Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 1014: The Deceptive Banquet

The heavy, saltwater-tinged air of Abyssal Pearl City clung to the towering white-jade walls of the City Lord’s mansion. Powerful, overlapping defensive formations hummed with a low, continuous resonance, distorting the ambient light and pushing back the evening fog.

Lin Wanyue stepped through the massive primary gates, her boots clicking softly against the polished stone courtyard. She maintained a posture of absolute, aristocratic rigidity, her spine perfectly straight, her chin held at a dignified angle. Yet, beneath the layers of her pristine purple silk robes, her body was a battlefield of lingering trauma and fresh, deeply ingrained addiction. Her exceptionally thick, curvy thighs trembled with microscopic spasms with every step she took. Her womb still felt heavy, bruised, and saturated with the terrifying Stellar Demonic Yang Qi of the man who had violently conquered her only hours ago.

She navigated the familiar, winding corridors of her home, bypassing the bowing guards and silent servants, until she reached the heavy, reinforced spirit-wood doors of the inner sanctum.

She pushed the doors open.

The study was bathed in the warm, flickering light of several high-grade illumination pearls. Seated behind a massive desk carved from deep-sea ironwood was City Lord Hai Kuo. He was a man of imposing stature, his features sharp and weathered by centuries of cutthroat cultivation politics. His aura, resting firmly at the absolute peak of the Core Formation Realm, saturated the room, pressing against the walls like physical weight.

Hai Kuo looked up from a sprawling, highly detailed map spread across his desk. The deep, paranoid lines etched into his forehead deepened as he registered her presence.

“Wanyue,” Hai Kuo spoke, his voice carrying the rough, grinding cadence of ocean gravel. He set his jade brush down. “You left the mansion yesterday morning. It is now dusk of the following day. I do not recall assigning you any logistical tasks in the outer districts that required an overnight absence.”

Lin Wanyue met his calculating gaze. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but the psychological conditioning she had endured over the past day allowed her to lock away her panic. She channeled her Qi, intentionally allowing the chaotic, erratic fluctuations in her meridians to bleed outward, painting a picture of severe physical exertion.

“I was not performing routine logistics, Husband,” Lin Wanyue replied smoothly, walking forward and resting her hands on the edge of the ironwood desk. “I am intimately aware of the immense stress you have been under regarding the upcoming expedition. You require a team of five, and you were missing two reliable experts. I took it upon myself to scour the outer markets and the subsidiary islands to find loose cultivators who could fill the void.”

Hai Kuo leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to analyze the erratic, vibrating state of her spiritual aura. He noted the slight flush on her cheeks, the shallowness of her breath, and the heavy, exhausted set of her shoulders.

“You look as though you have been caught in a localized Qi storm,” Hai Kuo noted, his tone shifting from suspicion to pragmatic assessment.

“I tested them,” Lin Wanyue answered seamlessly, her voice laced with a perfectly manufactured tone of aristocratic irritation. “One does not simply hire rogue mercenaries based on their boasts. I engaged in several fierce sparring matches today to verify their combat foundations and their elemental affinities. It placed a significant strain on my meridians, and my Qi is currently erratic, but the effort yielded substantial results.”

Hai Kuo nodded slowly, the explanation aligning perfectly with the physical evidence before him. “And why target loose cultivators? The major sects in this region owe us favors. We could have requisitioned elite disciples.”

“Taking sect disciples complicates matters entirely,” Lin Wanyue countered, her tactical mind stepping effortlessly into the lie. “If a core disciple dies in the True Monarch’s tomb, their Sect Leader will demand compensation or leverage the debt against the City Lord’s estate. Furthermore, sect disciples have split loyalties. Independent mercenaries operate purely on transaction. They are disposable, and their actions leave no political trails.”

Hai Kuo tapped his fingers against the armrest, his paranoid mind turning the logic over. A slow, approving nod followed. “Your reasoning is sound, Wanyue. Have you secured the necessary numbers?”

“I have secured four,” Lin Wanyue stated. “They possess unique, highly useful abilities for bypassing ancient restrictions. I have arranged for them to attend a private banquet here in the inner sanctum tonight. You may vet them yourself.”

“Four?” Hai Kuo raised an eyebrow. “I only needed two.”

“One of them is a package deal,” Lin Wanyue explained, masking the bitter irony in her chest. “And considering the lethal nature of the arrays detailed on your map, having a buffer of redundant experts is a strategic necessity.”

Hai Kuo stood up, his Peak Core Formation aura retracting into his body. “Very well. Prepare the central hall. I will summon Daoist Luo Cheng. We will see if these strays you found are worth the Spirit Stones they undoubtedly demand.”

Three hours later, the heavy ironwood doors of the inner banquet hall swung open.

