Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 935: Spirit Gathering Tree

The night air above the city was cool, carrying the scents of roasted meat, spilled wine, and the underlying metallic tang of impending violence.

From their vantage point on the tiled roof of a nearby inn, Wang Jian crouched low, his silhouette blending perfectly with the shadows. Beside him, Sect Mistress Lianhua and Liu Ruyan watched intently, their eyes fixed on the brightly lit windows of the ʼDrunken Immortalʼ tavern across the street.

”They are going in,” Liu Ruyan whispered, pointing a slender finger.

Below, the three beauties—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—entered the tavern. They did not enter together. They moved like strangers, drifting in one by one, their faces obscured by the sheer veils Wang Jian had provided, their elegant robes hinting at high status and even higher beauty.

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was already thick with smoke and testosterone. The second floor was dominated by two distinct groups.

On the left, occupying the largest tables, were the elite disciples of the Azure Sword Clan. They were loud, boisterous, and already half-drunk on strong spirit wine.

In the center of them sat Jiao Feng. He was the nephew of Deacon Jiao, a young man with a sharp, handsome face marred by a perpetual sneer of arrogance. He wore robes of azure silk embroidered with silver swords, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a high-grade spiritual weapon.

On the right, huddled in the darker corner tables, sat the handlers of the Silent Puppet Guild. They were quiet, their movements jerky and precise. Their leader, Mo Li, sat alone at a small table. He was a pale, thin man with dark circles under his eyes, his fingers constantly twitching as he adjusted the joints of a small, intricate metal spider on the table before him.

Qiu Yun entered first. She moved with a regal, fiery grace, ignoring the stares of the common mercenaries on the first floor and sweeping up the stairs. She didnʼt look at Jiao Feng. She didnʼt look at anyone. She simply took a seat at a small, empty table near the balcony, ordered a pot of wine, and sat there, looking out at the city lights with an air of bored, untouchable elegance.

Her aloofness was the perfect bait.

”Well, well,” Jiao Feng murmured, his eyes widening as he spotted her. ”A crimson flower in a field of weeds.”

He snapped his fingers. A servant rushed over. ”Send a pitcher of the ʼCelestial Dewʼ to that lady. Tell her Jiao Feng of the Azure Sword Clan wishes to drink with her.”

Qiu Yun didnʼt even turn her head when the servant delivered the wine. She simply waved a hand, a dismissive gesture that spoke volumes. ”I drink alone,” her voice floated across the room, cool and sharp.

Jiao Fengʼs face darkened, then broke into a predatory grin. ”Playing hard to get? I like that.”

Next came Su Ning. She drifted up the stairs like a gentle breeze, her blue robes flowing around her. She took a seat near the corner, relatively close to the Puppet Guild members. She pulled a small, leather-bound book from her sleeve and began to read, her posture radiating a quiet, scholarly charm.

She glanced up once, her eyes landing on the metal spider Mo Li was tinkering with. She let a look of mingled fear and fascination cross her face before quickly looking back at her book.

Mo Li noticed. He stopped tinkering. His cold, dead eyes fixed on her. It was rare for anyone to look at his creations with anything other than disgust.

Finally, Bai Xue arrived. She looked lost, a wide-eyed innocent wandering into a wolfʼs den. She clutched her white robes tight around her, looking for a seat, her gaze darting nervously between the rowdy swordsmen and the creepy puppet masters.

”Fresh meat,” one of Jiao Fengʼs lackeys laughed, leering at her.

Wang Jian, watching from the roof, narrowed his eyes. ”Perfect spacing. Theyʼve engaged the targetsʼ attention without saying a word. Now for the spark.”

Inside, the tension was ratcheting up. Jiao Feng had risen from his seat, wine cup in hand, and was sauntering towards Qiu Yun, clearly intending to not take ʼnoʼ for an answer.

But before he could reach her, Bai Xue made her move.

She was walking past Mo Liʼs table, seemingly trying to find a path to the balcony. As she passed the brooding puppet master, she stumbled. It was a clumsy, panicked movement.

Crash!

She bumped into Mo Liʼs table. A flagon of wine toppled over, splashing dark red liquid all over Mo Liʼs pale grey robes and onto the intricate metal spider he had been working on.

The tavern went silent.

Mo Li stood up slowly. His movement was unnatural, like a puppet being pulled by strings. He looked at the stain on his robes, then at the wet metal of his creation.

”You clumsy... cow,” Mo Li hissed, his voice dry and raspy.

”I... Iʼm so sorry!” Bai Xue cried, shrinking back, her voice trembling with terrified innocence. ”I didnʼt mean to! I slipped!”

