Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 953: Attack On The Fragrance Melody Sect

The night hung over the Isle of Whispering Petals like a velvet shroud, deceptively peaceful and fragrant. The air was cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the salty tang of the distant sea. From the disciples’ quarters in the valley below, the soft, melodious strumming of zithers and the haunting notes of bamboo flutes drifted up on the wind—a nightly practice that wove a protective web of sonic spiritual energy around the sect.

In the luxurious guest pavilion near the summit, Wang Jian sat at a low table made of polished spirit-wood. He held a cup of steam-curling tea, his expression serene as he gazed out at the moonlit ocean. Across from him, Yue Lingshan was reviewing a formation diagram, her brow furrowed in concentration, while Chen Ying polished her Gale-Severing Frostblade with a rhythmic, metallic rasp. Liu Ruyan and Mu Lianhua sat nearby, mediating, though their senses were keyed to the slightest disturbance.

”The music is beautiful tonight,” Yue Lingshan murmured, tracing a rune on the parchment. ”Their cultivation method involves harmonizing with the natural rhythms of the world. It creates a very stable ambient Qi field.”

Wang Jian took a slow sip of tea, hiding the cold, predatory glint in his eyes behind the rim of the cup. ”Indeed. It is a tranquility that... invites disruption.”

He checked the timing in his mind. According to the message he had received from Su Ning earlier that day, the Iron-Blood Hall had finished their preparations. The bribe had been accepted. The trap was set.

He set the cup down. Three... two... one.

BOOM!

A catastrophic explosion shattered the silence of the night.

It came from the southern cliffs, the location of the sect’s tertiary defensive node. The ground beneath the pavilion lurched violently, spilling tea and knocking over vases. A pillar of crimson fire and corrupted blood-qi erupted into the sky, tearing through the peaceful darkness like a jagged wound. The melodious music from the valley cut off instantly, replaced by screams of terror and confusion.

The sky above the southern sector turned a bruised, violent red as the grand defensive array—the Thousand-Petal Guardian Formation—flickered, groaned, and then shattered in that specific sector. The barrier dissolved into motes of fading light, leaving a gaping hole in the sect’s defenses.

Wang Jian stood up instantly, knocking his chair back. He widened his eyes, adopting a mask of calculated horror and righteous shock.

”An attack?!” he shouted, his voice laced with disbelief. ”How could the array fail so catastrophically? The outer sensors gave no warning!”

Yue Lingshan scrambled to her feet, her face draining of color. She pulled out her master formation compass, her fingers flying over the spinning dials. The needles were spinning wildly.

”The southern node...” she gasped, her voice trembling. ”It didn’t break from the outside bombardment, husband! The spiritual connection was severed from the inside! Someone lowered the localized shielding and detonated the stabilizers!”

”Betrayal,” Wang Jian hissed, his expression darkening. He turned to her, gripping her shoulders firmly. ”Lingshan, you are the only one who understands the intricacies of these formations well enough to save the rest of the array. Go to the secondary array core near the waterfall! Use your knowledge to stabilize the remaining formation. If the backlash spreads, the whole dome will collapse, and the sect will be defenseless!”

”But... what about you? The enemy...” Lingshan hesitated, looking at the smoke rising from the south.

”We will hold the line,” Wang Jian commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. ”Go! Take the Shadow Leopard and the Iron-Hide Rhino from the beast pen to protect you. Do not let anyone approach you!”

”Be careful, Jian!” Yue Lingshan cried. She summoned the two Fourth Order beasts from her beast bag—a sleek, dark leopard and a massive, armored rhino—and rushed out of the pavilion, heading towards the secondary core, her heart filled with fear for her husband and determination to fix the array.

As soon as she was out of sight, Wang Jian’s expression smoothed out. The panic vanished, replaced by the calm, icy demeanor of a general.

”Mobilize,” he ordered, his voice flat and deadly.

He turned to his harem. ”Senior Sister Chen, Junior Sister Ruyan, Elder Mu. The enemy is flooding in. The Iron-Blood Hall has committed their main force. We must buy time for the Fragrance Melody Sect to rally from the shock. Unleash the beasts. All of them.”

Through the gaping breach in the southern sky, a swarm of dark shapes descended. Hundreds of Iron-Blood Hall disciples, riding flying swords forged from crystallized blood, poured into the sect like locusts. Behind them came dozens of Foundation Establishment Deacons, their auras combining into a suffocating cloud of killing intent.

And leading them, laughing maniacally, were four figures radiating the terrifying pressure of the Core Formation Realm. The vanguard of the invasion.

”Kill the women! Seize the treasury! The Fragrance Melody Sect falls tonight!” one of the Demonic Elders roared, his voice amplified by magic, shaking the very mountains.

