Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 952: Sanctuary At Fragrance Melody Sect

The modified iron-wood spirit vessel cut through the final stretch of turbulent waters, leaving the chaotic currents of the Black-Tide Region behind. As the days passed, the oppressive grey clouds began to thin, replaced by a sky of soft, pastel blues. The biting salt spray of the open ocean gave way to a warmer, sweeter breeze, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of blooming jasmine and spirit-cherry blossoms.

A week after the slaughter at the Crimson-Fang Sea Fortress, the destination appeared on the horizon.

The Isle of Whispering Petals was not merely an island; it was a paradise crafted by generations of cultivators dedicated to beauty and art. The landmass rose from the sea like a jewel, its mountain slopes carpeted in endless forests of pink and white blossom trees. The petals fell in such abundance that they coated the surrounding ocean surface, turning the waves into a shifting mosaic of floral colors. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a faint, melodious energy, as if the wind passing through the unique geography of the island was playing a constant, soothing song on a giant zither.

Wang Jian stood on the deck, his hands clasped behind his back. He had adopted the posture of a humble, respectful attendant, standing a step behind Mu Lianhua. His eyes, however, were sharp, scanning the approaching paradise with the cold calculation of a predator assessing a new hunting ground.

”It is beautiful,” Yue Lingshan whispered, standing beside him, her eyes wide with appreciation. ”The formation covering the island... it utilizes sound waves to filter spiritual energy. It is gentle, yet resilient.”

”A gilded cage,” Wang Jian murmured, barely moving his lips so only she could hear. ”Beautiful, but fragile against brute force.”

As their ship approached the sect’s grand dock—a structure made of white marble and polished spirit-wood—a patrol intercepted them. It was a group of twelve female disciples, flying on large, magical artifacts shaped like flower petals. They wore flowing robes of pale green and pink, their faces veiled, their auras radiating a cautious vigilance.

”Halt!” the leader of the patrol called out, her voice melodious but firm. ”This is the territory of the Fragrance Melody Sect. Identify yourselves and state your business.”

Wang Jian stepped back, lowering his head deferentially.

Mu Lianhua stepped forward to the prow. She adjusted her aura, releasing a carefully calibrated pressure. It wasn’t the crushing weight of her true Peak Late-Stage power, but the stable, profound presence of an Early Stage Core Formation expert.

”I am Mu Lianhua,” she announced, her voice projecting clearly over the water, carrying the regal dignity of a master Alchemist. ”A wandering cultivator and refiner of pills. I come bearing a gift for your Sect Leader, Hua Yimei. The item she lost to the Iron-Blood Hall has been recovered.”

The patrol leader’s eyes widened behind her veil. The loss of the Heavenly Wood was a closely guarded secret, a source of immense shame and anxiety for the sect. For an outsider to know of it, and to claim to have recovered it, was shocking.

”Recovered?” the disciple stammered, her wariness replaced by stunned hope. ”Senior Mu... do you speak the truth?”

”I do not jest about such matters,” Mu Lianhua said coolly. ”My disciples and I are tired from our journey. We seek an audience.”

The patrol leader hurriedly activated a transmission talisman. Moments later, the grand defensive formation of the island—a shimmering dome of pink light—rippled and opened a path.

”Please, Senior Mu,” the disciple said, bowing deeply. ”Follow us. The Sect Leader has been informed.”

The ship docked smoothly. Wang Jian, acting the part of the dutiful disciple, helped organize the group. He kept his head bowed, looking at the ground, but his spiritual sense was wide open. He scanned the hundreds of female disciples moving about the docks and the lower sect grounds. They were all beautiful, chosen for their grace and talent. It was a garden of earthly delights, and he was the snake slithering in through the front gate.

A senior deaconess, a woman in her forties with the air of a strict matron, awaited them at the end of the pier.

”Sect Leader Hua Yimei requests your presence immediately in the Orchid Palace,” she said, eyeing the group with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion.

They were led up a winding path paved with spirit-jade, through groves of singing bamboo and waterfalls that sparkled with rainbow light. Finally, they reached the summit of the central peak, where the Orchid Palace stood.