”You have contaminated the joints,” Mo Li said, his face devoid of emotion but his aura flaring with cold, dark menace. ”This alloy reacts poorly to spirit wine.”

He reached out, his hand moving with blinding speed, grabbing Bai Xueʼs wrist. His grip was like an iron pincer.

”You will pay for the materials,” he stated.

”Let go! Youʼre hurting me!” Bai Xue shrieked, pulling back, her eyes filling with tears.

This was the cue.

Jiao Feng, who had been approaching Qiu Yun, stopped. He saw the commotion. He saw a member of the Silent Puppet Guild—those creepy, grave-robbing freaks his uncle was forced to work with—manhandling a beautiful, crying girl.

It was the perfect opportunity to show off.

”Hey!” Jiao Feng roared, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. ”Get your hands off her, corpse-lover!”

He strode over, his Azure Sword disciples flanking him.

Mo Li didnʼt let go. He turned his head slowly, his dead eyes locking onto Jiao Feng. ”This does not concern you, sword-swinger. She damaged my property.”

”Sheʼs a lady, you freak!” Jiao Feng spat. He looked at Bai Xue, giving her a charming, heroic smile. ”Donʼt worry, miss. I wonʼt let this thing touch you.”

”Thank you, Young Master!” Bai Xue sobbed, playing her part to perfection. ”He... he tried to drag me away! Iʼll do anything... just please help me!”

”Anything?” Jiao Fengʼs grin widened. He turned back to Mo Li. ”You heard her. Let go. Or Iʼll chop that hand off.”

”You threaten me?” Mo Li whispered.

From the corner, Su Ning stood up, her voice soft but carrying clearly in the silence. ”Please! Stop! That puppet master... he is dangerous! I saw his construct move on its own! It looked... evil!”

Her words were like oil on a fire. The Azure Sword disciples hated the dark arts of the Puppet Guild.

”Evil constructs!” one of Jiao Fengʼs men shouted. ”Theyʼre using demonic arts in the city!”

Qiu Yun stood up as well, moving to stand behind Jiao Feng, her voice a poisonous whisper in his ear. ”Look at him. He doesnʼt respect you. He thinks he can ignore a direct order from the Azure Sword Clan. Are you going to let a grave robber insult your clanʼs honor like that?”

Jiao Fengʼs face turned red. ”Let go!”

He drew his sword. The steel rang out, a clear, sharp sound.

Mo Li didnʼt flinch. He simply twitched a finger.

CLICK-WHIRR.

A massive, humanoid puppet, made of dull, heavy black iron, dropped from the rafters where it had been clinging in the shadows. It landed with a heavy thud between Mo Li and Jiao Feng. Its arms were scythe-like blades.

”Threat identified,” Mo Li stated. ”Eliminate.”

The puppet moved. It slashed out at Jiao Feng.

”You dare!” Jiao Feng parried, sparks flying as steel met dark iron.

First blood was drawn a second later. Another puppet, a small, insect-like construct scuttling under the tables, lashed out, its razor-sharp leg slicing across the thigh of an Azure Sword disciple.

”AHH! They drew blood! Kill them! Kill the freaks!”

The tavern erupted. It was instant chaos. Tables were overturned. Spirit energy flared—blue sword lights clashing with dark, oppressive puppet aura.

Wang Jian watched from the roof, his eyes narrowed. ”Good. But not enough. They are holding back. They are afraid of starting a full war.”

He raised his hand. He focused his spiritual energy into his finger, compressing it into a tiny, almost invisible needle of force.

He aimed at Jiao Feng. The young master was parrying a blow from the iron puppet, his form perfect, his defense solid.

Flick.

The needle of Qi shot through the open window. It was undetectable in the chaotic storm of spiritual energy filling the tavern.

It struck Jiao Feng perfectly on the ”Hegu” acupoint of his right hand—the point that controlled grip strength.

Jiao Fengʼs hand spasmed involuntarily. His grip on his sword loosened for a fraction of a second.

It was enough.

The iron puppetʼs scythe-arm swept past his wavering guard.

SHHHKT.

The blade punched through Jiao Fengʼs shoulder, pinning him to the wooden pillar behind him.

”AAAAHHHHHH!” Jiao Feng screamed, a sound of pure agony and shock.

”YOUNG MASTER!” his disciples roared. ”Theyʼre killing him! Slaughter them all!”

Restraint vanished. The Azure Sword disciples went berserk. They unleashed lethal techniques, aiming to kill. The Puppet Guild handlers responded in kind, releasing poison clouds and hidden darts.

In the center of the maelstrom, Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue huddled together for a split second.

”Now!” Qiu Yun hissed.

They crushed the jade talismans Wang Jian had given them.

FLASH.