Wang Jian stepped onto the balcony, his spiritual sense sweeping over the chaotic battlefield below. The disciples of the Fragrance Melody Sect were fighting back, but they were in disarray. Beautiful women in flowing robes wielded zithers, pipas, and flutes. They plucked strings and blew notes that manifested as blades of sonic energy, cutting through the air.

Twang!

A wave of sound-blades sliced through the first rank of demonic disciples, shredding them. The Fragrance Melody disciples were not weak; their sound arts were potent.

However, the Iron-Blood Hall had come prepared.

”Activate the Silence-Blood Talismans!” a demonic deacon shouted.

Hundreds of invaders crushed red talismans. A heavy, dampening field expanded, muffling the sound. The sonic blades weakened, losing their lethality before they could reach their targets. The demonic cultivators laughed, charging through the weakened barrage to engage the women in brutal close combat.

Wang Jian’s gaze locked onto a specific location near the breach.

There, surrounded by the wreckage of a watchtower, a lone figure in white was fighting a desperate battle. It was Hua Ling, the Young Sect Mistress.

She was radiant even in battle, her white combat robes stained with speckles of enemy blood. She held a jade flute, using it like a sword to deflect attacks while unleashing piercing sonic bursts that disoriented her attackers. But she was overwhelmed. Three Late-Stage Foundation Establishment Deacons of the Iron-Blood Hall had her surrounded.

”I will secure the Young Sect Mistress,” Wang Jian said, a wicked glint in his eye. ”She is the key to the future. Elder Mu, go to the main peak and support Sect Leader Hua Yimei against their experts. Keep your true cultivation hidden, but do not let Yimei fall. Chen Ying, Ruyan, hold the line here. Make them fear us.”

”Understood, Master,” they chorused.

Liu Ruyan and Chen Ying stepped forward to the edge of the pavilion’s terrace. They reached for the specialized, high-grade Beast Bags at their waists.

”Come forth!”

A roar shook the foundations of the pavilion, a primal sound that drowned out the battle cries below.

Two Thunderclap Wolves, their fur crackling with blue lightning, leaped out. A Venomous Swamp Toad the size of a carriage materialized, dripping purple sludge. A Crimson-Eye Fire Bat screeched, taking to the air. These were the Fourth Order beasts, equivalent to Late Stage Foundation Establishment cultivators.

But they were just the vanguard.

The air grew heavy. A massive shadow blotted out the moon.

The Sky-Ripper Eagle shrieked, its wingspan covering thirty meters, its feathers like steel blades. The Black-Scaled Flood Serpent uncoiled, a massive river of muscle and scales, roaring with the sound of a crashing tsunami. An Obsidian-Back Earth Bear slammed onto the ground, cracking the rock, standing twenty feet tall. And finally, the Azure-Fin Tidal Python slithered out, summoning a sphere of water around itself.

Four Fifth Order Spirit Beasts. Four entities equivalent to Initial Stage Core Formation experts.

The sudden appearance of this high-level beast tide on the defenders’ side sent a shockwave through the Iron-Blood Hall’s ranks.

”Beasts?! High-level Spirit Beasts?!” one of the Demonic Elders screamed. ”Intelligence said they only had zithers and flowers! Where did these monsters come from?!”

”Kill them!” Wang Jian ordered.

He kicked off the railing, launching himself into the air. He didn’t summon a flying sword; he flew on a cushion of pure Stellar Qi, heading straight for the beleaguered Young Mistress.

Down in the ruins of the southern watchtower, Hua Ling was gasping for breath. Her spiritual energy was draining fast.

”Give it up, Young Mistress!” one of the demonic deacons leered, his face scarred and ugly. He swung a chain made of coagulated blood. ”Blood-Chain Bind!”

The chain whipped out, snaking around Hua Ling’s flute, trying to wrench it from her grip.

”Never!” Hua Ling cried, channeling her remaining Qi to shatter the chain with a sonic pulse. But the effort left her open.

The second deacon lunged from behind, his serrated saber aimed at her legs. ”The Hall Master said we can play with her before he takes her! Don’t damage the face!”

Hua Ling’s eyes widened in despair. She couldn’t block it. She closed her eyes, preparing for the pain.

BOOM!

A bolt of dark, diamond-hard energy blasted down from the heavens.

The deacon who had lunged at her simply ceased to exist from the waist up. His head and torso exploded into a fine red mist under the crushing impact of the Stellar Qi.

Hua Ling opened her eyes, shielding her face from the gore.

A figure descended from the sky like a war god. His black robes fluttered in the chaotic wind, and his sword hummed with a sound deeper and more terrifying than thunder.

It was Wang Jian.

He landed between her and the remaining two deacons. He didn’t look at her; his eyes were fixed on the enemies, cold and devoid of mercy.

”You dare touch her?” Wang Jian growled, his voice vibrating with a staged, heroic fury.