It was a masterpiece of architecture, built from translucent spirit-crystal and draped in thousands of yards of silk curtains that billowed in the wind. The scent of jasmine and orchids was overpowering here, designed to intoxicate the senses and loosen the guard.

They entered the main hall.

At the far end, seated on a throne carved from a single piece of rose-quartz, sat Sect Leader Hua Yimei.

Wang Jian raised his eyes briefly, just enough to catch a glimpse, and felt a jolt of genuine lust.

Hua Yimei was a stunner. She appeared to be in her early thirties, a mature, ripe beauty that radiated a sensual elegance. She wore a complex, layered robe of deep crimson and gold that concealed her skin but did nothing to hide the devastating curves of her body. Her waist was narrow, her hips wide and inviting, and her breasts were massive, heaving slightly with anticipation against the silk of her bodice. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes like deep pools of spring water, currently clouded with worry and pride. She was an Early Stage Core Formation cultivator, her aura fluctuating slightly, hinting at an instability caused by her missing artifact.

Standing beside the throne was a younger version of her, a girl who looked like she had stepped out of a painting of a celestial fairy.

Hua Ling, the Young Sect Mistress. She was at the Foundation Establishment Realm. If the mother was a ripe peach, the daughter was a blooming lotus—pure, ethereal, with skin so white it seemed to glow. She was widely considered the number one beauty of the Myriad Reefs Sea Domain, and seeing her now, Wang Jian admitted the rumors were not exaggerated.

’The mother is ripe, proud, and desperate,’ Wang Jian analyzed, his inner voice dripping with dark intent. ’The daughter is pure and protected. I will have them both. I will break the mother’s pride and stain the daughter’s purity.’

Hua Yimei’s gaze swept over the group. She ignored Wang Jian completely. She ignored Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan. Her eyes locked onto Mu Lianhua. She sensed the aura of a peer, a fellow female Core Formation cultivator.

”Mu Lianhua,” Hua Yimei spoke, her voice like wind chimes. ”You claim to have the Phoenix Fire Wood?”

Mu Lianhua stepped forward, maintaining her air of calm superiority. She produced the blood-jade box from her sleeve. With a wave of her hand, the lid flew open.

A golden-red light flooded the throne room, warm and purifying. The aura of the Nirvana Phoenix Fire Wood was unmistakable.

Hua Yimei stood up, her composure cracking. She rushed down the steps of the dais, her heavy breasts bouncing with the movement. She stopped before the box, her hand trembling as she reached out to feel the warmth.

”It... it is real,” she breathed, relief washing over her face. ”You actually recovered it.”

She looked at Mu Lianhua, her eyes wide. ”How? The Iron-Blood Hall had an Elder guarding it.”

”We encountered the demonic scum on our travels,” Mu Lianhua lied smoothly, following the script Wang Jian had drilled into her. ”We were resting at a supply outpost when we heard rumors of a high-value convoy. Being righteous cultivators, and seeing the atrocities the Iron-Blood Hall was committing in the area, we decided to intervene. My disciples and I set an ambush. It was a hard fight, but we dispatched them.”

She paused, adopting a look of righteous indignation. ”Afterwards, I inspected the loot. As an Alchemist, I recognized the wood immediately. I heard in a nearby trading town that the Fragrance Melody Sect’s envoy had been ambushed. I knew I could not keep such a thing; it belongs to you.”

Hua Yimei looked at her with warmth and profound gratitude. ”You have done us a great service, Sister Mu. Truly. I need this wood for my Lifebound Treasure, the Nine-String Phoenix Zither. Without it, my cultivation has been stagnant, and the sect’s grand array has been weakening. You have saved us.”

She gestured to the attendants. ”Prepare a feast! We must celebrate our benefactors.”

She turned back to Mu Lianhua. ”How can we repay you? Spirit stones? Artifacts? Ask, and if it is within my power, I shall grant it.”

Mu Lianhua bowed slightly, a look of weariness crossing her face.