Three bursts of white light erupted, blinding the combatants for a moment. When the light cleared, the three beauties were gone, teleported to safety miles away.

They left behind a room filled with blood, screaming men, and shattered alliances.

”Perfect,” Wang Jian whispered from the roof, watching the city guards finally rushing down the street towards the tavern. ”The seed is planted. By morning, the Azure Sword Clan and the Silent Puppet Guild will be demanding each otherʼs heads.”

He turned to Sect Mistress Lianhua and Liu Ruyan. ”Letʼs go. The show is over. We have work to do.”

They returned to the rented courtyard as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple. The sounds of the city were agitated now, rumors flying faster than the wind.

Wang Jian sat in the main hall, looking pleased. Sect Mistress Lianhua sat on his lap, her new position as his favored seat now fully accepted. She was wearing her daring silk bikini, her back pressed against his chest, her curvaceous buttocks resting on his thighs.

His hands were busy, as they always were when she was near. One hand was wrapped around her slim, boneless waist, keeping her close. The other was sliding under the silk of her bikini top, his fingers kneading the heavy, soft flesh of her breasts, teasing her nipples until she let out soft, involuntary gasps.

Liu Ruyan sat across from them, spreading out a new map on the low table.

”The plan worked, Jian,” she said, her eyes shining. ”The city is in chaos. Fu Yan has already been summoned to the City Lordʼs manor to mediate. He is furious. He has pulled several elite guards from the inner sect to maintain order in the city.”

”Excellent,” Wang Jian murmured, burying his face in the crook of Sect Mistress Lianhuaʼs neck, kissing the soft skin there. ”Heʼs distracted. His forces are spread thin. Tonight is the night.”

He looked at the map Liu Ruyan had laid out. It was a detailed diagram of the Crimson Pill Sectʼs core medicinal garden.

”This is it,” Sect Mistress Lianhua said, her voice husky as Wang Jianʼs hand squeezed her breast possessively. She pointed a trembling finger at the map. ”The core garden. It is guarded by the ʼFour Seasons Arrayʼ and Fu Yanʼs personal elite guard.”

”But,” she continued, tracing a line that bypassed the main gates, ”there is a way. An old maintenance tunnel, used centuries ago for irrigation by the founder. It was sealed off and forgotten, removed from the official maps. Only the Sect Mistress is passed down the knowledge of its location.”

”And where does it come out?” Wang Jian asked, nipping at her shoulder.

”Right in the center,” she whispered. ”Near the Spirit-Gathering Tree.”

Wang Jian froze. ”The Spirit-Gathering Tree?”

”Yes,” Sect Mistress Lianhua confirmed. ”It is the heart of the garden. An ancient, sentient plant. Its sap... it is legendary. It is said to be able to restore broken cultivation foundations and massively enhance the density of oneʼs spiritual energy.”

Wang Jianʼs eyes narrowed. A broken foundation? Like hers?

”Could it restore you?” he asked.

”Perhaps,” she said softly. ”Not fully. My meridians were shattered too thoroughly. But... it could stabilize my condition. It could restore my vitality, prolong my life. And for a healthy cultivator... consuming the refined sap could help them develop a special ocular technique.”

”Ocular technique?” Wang Jian asked, his greed piqued.

”The ʼCelestial Void Ocular Artsʼ,” she explained. ”It allows one to see through high-grade illusions, detect energy flows, and greatly enhances spiritual perception. It is a lost art, dependent on that sap.”

Wang Jian felt a surge of desire—for the treasure, and for the woman who was giving it to him.

”You are a treasure trove, Lianhua,” he growled.

He pulled her tighter against him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting her submission. His hand moved from her breast to her thigh, sliding up over the smooth skin, his fingers dancing near the edge of her bikini bottom.

He stood up, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him. He didnʼt put her down. He walked around the room as they planned, holding her sexy body against him as if he couldnʼt bear to let her go.

”We strike tonight,” he decided, his voice vibrating in his chest against hers. ”Fu Yan will be busy dealing with the tavern incident. His attention will be divided. He wonʼt be watching the garden.”

He looked at Liu Ruyan. ”Ruyan, you stay here. You should alert us if anyone comes looking. Activate the privacy arrays.”

”Yes, Jian,” Liu Ruyan nodded obediently.

”Lianhua, you come with me. You know the tunnel.”

”Yes, Master,” Sect Mistress Lianhua whispered, burying her face in his shoulder.

”We need to be ready,” Wang Jian said. ”Prepare the stealth gear. Iʼll craft a few more high-grade concealment talismans.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding Sect Mistress Lianhua on his lap. He didnʼt let her go even as he began to lay out the talismans on the bedside table.