The remaining two deacons hesitated, terrified by the instant kill of their comrade. ”Who... who are you?”

Wang Jian moved. He didn’t answer. He suppressed his speed to the Late Stage of Foundation Establishment to make it look like a struggle, but his technique was flawless.

He sidestepped a blood-slash, his body moving like smoke. His sword flashed—a simple, vertical upward cut.

The first deacon’s sword shattered. The blade continued upward, bisecting him.

The last deacon tried to flee. Wang Jian spun, delivering a roundhouse kick infused with heavy gravity Qi. The deacon was launched like a cannonball, smashing into a crumbling stone wall with enough force to turn his bones to powder.

Three enemies. Three seconds.

Wang Jian turned to Hua Ling. He sheathed his sword, his expression softening instantly into one of deep concern.

”Young Mistress! Are you harmed?” he asked, rushing to her side and offering his hand.

Hua Ling stared at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. In the midst of the blood and horror, he looked like a celestial immortal sent to save her.

”Young Master Wang...” she breathed, taking his hand. ”I... I am fine. You saved me.”

”We are not safe yet,” Wang Jian said urgently, looking up. A massive explosion from a colliding spell rippled through the air nearby. Debris rained down. ”The shockwaves here will kill you! The formation is unstable!”

”We must retreat to the inner sanctum!” Hua Ling cried.

”No time to run!” Wang Jian shouted as a ball of blood-fire arched towards them. ”Forgive me!”

He grabbed her by the slender waist. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but she didn’t resist. He channeled his energy and launched them into the air, flying swiftly towards a secluded pagoda clinging to the side of a cliff, away from the main melee.

As they flew, weaving through the chaotic battlefield, Wang Jian pulled her tight against his chest. The wind roared around them.

”Hold on!” he yelled.

He banked sharply to avoid a stray flying sword. As he did, his arm ”slipped.”

His large hand moved from her waist and slid upwards, coming to rest firmly over her right breast. It wasn’t a gentle graze; he cupped the large, soft mound of flesh fully, his fingers digging in slightly as he ”secured” his grip against the turbulence.

Hua Ling gasped, her face flushing crimson even in the pale moonlight. The sensation was electric—shocking and intimate. But amidst the life-or-death chaos, with explosions blossoming around them, her mind rationalized it instantly. He is saving me. He slipped. He needs to hold me tight.

She didn’t push him away. Instead, she clung to him harder, burying her face in his shoulder, her body pressing against his. She could feel the hard muscle of his chest, the thumping of his heart. For the first time since the attack began, she felt safe.

Wang Jian’s internal monologue was far less noble. He savored the sensation—the incredible softness of her curves, the heavy weight of her breast in his hand, the scent of orchids mixed with her fear-sweat. He squeezed slightly, pretending it was a reflex to a near-miss attack, enjoying the soft whimper she let out.

They reached the cliffside pagoda. Wang Jian landed on the balcony, skidding to a halt. He didn’t let go immediately, keeping her pressed against him for a heartbeat longer than necessary before stepping back.

”Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning her for injuries.

”I... yes,” Hua Ling stammered, adjusting her robes, her face burning. ”Thank you, Young Master.”

Suddenly, Wang Jian’s eyes narrowed.

”Look out!”

He spun her around, placing himself between her and the open sky.

A stray blood-arrow, fired by a distant archer, whistled towards them. Wang Jian could have deflected it. He could have dodged it easily.

Instead, he suppressed his Stellar defense just enough to make his skin vulnerable.

Thud.

The arrow struck him in the left shoulder. It pierced the flesh, lodging deep.

Wang Jian grunted, staggering back a step. He allowed a streak of bright red blood to flow down his arm, staining his black robes.

”Young Master Wang!” Hua Ling screamed, horror washing over her face. She rushed to him, her hands hovering over the wound. ”You’re hurt! You... you took that for me!”

Wang Jian gritted his teeth, feigning pain. He reached up and snapped the shaft of the arrow, leaving the head inside.

”It is nothing,” he rasped, forcing a weak, brave smile. ”A flesh wound.”

”Nothing?! It’s a blood-arrow! The poison...” Tears welled up in her eyes. ”Why did you do that?”

Wang Jian looked deep into her eyes. He reached out with his uninjured hand and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

”A small price for your safety, Young Mistress,” he said softly, his voice filled with a heroic resolve. ”You are the heart of this sect. As long as I draw breath, no harm will come to you.”

Hua Ling’s heart melted. The gratitude, the adrenaline, the intimacy of the flight... it all coalesced into a powerful surge of emotion.

”Stay here,” Wang Jian said, stepping back. ”The pagoda has its own shielding. You will be safe.”

”Where are you going?” she cried, grabbing his sleeve. ”You are injured!”

”My companions are fighting,” Wang Jian said, turning towards the burning sect. ”The enemy is still at the gates. I must return to the fight.”