The chamber was a masterpiece of Xianxia opulence, lined with pillars of polished azure jade and illuminated by floating, softly glowing lotuses. A massive, circular table carved from a single piece of profound-sea coral dominated the center of the room, laden with plates of roasted spirit-beast meats and jugs of aged, Qi-infused wine.

Hai Kuo sat at the head of the table. To his right sat his long-time associate, Daoist Luo Cheng. Luo Cheng was a mountain of a man, his skin possessing a dull, metallic sheen indicative of his mastery over the Iron-Mountain Body Art. He was a Peak Core Formation expert renowned for surviving blows that would pulverize ordinary cultivators.

Lin Wanyue stood near her husband, her massive breasts straining against a fresh, modest green silk gown, her posture rigidly formal.

The four guests entered the hall.

The ambient temperature of the room seemed to spike instantly. Hai Kuo and Daoist Luo Cheng, two men who had lived for centuries and seen countless beauties across the Myriad Reefs Sea Region, physically stiffened in their chairs.

The women who walked through the door were devastatingly, impossibly beautiful.

Mu Lianhua led the group, her azure robes accentuating her massive, bubbly cleavage and her alluring, confident sway. Hua Yimei followed, her mature, thick hourglass figure wrapped in sheer crimson, radiating a sultry, dangerous heat. Shangguan Wan’er entered with the poised, calculating grace of a merchant aristocrat, her pale blue eyes sweeping the room, her deep purple dress clinging to her curvy hips. Finally, Shen Mengqi stepped in, her flawless, cold beauty and midnight-black hair forming a stark contrast to her exceptionally voluptuous, heavy breasts.

Behind them walked Wang Jian. He completely suppressed the terrifying, abyssal density of his Stellar Demonic Qi, projecting the flimsy, unstable aura of a cultivator barely clinging to the Late Stage of the Core Formation Realm. He kept his eyes lowered, playing the part of an untalented, parasitic Dao Companion perfectly.

The absolute shock of their beauty lasted for exactly two seconds before Hai Kuo’s paranoid, calculating mind recognized the faces of the women his wife had brought into his sanctum.

Hai Kuo’s hand slammed flat against the coral table. The impact sent a localized shockwave through the jade floorboards, rattling the wine jugs.

“Wanyue!” Hai Kuo barked, his voice turning lethal. He pointed a thick, calloused finger directly at Shen Mengqi. “Do you have any idea who you have brought into my home? That is Shen Mengqi! The traitor of the Silver Gale Sect! Her Sect Leader has placed a bounty of five-thousand low-grade Spirit Stones, or fifty mid-grade stones, on her head. She is a walking target!”

Daoist Luo Cheng shifted his massive weight, his metallic skin humming as he locked his gaze onto Shangguan Wan’er. “And the one in purple. That is Shangguan Wan’er. She is an heiress operating within the Golden Tide Consortium. What is a high-ranking merchant doing slumming it as a loose cultivator for a tomb raid?”

The tension in the banquet hall spiked to a razor’s edge.

Shen Mengqi did not flinch. Drawing upon the arrogant, icy persona she had cultivated for a century—and explicitly following Wang Jian’s telepathic instructions from earlier—she stepped forward.

“You speak of my bounty as if it is a threat to you, City Lord,” Shen Mengqi stated, her voice cold and melodious. She did not draw a weapon, but the ambient air around her chilled noticeably. “I am hunted. The Silver Gale Sect wishes to erase me. I require immense resources and powerful artifacts to survive the coming years in hiding. A legacy tomb provides exactly what I need. I am here because desperation breeds reliability. I have no sect to run back to.”

Hai Kuo’s eyes narrowed, processing the logic. A desperate, hunted expert was, in many ways, the perfect pawn. She could not betray him to the authorities because she was a fugitive herself. Her vulnerability was a leash he could exploit.

“And you, Merchant?” Hai Kuo addressed Wan’er, his tone slightly less hostile but equally suspicious.

Shangguan Wan’er smiled, a sharp, mercantile curve of her lips. She casually placed her hand on her hip. “The Consortium thrives on profit, City Lord. But the internal politics of my family are stifling. I fund independent, high-risk ventures to secure off-the-books capital. I provide logistical support and spatial array calculation. In exchange, I take a flat percentage of the raw materials retrieved. I have no interest in your political squabbles or the core legacy artifacts.”

Hai Kuo exhaled slowly, the tense grip on his localized Qi domain loosening slightly.

“Sit,” Hai Kuo commanded, gesturing to the empty chairs. “If Wanyue vouches for your combat capabilities, we will discuss terms.”

The group took their seats. Wang Jian silently pulled out a chair for Mu Lianhua, playing the dutiful, subservient partner, before sitting quietly beside her.

