soft, dripping sound of blood. The ground was a carpet of bodies, a testament to the perfect, ruthless execution of a perfect, ruthless plan.

Wang Jian calmly descended into the canyon. His three women, their faces flushed with the thrill of victory, their auras sharp and deadly, gathered before him. They were panting, their Qi partially depleted, but they were completely unharmed.

The ground around them was littered with the fruits of their victory: dozens upon dozens of precious, high-quality storage pouches.

He looked at the scene of carnage, at his three beautiful, powerful, and utterly loyal women, at the mountain of loot that now belonged to him. A slow, deeply satisfied, and utterly predatory smile spread across his face.

He had not just survived. He had not just won. He had turned a hopeless, life-threatening situation into a massive, overwhelmingly profitable victory.