Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 934: The Three Beauties Make Their Move
Previously on Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist...
Activity filled the small courtyard the following morning. The sun had just started to rise, casting a palette of pale orange and grey across the horizon.
Wang Jian stood centered in the yard while he adjusted his clothing. He had traded his typical robes and the flamboyant dress of a Sect Elder for the practical, rugged attire of a prosperous rogue Cultivator.
He observed his women; they were prepared.
“Veils,” he ordered, tossing them strips of delicate, semi-transparent silk. “Put them on. This isn't about hiding your beauty due to jealousy. We are cultivating mystery. Men are fools who pursue what they cannot fully perceive.”
Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue caught the fabric. They draped the silk over their faces, masking their features while leaving their captivating eyes exposed. The look only served to heighten their allure.
Wang Jian signaled them to approach. His playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by the icy focus of a strategist.
“Listen,” he said in a hushed tone. “Your task today is of the utmost importance. You three must enter the city ahead of us. Utilize every remaining contact you have. I require the exact locations where the Azure Sword Clan disciples and the Silent Puppet Guild members are congregating.”
He hesitated, meeting each of their gazes.
“Identify the friction,” he directed. “These two groups are merely allies of convenience who harbor mutual dislike. Their cooperation exists only because Fu Yan is paying them. I want you to locate the fractures in that partnership.”
Qiu Yun gave a nod, her eyes shimmering behind the silk. “We understand, Master.”
“Excellent,” Wang Jian replied. “We must turn Fu Yan’s supporters against him. The most effective path is through their disciples. Young Cultivators are driven by three things: Jealousy, Lust, and Pride.”
He flashed a predatory, wolfish grin. “And you three shall be the spark that ignites the powder keg.”
He gestured toward them. “You are the bait. Locate the highest-ranking disciples from both factions—the arrogant ones with something to prove. Entice them to fight over you. Ignite a diplomatic disaster so chaotic that their Elders cannot ignore it.”
Reaching into his storage pouch, he retrieved three glowing jade talismans and handed one to each woman.
“These are high-grade escape talismans,” he noted. “I forged them myself. If the situation turns hazardous or they attempt to force themselves upon you, crush these. You will be teleported three miles away at random. Do not permit them to touch you. You belong to me. Your bodies are my property. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master,” they answered in unison, their voices reflecting a blend of devotion and thrill. They secured the talismans within their robes, keeping them close to their skin.
“Go,” Wang Jian dismissed them. “Make me proud.”
The three women departed through the gate with the fluid grace of Cultivators, eager to demonstrate their value to their new master.
Wang Jian watched their departure before turning to the two remaining women.
Liu Ruyan stood at his side in elegant, flowing robes that teased her curves without revealing too much. She perfectly embodied the favored concubine of a powerful Young Master.
Then there was Sect Mistress Lianhua.
She was dressed modestly, almost like a commoner, in servant’s robes. She clutched a large cloth bag. It wasn't heavy; Wang Jian stored the significant treasures, spirit stones, and artifacts in his own interspatial pouches. This bag held only mundane supplies and a change of clothes.
It was a theatrical prop. A symbol of status.
“Ready?” Wang Jian inquired, looking her way.
Sect Mistress Lianhua stared down at the bag. Just weeks prior, the notion of carrying luggage like a lowly servant would have been a lethal insult. She was a Foundation Establishment expert and the leader of a Sect!
But now?
A strange, twisting sensation filled her stomach. She looked up at Wang Jian, her eyes gleaming with submissive fervor. She felt no humiliation; she had embraced her new truth. She was his. If he required a queen, she would be one. If he required a servant, she would be the finest in the world.
“I am ready, Master,” she whispered, gripping the bag. “It is an honor to carry your burdens.”
Wang Jian smiled, stroking her cheek through her veil. “Good girl. Let’s move.”
They exited the courtyard and walked toward the city.
The journey was a staged performance. Wang Jian walked down the center of the path, exuding an aura of arrogant self-assurance. Liu Ruyan walked beside him, her arm linked with his, occasionally pressing her body against him to play the part of a pampered lover.
Sect Mistress Lianhua followed two paces behind with her head slightly bowed, carrying the bag. She maintained a steady pace, her eyes locked on Wang Jian’s back. She found an odd peace in this role—no politics to navigate, no decisions to make. Only service and obedience.
They arrived at the city gates, which were teeming with life. This market city, nestled in the shadow of the Crimson Pill Sect, served as a major trade hub. Cultivators, mortal traders, mercenaries, and spies were everywhere.
The noise was overwhelming—the shouts of merchants, the rumble of wagons, and the growls of beasts of burden.
They passed the sentries easily after Wang Jian threw a few low-grade spirit stones as a ‘tip’ to prevent any questioning.
Upon entering the market district, Wang Jian’s senses sharpened. The Verdant Eternal Spring Essence in his body began to hum, vibrating in his Meridians in response to nearby potent flora.