“We are targeting the legacy of the Profound Iron True Monarch,” Hai Kuo began without preamble, getting straight to the tactical logistics. “The island is heavily warded. We need to synchronize our Divine Senses to break the outer shell. Introduce your utilities.”

“I am Mu Lianhua,” the master alchemist spoke, her voice confident. “I command the Emerald Lotus Flame Art. I am proficient in extreme thermal disruption and neutralizing toxic miasmas.”

“Hua Yimei,” the mature milf introduced herself, leaning forward to let her heavy cleavage rest on the edge of the coral table. “I utilize sound-based Dao. I can provide wide-area kinetic disruption and disrupt the internal equilibrium of spiritual beasts.”

“Shen Mengqi. Wind Dao. I specialize in lethal execution and speed,” she stated simply, omitting any mention of her terrifying illusion arts.

“Shangguan Wan’er,” the merchant spoke. “I possess the Celestial-Tide Abacus. I calculate structural weaknesses in ancient arrays and provide localized kinetic shielding through water manipulation.”

Hai Kuo listened, nodding approvingly. The elemental synergy was excellent. Fire for clearing paths, Sound for beast disruption, Wind for execution, and Water for defense and array analysis.

“And him?” Daoist Luo Cheng grunted, gesturing a thick, metallic thumb toward Wang Jian. “His foundation is weak. His aura is leaking. He looks like he practiced some flawed, rapid-advancement technique that hollowed out his core.”

Mu Lianhua reached over, affectionately patting Wang Jian’s hand. “This is my Dao Companion. His talent is lacking, yes, but he is useful for carrying heavy materials, setting up camp arrays, and providing basic Qi transference if one of us is drained. Where I go, he goes. That is non-negotiable.”

Hai Kuo waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. As long as he stays out of the way during high-level combat. Now, the rewards.”

The City Lord leaned forward, projecting an aura of authoritative generosity. “I will be blunt. The core of this expedition is to acquire the Mind-Clearing Void-Lotus Talisman to guarantee my survival through the Heart Demon Trial for the Nascent Soul Realm. That item belongs to me.”

He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the beautiful women. “However, once I have successfully utilized the talisman and condensed my Nascent Soul, I will pass the talisman to anyone among you who wishes to attempt the breakthrough themselves as I have heard that this talisman can be activated thrice. Furthermore, all offensive Magical Treasures, defensive armaments, and medicinal herbs found in the outer chambers will be distributed evenly. Do we have an accord?”

“We agree to your terms, City Lord,” Shangguan Wan’er spoke for the group, raising her wine cup.

As the logistical conversation shifted toward the specific timing of their departure, Wang Jian sat silently, his dark eyes fixed firmly on the polished coral table.

He had absolutely no interest in participating in the tactical banter. His focus was entirely, exclusively on the woman sitting directly across from him.

Lin Wanyue sat perfectly still beside her husband. She nodded at the appropriate intervals, projecting the flawless image of a dutiful, engaged wife.

Beneath the table, Wang Jian initiated his attack.

He did not extend his foot. Physical contact was far too risky with two Peak Core Formation experts constantly sweeping the room with their passive Divine Senses. Instead, he drew upon the absolute, terrifying synergy of the Heavenly Yang Divine Physique and the soul-mark he had permanently seared into Lin Wanyue’s primal essence.

Wang Jian condensed a microscopic, entirely invisible Yin-Yang Resonance Thread. It bypassed physical space completely, vibrating on a frequency that only a marked host could perceive.

He sent a highly concentrated, scorching pulse of pure Yang Qi directly across the table, driving it straight into Lin Wanyue’s lower Dantian.

Lin Wanyue’s breath hitched violently in her throat.

The sensation was instantaneous and completely overwhelming. It felt as though a liquid fire had been injected directly into her womb. The intense, deep, agonizingly familiar heat flared in her pelvis, triggering a massive, involuntary physiological response.

Her inner vaginal walls instantly clamped down on nothing, spasming wildly. A thick, heavy wave of slick moisture flooded her core, immediately soaking the delicate silk panties beneath her robes.

“Regarding the Iron-Carapace Devouring Beetles guarding the perimeter,” Hai Kuo was saying, completely oblivious to his wife’s sudden distress. “Luo Cheng, your physical tempering will be paramount in maintaining the vanguard.”

“Leave the insects to me, City Lord,” Luo Cheng grunted, taking a deep drink of his wine.

Lin Wanyue forced her hands to remain resting casually on her lap. She ruthlessly clenched her exceptionally thick, curvy thighs together, trying to physically suppress the intense, agonizing throbbing of her clitoris. Her massive breasts felt incredibly heavy, her nipples hardening into tight, painful peaks that strained against the fabric of her green gown.

She had to manually, forcefully control her breathing, taking slow, measured inhales through her nose to prevent herself from panting like a dog in heat right in front of her husband.

