Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 936: Looting The Herbal Garden Entirely

The massive stone slab of the maintenance entrance slid shut, sealing them inside with a heavy, echoing thud.

Total darkness immediately enveloped the pair. The air was thick and stagnant, carrying the scent of damp soil, ancient roots, and centuries of abandonment. It was a heavy, suffocating silence that felt completely severed from the world outside.

Without a moment's delay, Wang Jian lifted his right hand. A small, intense ball of Stellar Qi flared to life within his palm.

The cold, silver radiance cast long, flickering shadows against the mossy, moisture-slicked walls of the narrow corridor.

The passage was cramped, clearly designed for ancient workers rather than two stealthy cultivators. Its tight dimensions forced them to move in single file.

“The path is yours to show, Sect Mistress,” Wang Jian whispered, his voice resonating softly in the confined space. “Lead the way.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua gave a silent nod. She was clad in a form-fitting, black night-suit that Wang Jian had insisted she wear. The material clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every provocative curve of her mature body—the impressive swell of her chest, her slender waist, and the generous, tempting flare of her hips.

She stepped forward into the murky depths.

Wang Jian followed immediately, keeping a very close distance.

He moved right behind her, his chest grazing her back with every step.

“It is dark in here,” he breathed into her ear, his warm breath making her skin tingle. “The ground is uneven. You wouldn't want to trip.”

He placed his hands firmly upon her shapely buttocks. He didn't merely rest them there; he gripped the soft, yielding flesh through the thin black fabric, his fingers digging in.

“I shall... support you,” he murmured, a hint of dark mischief in his voice. “To ensure you don’t stumble.”

A shiver ran through Sect Mistress Lianhua. The feeling of his large, heated palms claiming her in this dark, forbidden tunnel sent a wave of heat straight to her core.

“Thank you... Jian,” she replied in a breathless whisper. Far from pulling away, she leaned back into him, pressing her rear firmly against his hands as she leaned into his possessive, steadying grip.

She began to navigate them deeper into the shadows. “Follow me. The primary tunnel was collapsed a hundred years ago to keep it hidden. We have to use this smaller branch... over here.”

As they progressed, Wang Jian’s hands remained active.

He slid his palms up from her backside, tracing the curve of her hips while his thumbs kneaded firm circles into her soft skin. He seized her narrow waist, pulling her back against his frame with every stride.

Leaning in, he pressed his chest hard against her back. He allowed his turgid member to grind against the crease of her buttocks, creating a rhythmic friction that synced with their movement.

“This is quite... provocative, Lianhua,” he whispered, grazing her neck with a light bite. “Infiltrating your own sect in such attire, while I hold you like this.”

Lianhua’s face flushed a deep red. The friction was becoming unbearable. “Please, Jian... we must stay focused,” she pleaded weakly.

However, her body betrayed her words. She arched back against his groin, a soft, airy moan escaping her as he brushed against a sensitive spot.

“Focus on this,” he growled, tightening his grip on her waist.

They ventured further into the depths. The tunnel system was a complex relic from the sect’s earliest days, built to control the flow of spiritual waters. It was a true labyrinth.

Suddenly, the Verdant Eternal Spring Essence within Wang Jian’s veins began to hum. It vibrated in response to something ahead.

“We are near,” he whispered. “The life force... it is incredible. I can feel its pulse.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua came to a stop at a dead end. It appeared to be nothing more than a wall of packed dirt and gnarled, thick roots.

“This is the place,” she said quietly. “The original irrigation vent. It should lead out right at the base of the Spirit-Gathering Tree.”

“Step back,” Wang Jian ordered.

He moved past her, his body brushing intentionally against hers. He avoided using any flashy techniques that might set off security wards.

Instead, he placed his palm flat against the earth. He channeled his Stellar Qi, making it vibrate at an incredibly high frequency.

Rather than blasting through, he disintegrated the barrier. He caused the soil particles to vibrate until they simply loosened and crumbled away like dry sand.

He carved out a small hole, just wide enough for them to squeeze through, the noise masked by the constant, low hum of the garden’s protective arrays above.

He glanced back at her. “After you, my dear.”

But before she could pass, he reached out and gave her backside one final, firm, possessive squeeze.

They crawled out from beneath the massive, intertwined roots and emerged into the center of the core medicinal garden.

The atmosphere changed instantly. The air was thick and heavy, saturated with spiritual energy so dense it felt like a liquid against their skin. The fragrance of countless rare herbs hit them—a dizzying, powerful perfume.

They stood in a small clearing, and right before them stood the ultimate prize.

The Spirit-Gathering Tree.

Though not as massive as a world tree, it radiated ancient power. Its bark resembled rippling, solid green jade, and its leaves glowed with a soft, ghostly white light that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. It was the heart of the garden's power and the anchor for the local ley lines.