He could feel them: rare herbs and powerful roots hidden from plain sight.
“This way,” he whispered to Liu Ruyan, guiding them toward the apothecaries.
He stopped at a stall managed by a grizzled, one-eyed man. The table was covered in basic spirit grass and common ginseng.
Wang Jian ignored the junk and looked the old man in the eye.
“You have better stock in the back,” Wang Jian said quietly. “Something that carries the scent of thunder and earth.”
The old man’s eye widened. After a nervous glance around, he reached beneath the table and produced a wooden box. Inside lay a gnarled root sparking with faint static. “Thunder-Root Ginseng.”
“You have a sharp nose, Young Master,” the old man rasped.
“The price?” Wang Jian asked.
“Five hundred spirit stones.”
“Two hundred,” Wang Jian countered immediately. “It’s dry. It has been out of the soil too long, and the potency is waning.”
The man scowled. “Three hundred.”
“Two fifty. And include that bag of Star-Anise seeds.”
“Deal.”
Wang Jian paid, stowing the items in his spatial pouch. He moved on like a predator in the water.
Sect Mistress Lianhua followed in silence, admiring his efficiency. He wasn't merely powerful; he was cunning and understood value.
They spent an hour in the market. Wang Jian purchased rare seeds, unique ores, and exotic beast blood, enjoying the thrill of the haggle.
Liu Ruyan pointed out specific alchemical ingredients, whispering their functions to him to bolster their cover as a couple shopping for Cultivation supplies.
Eventually, the midday heat intensified.
“I’m thirsty,” Wang Jian declared, halting in the street. He surveyed the area. “That place looks sufficient.”
He pointed to the ‘Fragrant Cloud Teahouse,’ an upscale multi-story building popular with affluent Cultivators.
“Let’s secure a private room,” he said, a dark glint appearing in his eyes that Sect Mistress Lianhua recognized at once.
Her heart fluttered as she tightened her hold on the bag.
They entered the establishment. A waiter hurried over, bowing deeply at the sight of their fine clothes and Wang Jian’s haughty air.
“A private room,” Wang Jian commanded. “Top floor. Your finest tea. I am not to be disturbed.”
“Certainly, Young Master! This way!”
They were escorted to a lavish room on the third floor, featuring a balcony, thick rugs, and plush cushions around a low table.
The waiter served a pot of fragrant tea and left, closing the heavy door behind him.
Wang Jian didn't sit immediately. He paced the room, inspecting the walls and tapping the wood to check the soundproofing arrays.
“Adequate,” he muttered. “Not perfect, but enough for privacy.”
He took his seat at the head of the table, legs spread wide.
“Tea, Ruyan,” he ordered.
Liu Ruyan knelt by the table and began the pouring ritual with practiced, fluid motions.
Wang Jian turned his attention to Sect Mistress Lianhua, who remained by the door with the bag.
“Set the bag down, Lianhua,” he said softly.
She complied, placing it in the corner.
He looked at the table and then at her. “The table is somewhat... cramped,” he mused, tapping the wood. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable beneath it?”
Sect Mistress Lianhua went still. She looked at the low table; there was barely enough space for a person to fit.
She looked at Wang Jian. His eyes were cold and demanding.
She looked at Liu Ruyan, who sipped her tea calmly as if the request were entirely mundane.
Taking a breath, Sect Mistress Lianhua approached the table. She didn't protest or waver. She dropped to her knees.
She crawled into the cramped space.
It was tight. The tablecloth draped down, creating a dark, private tent. Wang Jian’s legs were spread wide before her.
“Comfortable?” his voice drifted from above, slightly muffled.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered into the dark.
“Good. Then serve me.”
She reached out, her hands shaking slightly as she loosened the sash of his trousers and pulled the fabric aside.
His member sprang free, already semi-erect and twitching in the dim light.
Sect Mistress Lianhua leaned in, opening her mouth to take him in.
Above the table, Wang Jian lifted his teacup. He took a slow, calculated sip, his expression perfectly neutral—the image of a Young Master enjoying a quiet break.
Beneath the table, wet sounds began to echo.
“This tea is superb, Ruyan,” Wang Jian remarked casually. “Is it Mist-Mountain Peak?”
“I believe so, Jian,” Liu Ruyan answered steadily, though a faint flush touched her cheeks. “It has that distinct pine needle aftertaste.”
Underneath, Sect Mistress Lianhua swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head and opening her throat to accommodate his length.
Wang Jian felt the heat and suction of her mouth. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh that could have easily been mistaken for appreciation of the tea.
He nudged Sect Mistress Lianhua gently with his knee.
“Use your breasts,” he commanded in a low, downward whisper.
She obeyed at once. Pulling back, she loosened her robes to reveal her massive breasts, pressing them together to create a deep valley of soft flesh.
She slid him between them.
She began to move up and down. Her breasts were so ample they enveloped him entirely, creating incredible friction.