She shot a furious, blistering glare across the table. Her sapphire eyes locked onto Wang Jian’s calm, impassive face.

She gathered a thread of her own Qi, projecting a highly compressed, encrypted telepathic message directly to his mind.

‘Stop this immediately, you disgusting rascal!’ Lin Wanyue hissed in his mind, her mental voice vibrating with absolute panic and a heavy, unmistakable layer of profound arousal. ‘If my husband senses the fluctuation in my Yin Qi, he will kill us both! Remove your thread!’

Wang Jian did not even blink. He took a slow sip of his wine, his expression completely blank.

He didn’t remove the thread. He doubled the intensity.

“I am merely ensuring your body remembers who it truly belongs to, Wanyue,” Wang Jian replied telepathically, his dark voice a smooth, commanding caress in her mind. “You look so incredibly proper sitting next to him. But we both know that beneath that silk, you are a dripping, desperate slut begging for my cock. Let him talk about his beetles while I play with your womb.”

A second, massive surge of blistering Yang Qi flooded her Dantian.

Lin Wanyue bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. The physical torture was absolute. The sheer, overwhelming friction of his Yang energy forcibly grinding against her awakened Yin physique made her body ache with intense, unfulfilled need.

But the physiological torture was eclipsed entirely by the psychological thrill.

She was the City Lord’s wife. She was a woman of high status, sitting in a heavily warded room, engaged in critical martial negotiations. And yet, the man who had violently raped her into submission the previous night was currently bringing her to the absolute brink of a shattering orgasm without moving a single muscle, right in front of her powerful, paranoid husband.

The sheer, taboo danger of the situation—the catastrophic risk of discovery—acted like raw accelerant on her arousal. She hated him for humiliating her. She hated him for the absolute control he wielded over her flesh. But her body loved it. Her primal essence screamed for him to push harder.

“Wanyue,” Hai Kuo’s voice suddenly cut through her internal war.

Lin Wanyue jumped slightly, her fingernails digging into her thighs. She forced her eyes away from Wang Jian, turning her flushed face toward her husband. “Yes, Husband?”

Hai Kuo frowned slightly, misinterpreting the vibrant flush on her skin and the slight tremor in her voice. “Are your meridians still aching from the sparring sessions? You seem distracted.”

“I am fine,” Lin Wanyue lied flawlessly, though a fresh wave of slick moisture ran down her inner thigh as she spoke. “I am merely contemplating the structural integration of Daoist Hua Yimei’s sound arts with the array breaking. Please, continue.”

“Very well,” Hai Kuo nodded, turning his attention back to the group. “To ensure absolute trust and loyalty during this expedition, we will seal this pact with a Blood-Oath. No member shall strike another, and no member shall attempt to hoard the legacy artifacts outside the agreed distribution until the expedition concludes.”

Hai Kuo produced an ancient, crimson parchment inscribed with binding Heavenly Dao runes. He bit his thumb, pressing a drop of his blood essence onto the paper. Luo Cheng followed suit.

The parchment was passed across the coral table.

Shen Mengqi, Shangguan Wan’er, Hua Yimei, and Mu Lianhua all pressed their thumbs to the parchment, leaving a drop of blood.

When the parchment reached Wang Jian, he obediently bit his thumb and pressed it to the paper.

To the eyes of the Peak Core Formation experts, the Blood-Oath sealed perfectly. The crimson runes flared with binding light, tethering their karmic signatures to the agreement.

However, beneath the surface of the parchment, Wang Jian executed a microscopic, flawlessly precise manipulation. As his blood touched the paper, he injected a near-invisible sliver of his highly corrosive Stellar Demonic Qi. The demonic energy acted like an aggressive acid, silently, completely severing the karmic tethers connecting his own soul, and the souls of his four women, to the Heavenly Dao runes.

The oath was functionally useless for his group. They were bound by absolutely nothing, free to slaughter and betray the City Lord the moment the legacy was secured.

“The pact is sealed,” Hai Kuo declared, rolling the parchment and storing it in his spatial ring. He stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the banquet table. “Gather your provisions. We depart in one hour. The Abyssal Sea Boat is waiting in the private docks.”

The group rose from the table.

Wang Jian stood up, offering his arm to Mu Lianhua. As he turned to walk toward the exit, he finally severed the Yin-Yang Resonance Thread.

The sudden loss of the intense, scorching Yang Qi left Lin Wanyue’s body feeling incredibly cold, empty, and desperately unsatisfied. She stood by her husband’s side, her legs trembling so severely she had to lean slightly against the coral table for support.

She watched Wang Jian’s retreating back, a heavy, ragged sigh escaping her lips. The expedition had not even begun, and she already knew that the terrifying man completely controlled the board.