“Stop! Who is there?”

A gruff voice broke the silence.

Two men stepped out from behind the jade trunk. They didn't wear the ornate robes of Fu Yan’s new guard; they were grizzled old men in faded deacon robes.

Lianhua gasped in surprise. “Elder Pao? Elder Xi?” she whispered. “They... they were supposed to be neutral! They retired years ago! Fu Yan must have forced them into service to guard this place!”

The two elders blinked, their eyes bulging as they recognized the intruders. “Sect Mistress?!” Elder Pao stammered. “You... you are alive?!”

Before they could cry out or raise an alarm, Wang Jian moved.

He became a blur of speed.

“Asura’s Phantom Step.”

He vanished from sight, becoming a mere flicker of shadow—a ghost within the garden.

He reappeared instantly behind Elder Pao.

THWACK.

A precise, heavy strike with the edge of his hand hit the back of the neck. He surged a paralyzing burst of Stellar Qi into the elder's nerve cluster.

Elder Pao’s eyes glazed over, and he slumped to the ground silently.

Elder Xi tried to spin around and gather his Qi.

THWACK.

Wang Jian was already there. He struck the second deacon with the same cold efficiency. Elder Xi collapsed, unconscious but alive.

The entire encounter lasted less than a second.

Sect Mistress Lianhua stared, her mouth slightly open. “You... you are only at the Foundation Establishment realm. They were too. Late stage! But your speed... your precision... it was perfect. They didn't even have time to react.”

Wang Jian stood over the fallen men, calmly adjusting his sleeves. He gave her a smirk. “I possess my own secrets, Lianhua. And I have no patience for delays.”

He dragged the two unconscious elders into the tunnel they had just used. “Sleep well, old men.”

He turned his attention back to the tree.

Approaching slowly, he felt the massive, pure life and wood essence radiating from it. It felt like a siren call to his own power.

‘This...’ his mind buzzed with anticipation. ‘This is what I need. This energy can push my Verdant Essence to a new height. And the sap... once refined... the "Celestial Void Ocular Arts"... I will have Spirit Eyes that can pierce any illusion and track the flow of energy itself...’

He felt the urge to sit down and begin absorbing it immediately.

“We cannot cultivate here,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed greed. “It would take days, and the energy spikes would alert the entire sect.”

He looked down at the sprawling root system.

“We are taking the entire thing,” he announced. “Roots, soil, everything.”

“The whole tree?” Lianhua asked, stunned. “But the roots go so deep.”

“Not for much longer.”

Wang Jian shoved his hands deep into the soil at the base of the jade trunk, his arms sinking in up to his elbows.

He focused his Stellar Qi. He didn't use it for destruction, but for isolation. He formed a perfect, spherical blade of force beneath the earth, slicing through the surrounding ground and severing the smaller roots while keeping the main ball intact.

His muscles bulged as he gritted his teeth.

“UP!”

With a massive heave powered by his cultivation, he pulled.

The earth groaned. The twenty-foot-tall, shimmering jade tree trembled.

Then, with a heavy, wet sucking sound, it broke free. He hoisted the entire tree, along with a massive sphere of glowing spirit soil, clean out of the ground.

He immediately thrust it into his high-grade spatial pouch—the one with the massive interior he had specifically prepared.

WOOSH.

The tree disappeared.

The atmosphere in the garden shifted instantly. The level of spiritual energy plummeted, and the heavy density vanished.

“It is done,” Wang Jian said, brushing the dirt from his hands.

“Now,” he added, surveying the meticulously kept garden. “We finish what we started.”

The garden, once a paradise, now looked drained. Without the influence of the central tree, the lesser herbs were already starting to wilt, sensing the loss of their source.

Lianhua looked at the rows of rare flora, her expression hardening. “He coveted this garden,” she whispered coldly. “He murdered my elders for this. He shall have nothing.”

“Precisely,” Wang Jian agreed. “We leave him with nothing but barren earth.”

They moved through the garden like a plague of locusts.

Lianhua pointed out the most valuable targets. “The Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng... there. The Azure Spirit Lotus in that pond... take them.”

Wang Jian worked quickly, ripping the plants out. He didn't bother with careful harvesting; he took them roots and all, tossing them into his pouch.

“The Nine-Leaf Soul Grass,” Lianhua directed.

“Got it.”

They didn't stop at mature plants; they took the seedlings and the fresh sprouts as well.

Wang Jian even went as far as to scrape up the top layer of rich, spirit-infused soil from the most fertile beds.

“Leave nothing behind,” he commanded. “I want this place to be a wasteland.”

Within twenty minutes, the core garden was a ruin of overturned soil and gaping holes.

“This isn't quite enough,” Wang Jian said, looking at the mess. “He deserves a... parting gift. A message.”

He reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of thin, wicked black needles. He had taken them from the Silent Puppet Guild members during the earlier ambush.

He then produced a small vial of clear liquid—the delayed-action paralytic toxin Liu Ruyan had crafted.

He carefully coated the needles.

He walked to the massive crater where the Spirit-Gathering Tree had stood.

He buried the needles just beneath the surface of the loose dirt around the edge of the hole.

“The first person to check this hole,” he explained with a malicious grin, “the first one to send their spiritual sense into the earth to see where the roots went... they will trigger these. The needles will fly out.”

He chuckled. “They won't kill, but they will paralyze the investigator for at least three days. It will cause beautiful confusion.”

He wasn't finished. He hopped down into the pit.

At the very bottom, in the packed earth, he used his finger to etch a single, intricate rune. It was a crude but recognizable imitation of a Puppetry Control Sigil—the kind the Silent Puppet Guild utilized to bind spirits.

“When Fu Yan sees his garden in ruins,” Wang Jian said as he climbed back out, “when he finds his deacons alive but unconscious... and then sees this rune and those needles...”

He smirked. “He won't just be furious. He’ll be suspicious. He will believe the Silent Puppet Guild tried to steal the tree for themselves. He’ll think they betrayed him to claim the ultimate wood-attribute treasure for their own puppet cores.”

“Even the Azure Sword Clan,” he added, “will suspect the Puppet Guild of double-crossing them to keep the wealth.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua watched him, her eyes gleaming with a dark, vengeful respect. “You... you are truly devious, Jian. You overlook nothing.”

Caught up in the moment, she pulled him into a deep, heated kiss right there in the center of the ruined garden.

Wang Jian kissed her back, his hands quickly sliding beneath her tight black suit. He cupped her large breasts, squeezing the firm flesh that was compressed by the fabric. They felt even heavier and fuller in his grip.

“We have to move,” he murmured against her lips, though his hands continued to knead her chest. “The Scripture Hall is next.”

“Wait,” Lianhua said, pulling away while catching her breath. “One more stop here. The cold-storage caves.”

“Caves?”

“The real treasures,” she whispered.

She led him toward a sheer cliff at the back of the garden. It appeared to be solid rock covered in vines.

She took out a token—the Sect Master’s Token—and pressed it against a specific stone.

The air rippled. A powerful illusion dissolved, revealing a hidden cave entrance that was sealed with thick ice.

“Even Fu Yan is unaware of this place,” she said. “This was the Founder’s private vault.”

They stepped inside.

The cold was biting and intense. The cave walls were plated in thick, blue spiritual ice.

But it was the contents that made Wang Jian’s eyes widen.

There were shelves carved directly from ice. On them, encased in blocks of crystal-clear Amber-Ice, were herbs.

There were thousands of them.

However, they were all very small.

“These...” Wang Jian frowned. “They are just seedlings.”

“They are Divine-Grade seedlings,” Lianhua corrected him with reverence. “Phoenix Blood Vines. Dragon-Marrow Grass. Heaven-Bridging Flowers. They take millennia to reach maturity. The Founder planted them, but they grow so slowly they are still just sprouts.”

“But the potential...” she whispered. “If they could ever be matured... a single leaf would be worth an entire city.”

Wang Jian’s heart raced. ‘Divine Grade? And they are seedlings? That is... perfect!’

He looked at his palms. ‘My Verdant Eternal Spring Essence accelerates growth. If I plant these in my own space... if I nourish them with my essence... I can mature them. I can have Divine Herbs in years instead of millennia.’

“We are taking them,” he said, his voice thick with greed. “Every single one.”

They emptied the cave, taking every block of Amber-Ice.

Wang Jian didn't stop there. He looked at the frozen walls.

“This ice...” he muttered. “It is Thousand-Year Spirit Ice. It is saturated with Ice Essence.”

He took out a tool and began hacking at the walls, gathering chunks of the glowing blue ice. “This will be ideal for forging a Yin-attribute spiritual weapon.”

He stripped the cave completely bare.

He turned back to Sect Mistress Lianhua. She was shivering in the intense cold, her nipples hard and prominent through the thin black suit.

He grinned. “You are freezing.”

“A... a bit,” she confessed.

He pulled her into his arms. He didn't give her a cloak. Instead, he reached inside her suit, his warm hands seizing her ice-cold breasts.

“Let me warm you,” he whispered.

He leaned down, burying his face in her chest. He sucked on her cold, firm nipples, biting them softly, his hot mouth a sharp contrast to her chilled skin.

“Ah! Jian!” she moaned, the sensation both shocking and intensely arousing.

He fondled her massive globes, warming them with the friction of his hands while his mouth explored her flesh. He treated her as his prize—his reward for a successful heist.

“Good girl,” he murmured against her skin.