”You need to be relaxed for the mission,” he claimed, his hand moving back to massage her breast with a rhythmic, heavy pressure. ”Tension leads to mistakes.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, offering suggestions for the route while he fondled her. The line between strategist and lover, between queen and slave, was completely blurred. She enjoyed his touch. She enjoyed being his.

”The tunnel entrance,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as his thumb circled her nipple. ”It is hidden beneath the cascading waterfall on the north face. Behind the water curtain.”

”A classic,” Wang Jian chuckled.

The thrill of stealing from her own usurper sect, of striking back at Fu Yan, excited Sect Mistress Lianhua in a way she hadnʼt expected. Combined with Wang Jianʼs constant, possessive touch, she felt alive, electric.

Wang Jian checked his storage ring. He cleared out a massive space. ”Empty space ready for filling,” he muttered. ”Weʼre going to take everything.”

”Everything,” Sect Mistress Lianhua agreed.

”Letʼs go,” Wang Jian said. ”Darkness has fallen.”

They left the courtyard under the cover of true night. The city was quieter than usual, a tense, heavy silence hanging in the air after the brawl. It was perfect cover.

They moved quickly towards the outskirts of the city, towards the sectʼs perimeter wall.

”We have a few hours before the optimal time for the guard change,” Wang Jian noted, looking at the moon.

He glanced at Sect Mistress Lianhua. She was dressed in tight-fitting black night-walking clothes that clung to her curves, outlining her magnificent figure. The adrenaline of the mission was flushing her cheeks. She looked incredibly desirable.

”We have time,” Wang Jian murmured, his voice thick.

He pulled her into a dark, blind alleyway near the sect walls, hidden from the street by a pile of crates.

”Jian?” she whispered, surprised.

He pressed her back against the rough brick wall. He didnʼt speak. He just hiked up her black robes, bunching the fabric around her waist.

”For luck,” he whispered against her lips.

He didnʼt wait. He freed himself and entered her, taking her quickly, silently, in the shadows.

It was raw. It was dangerous. Any passerby could have heard them. The risk was incredibly arousing.

Sect Mistress Lianhua didnʼt protest. She found herself actively participating. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. She stifled her moans against his shoulder, biting his robe to keep quiet. She met his thrusts with a desperate energy.

She was becoming the woman he had molded her to be—a creature of desire who found pleasure in his dominance, even in a dirty alleyway before a heist.

He finished quickly, a silent, shuddering release. He held her for a moment, letting their breathing slow.

Then, he stepped back. He adjusted his robes.

Sect Mistress Lianhua smoothed her clothes down, her face flushed, her eyes bright and focused. The tension was gone, replaced by a cold clarity.

”I am ready, Jian,” she said.

He smiled. She used his name naturally now. No honorifics. Just him.

”Letʼs move.”

They approached the sect perimeter. The patrols were doubled because of the unrest, but Wang Jian activated his Void-Merging Breath. He extended his aura, wrapping it around Sect Mistress Lianhua, rendering them both effectively invisible to spiritual sense and blending them into the shadows.

They slipped past the outer guards like ghosts. They moved through the forest, silent and swift.

They reached the waterfall. It was a roaring curtain of white water, crashing down into a deep pool.

”Here,” Sect Mistress Lianhua whispered.

She stepped onto a wet rock near the edge. She made a series of complex hand seals, pushing her remaining spiritual energy into a specific, moss-covered stone.

Rumble.

The water flow suddenly split. A section of the rock face behind the waterfall slid open, revealing a dark, damp tunnel mouth.

”The maintenance tunnel,” she said. ”It leads straight to the heart.”

They stepped into the damp darkness. The stone door ground shut behind them, sealing them in.

The air was cool and smelled of earth and ancient water. The tunnel stretched out before them, a black throat leading into the belly of the enemyʼs stronghold.

Wang Jian lit a small, dim spirit fire in his palm. He looked at the path ahead.

Then, he looked at Sect Mistress Lianhua. The darkness seemed to embolden him.

He reached out and groped her buttocks, squeezing the soft flesh through her tight pants.

”Ah!” she gasped softly, the sound echoing in the tunnel.

He pushed her gently against the tunnel wall, grinding his hips against hers. He could feel himself hardening again already.

”If this goes well,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, ”if we get that sap... and the cauldron... I will reward you. I will give you a night you will never forget.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua shivered, leaning into his touch. ”I will hold you to that... Master.”

Wang Jian smirked. He took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.

ʼTonight, we steal their future,ʼ he thought, looking down the dark tunnel. ʼTomorrow, we break their alliance. Soon... it will all be mine.ʼ

He pulled her forward, leading her deeper into the dark.

The greatest heist in the history of the Crimson Pill Sect had begun.