”To be honest, Sect Leader Hua... the seas are chaotic. The demonic sects are becoming lawless. The life of a loose cultivator is dangerous, even for one at my level. I have to constantly watch over my disciples.”

She gestured to Wang Jian and the others. ”We are tired of wandering. We seek a quiet place to cultivate, to practice alchemy, and to live in peace. We ask only for a safe harbor.”

She looked Hua Yimei in the eye. ”If the Fragrance Melody Sect would have us... perhaps as Guest Elders? We would offer our services in alchemy and defense in exchange for residency.”

Hua Yimei was delighted. Gaining a Core Formation Alchemist was a massive boon for any sect, especially one currently under pressure. It would strengthen their prestige and their combat power.

”Granted!” Hua Yimei exclaimed, clasping Mu Lianhua’s hands. ”You shall be the Head Guest Elder! Your disciples may stay as well, with full privileges of the inner sect.”

Just then, a commotion came from the entrance of the palace.

”A new Core Formation Elder? And I wasn’t informed?”

A group of five men strode into the hall. They were the existing Guest Elders of the Fragrance Melody Sect. They were all at the Late Stage of the Foundation Establishment Realm, except for their leader.

The leader was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a greasy complexion and eyes that roved constantly. This was Elder Pang. He was an Early Stage Core Formation cultivator, the only other Core Formation expert in the sect besides Hua Yimei.

Elder Pang walked with an arrogant swagger. He stopped near the group, his eyes immediately stripping Mu Lianhua, Liu Ruyan, and Yue Lingshan naked. The lust in his gaze was open and disgusting.

”Sect Leader,” Elder Pang said, his voice oily. ”Who are these... guests?”

”Elder Pang,” Hua Yimei said, her voice turning cold. She clearly disliked the man. ”This is Elder Mu Lianhua. She retrieved the Phoenix Fire Wood. She is joining us as the Head Guest Elder.”

Elder Pang’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Mu Lianhua, assessing her. A rival. But also... a woman. A beautiful, powerful woman. He licked his lips.

”Welcome, Sister Mu,” Elder Pang sneered. ”Head Guest Elder? A big title for a newcomer.”

Then, his gaze fell on Wang Jian.

Wang Jian stood with his head bowed, looking harmless. He was handsome, undeniably so, but he had suppressed his aura to look like a generic Middle-Stage Foundation Establishment disciple.

”And who is this pretty boy?” Elder Pang laughed, pointing a finger at Wang Jian. ”Does he carry your cauldron, Sister Mu? He looks like he’s never held a sword in his life. Weak. Soft.”

The other guest elders chuckled, emboldened by their leader. They saw Wang Jian as competition for the female disciples, and they wanted to assert dominance immediately.

Wang Jian didn’t get angry. He didn’t flare his aura.

He bowed deeply, trembling slightly as if intimidated.

”I am but a humble student of alchemy, Senior,” Wang Jian said, his voice shaking. ”I assist Teacher Mu with her herbs. I... I do not like fighting.”

Elder Pang laughed loudly. ”A gardener! Ha! Well, keep to your herbs, boy. Leave the fighting to the real men.”

He leered at Yue Lingshan. ”And this one? Your wife?”

”Yes, Senior,” Wang Jian said, stepping slightly in front of Lingshan as if to protect her, but looking terrified.

”A pity,” Elder Pang muttered, loud enough to be heard. ”Wasted on a coward.”

Hua Yimei frowned. ”That is enough, Elder Pang. Show some respect to our guests.”

Elder Pang shrugged, not looking sorry at all. ”Just testing their mettle, Sect Leader. We can’t have weaklings eating our rice.”

Wang Jian watched the floor, but internally, a cold, dark smile was spreading across his soul.

’Perfect,’ he thought. ’You are arrogant. You are lustful. And you are stupid. I won’t even have to work hard to kill you. I will use your own dicks to hang you.’

The group was assigned a luxurious pavilion near the Sect Leader’s peak, a sprawling estate surrounded by orchid gardens.

The next few months passed in a deceptive calm.