Above, Wang Jian leaned back. “So, Ruyan,” he said, his voice tightening. “Tell me about the pill market prices you observed.”
“Well,” Liu Ruyan said, setting her cup down and focusing on his face to avoid looking under the table. “The cost of Spirit-Mending Grass has surged. The conflict between factions seems to be hindering southern supply lines.”
“Is that right?” Wang Jian grunted. Below, he reached down to grab a handful of Sect Mistress Lianhua’s hair, forcing a faster, harder rhythm.
The thrill was intoxicating. Waiters passed by outside; laughter echoed from the next room.
And here he was, being serviced by a Sect Mistress while her disciple sat across from him drinking tea.
He closed his eyes, extending his spiritual sense through the walls and filtering the noise of the teahouse.
He wasn't just seeking pleasure; he was gathering intelligence.
He caught fragments of talk from the floor below.
“...heard Fu Yan is becoming paranoid...”
“...doubled treasury security...”
“...Azure Sword disciples are restless... haven't seen their full pay...”
“...Puppet Guild weirdos are creeping everyone out...”
Wang Jian smirked. The cracks were forming. He only needed to widen them.
Beneath the table, Sect Mistress Lianhua worked tirelessly. She alternated between her mouth and breasts, desperate to be of use. She licked the tip and swirled her tongue before burying him in her cleavage again.
Wang Jian felt the climax approaching.
He gripped her head firmly, halting her movement.
“Mouth,” he hissed. “Now. Deep.”
She opened wide. He thrust forward, driving deep into her throat.
She didn't gag; she accepted him fully. He moved with sharp, quick thrusts as his breathing grew heavy.
“Ruyan... pour... another...” he gasped.
Liu Ruyan’s hand shook as she refilled his cup.
Wang Jian groaned, his muscles tensing. With one final thrust, he climaxed, releasing his seed down the Sect Mistress’s throat.
She swallowed every drop, continuing until he was clean.
He slumped back, exhaling slowly.
After a moment, he tapped her head. “Good. Clean me.”
She used her silk handkerchief to wipe him before adjusting his trousers and re-tying the sash.
Then, she emerged from under the table.
She stood and smoothed her robes. Her face was red and her lips swollen, but she remained composed as she wiped a stray drop of saliva from her mouth.
“Anything else, Master?” she asked softly.
“No,” Wang Jian said, standing to stretch. He felt revitalized. “That is all.”
He left a spirit stone on the table for the tea.
“Let’s go. It’s time to see what our spies have uncovered.”
They exited the teahouse and moved toward the seedy district where gambling dens and taverns were located—the haunt of mercenaries and rough Cultivators.
They turned into a narrow, shadowed alleyway.
Three figures emerged from the darkness: Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue.
They had changed into the provocative, daring robes Wang Jian had ordered. They wore heavy perfume, and their sheer veils highlighted their beauty.
“Master,” Qiu Yun said, bowing. “We found them.”
“Report.”
“There is a tavern called the ‘Drunken Immortal’,” Qiu Yun explained excitedly. “It’s crowded neutral ground. Azure Sword elites have taken the main tables on the second floor, while Puppet Guild handlers are in the corner.”
She smiled behind her veil. “Tension is high. They are glaring at each other. The Azure Sword group is loud and drunk; the Puppet Guild is silent and eerie. It’s a powder keg.”
“Excellent,” Wang Jian said. “Targets?”
“Yes,” Su Ning added. “The Azure Sword leader is an arrogant youth wearing the crest of Deacon Jiao’s family—likely his nephew. He’s been bragging about his skills and eyeing the girls.”
“And the Puppet Guild?”
“Their leader is Mo Li,” Bai Xue said. “They call him a genius, but he’s antisocial and treats others like dirt. He’s been ignoring everyone, playing with a wooden spider.”
Wang Jian’s mind spun with the plan. “Perfect. A brute and a recluse. Oil and water.”
He looked at his agents. “Here is the strategy.”
“Qiu Yun, you target the Azure Sword brat. Flatter him. Make him feel like a king, then make him feel like Mo Li insulted you.”
“Su Ning, you approach Mo Li. Feign interest in his ‘art’ and get close to him.”
“And Bai Xue, you are the catalyst. Play the victim.”
He detailed the scene. “Bai Xue, walk past Mo Li and ‘accidentally’ collide with him. Spill a drink and act terrified. Pretend he grabbed you or tried to take advantage.”
He turned to Qiu Yun. “When that happens, ensure your Azure Sword ‘hero’ sees it. Tell him the puppet master is assaulting a girl. Demand he defend her honor.”
“And Su Ning,” he added darkly, “you will pretend to support Mo Li while actually fueling the fire. Use the ‘Berserker Sage’ incense I gave you. Light it nearby. It will make them irrational and flare their tempers.”
He reached into his pouch and handed Su Ning a tiny, needle-like dart that glistened with a green hue.