”But—”

”Stay safe, Ling’er,” he whispered, using her intimate name for the first time.

He leaped off the balcony, diving back into the inferno, leaving the Young Sect Mistress staring after him, her hand clutching her chest where her heart was beating wildly for her savior.

Down in the main courtyard, the battle had turned into a chaotic meat grinder.

Chen Ying stood atop the roof of the Alchemy Hall. Her figure was silhouetted against the burning sky. She held the Gale-Severing Frostblade, and the air around her warped with invisible currents.

”Seven Absolutes: Wind Shear!”

She swung her blade. Dozens of invisible wind blades, compressed to the thinness of a hair, sliced through the air. A squad of Iron-Blood disciples rushing the hall suddenly fell apart—quite literally—as their bodies were segmented.

”Sky-Ripper!” she commanded.

The massive Sky-Ripper Eagle shrieked and dived. It hit the demonic formation like a meteor. Its talons, reinforced with wind Qi, tore through blood-shields and armor alike. It snatched a screaming deacon into the air and dropped him from a hundred feet.

On the ground, Liu Ruyan was a whirlwind of duality.

She moved through the ranks of the wounded Fragrance Melody disciples. Her hands glowed with a gentle green light. She tossed bottles of ”Blood-Clotting Elixir” and ”Spirit-Recovery Pills” to the exhausted women.

”Drink!” she ordered kindly. ”It will stop the pain!”

”Thank you, Sister Ruyan!” the disciples cried, looking at her like a saint.

But in the next second, a demonic cultivator lunged at her. Liu Ruyan’s expression didn’t change, but the energy in her hand shifted from green to a virulent purple.

She summoned the Venomous Swamp Toad. The massive beast opened its maw and spewed a cloud of heavy, purple gas directly into the attacker’s face.

”Melting Acid Mist!”

The attacker screamed as his blood-armor sizzled and melted, followed by his skin. Liu Ruyan stepped past him, kicking him into the toad’s path to be eaten, and then turned back to the disciples with a reassuring smile. ”Stay behind me, sisters. I will protect you.”

Near the main gate, the Black-Scaled Flood Serpent had wrapped its massive body around a watchtower. It inhaled, its throat glowing blue.

WHOOSH!

A high-pressure jet of water blasted from its mouth. It punched through the chest of a hovering Demonic Deacon, shattering his ribs and sending him flying into the ocean.

But the true terror was the Obsidian-Back Earth Bear.

It stood before the entrance to the disciples’ dormitory, a living wall of stone and fur. Dozens of blood-spells struck its back, exploding harmlessly against its rock-like hide. The bear roared, swiping its paw. A demonic cultivator was swatted out of the air like a fly, his body broken against the pavement.

”Guest Elder Mu’s disciples... they are monsters!” a Fragrance Melody disciple whispered in awe, watching Chen Ying slaughter three men in a blink.

”They are fighting for us!” another shouted, rallying her courage. She began to play her pipa furiously. ”Support them! Melody of the Rising Tide!”

A wave of blue sonic energy washed over the battlefield, boosting the speed of Wang Jian’s group and the beasts.

Amidst the chaos, Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan did not forget their Master’s true orders.

Every time Chen Ying killed a deacon, her wind technique subtly snatched the storage bag from the corpse’s belt. She tucked them away efficiently. Liu Ruyan did the same, collecting the wealth of the invaders while playing the role of the benevolent healer.

The Azure-Fin Tidal Python slithered through the chaos, creating barriers of water to block volleys of blood arrows, saving groups of cowering disciples.

The Iron-Blood Hall attackers were confused and terrified. Their intelligence reports had promised a sect of soft women who played music. They had prepared sound-dampening talismans. They had not prepared for a zoo of high-level spirit beasts and ruthless sword cultivators.

”Where is the Hall Master?!” a Demonic Deacon shouted, backing away from the Earth Bear. ”We are being slaughtered down here!”

Suddenly, a blue flare lit up the distant horizon.

Yue Lingshan had succeeded. The secondary array node stabilized. The widening breach in the sky shuddered and stopped expanding. The red light of the blood-formation began to fight against the re-emerging pink light of the sect’s guardian array.

Wang Jian landed back in the fray, his shoulder bandaged (hastily, by himself), his face grim. He rejoined Chen Ying.

He moved like a ghost through the smoke. He targeted the distracted Foundation Establishment Deacons who were trying to command the retreat or reorganize.

Slash.

A single strike to the neck. Fast. Clean.

He grabbed the deacon’s storage ring as the body fell.

”Keep looking at the sky, idiots,” Wang Jian muttered, pocketing the wealth.

He looked up.

High above the sect, the clouds were parting. The air pressure was dropping drastically. The true battle—the clash of Core Formation experts—was about to begin.