Wang Jian established a routine. To the sect, he was the ”Perfect Gentleman.” He was devoted entirely to his wife, Yue Lingshan, often seen walking with her in the gardens, holding her hand, reciting poetry. He was respectful to the Sect Leader, bowing whenever she passed. He was helpful to the female disciples, fixing broken arrays or helping them refine difficult herbs, but always keeping his eyes averted, never staring at their chests or legs.

This behavior, ironically, made him incredibly attractive to the women of the sect. They were used to the lecherous stares of Elder Pang and his cronies. Wang Jian was a breath of fresh air—handsome, talented, and seemingly unattainable.

Even Young Mistress Hua Ling found herself drawn to the pavilion. She started finding excuses to visit—asking Mu Lianhua for cultivation advice, but lingering to watch Wang Jian practice calligraphy or tend to the spirit herbs.

”He is... different,” Hua Ling murmured to her mother one evening. ”He is not like the other men.”

”That is good...It seems Sister Lianhua has raised a fine disciple,” Hua Yimei noted, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

Mu Lianhua played her part perfectly. She became best friends with Hua Yimei. They spent hours discussing the Dao and alchemy. Mu Lianhua subtly, gradually, planted seeds in Yimei’s mind. She spoke of Wang Jian’s hidden talents, of his tragic past, of his potential, painting him as a diamond in the rough who just needed the right opportunity to shine.

Meanwhile, outside the sect, the Shadow Flowers were weaving a net of destruction.

Bai Xue, from her position in the Myriad Ocean Palace guild, leaked information about the Fragrance Melody Sect’s convoy routes. Su Ning, in the Blood Shark Hall, spread rumors that the Fragrance Melody Sect was weak, that their Guest Elders were disgruntled and open to bribery.

Back in the sect, Wang Jian began his operation against Elder Pang.

He used his stealth skills to slip into Elder Pang’s quarters while the man was out harassing disciples. He planted evidence—demonic artifacts looted from the Iron-Blood Hall, letters forged in a handwriting that matched Elder Pang’s, detailing plans to lower the sect’s defensive array in exchange for women and resources.

He also used minor illusion arrays near Elder Pang’s residence. Disciples passing by would catch glimpses of ”shadowy figures” entering and leaving Elder Pang’s room at night. Rumors began to spread.

The tension in the region grew. The Demonic Sects, emboldened by the intel from the Shadow Flowers, began to probe the Fragrance Melody Sect’s outer defenses. Small skirmishes occurred. Supply lines were raided. The sect felt the pressure mounting.

Hua Yimei grew stressed. Her reliance on Mu Lianhua increased. And Elder Pang, sensing the danger, became even more demanding and aggressive, trying to squeeze as much pleasure out of the sect as he could before the inevitable collapse he feared was coming.

One night, six months after their arrival, Wang Jian gathered his women in the soundproofed chamber of their pavilion.

”The board is set,” he told them, his voice devoid of the gentle persona he wore in public. ”The fear has taken root. The Sect Leader is desperate. The Guest Elders are hated.”

”When do we strike?” Chen Ying asked, cleaning her sword.

”We wait,” Wang Jian said. ”We wait for the sky to fall. When the demons come, I will be the only pillar left standing. And they will cling to me.”

Just then, a transmission talisman burned in front of him. It was a high-priority message from Su Ning.

”Master. The Iron-Blood Hall has mobilized. A full assault force. Three hundred disciples, twenty deacons, and their Sect Master—a Late Stage Core Formation expert. They are coming tonight.”

The message continued. ”They believe they have bribed Elder Pang to lower the southern array node. They are expecting an open door.”

Wang Jian read the message and smiled. His eyes glowed in the dim light.

”The trap is sprung,” he whispered. ”If the Fragrance Melody Sect investigates after the attack, all the evidence will point to Elder Pang. He will be the scapegoat. The demons will attack, expecting an easy win, but they will find us waiting.”

He stood up, looking at Mu Lianhua.

”Tonight, the Fragrance Melody Sect burns,” Wang Jian said. ”And from the ashes, we will rise as their saviors. It’s showtime.”