Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 940: Ye Fan’s Prestige In Battlefield

Time slowed to a crawl within the isolated valley, establishing a routine that was as treacherous as it was twisted. From the outside, or through Yue Lingshan's naive perspective, the cave had transformed into a thriving center for cultivation and mutual aid—a refuge for those fleeing a destroyed Sect. Yet, beneath this facade of righteous brotherhood lay a tangled web of manipulation, desire, and total control woven by a single man.

The internal hierarchy of the dwelling had stabilized into a rhythm that Wang Jian found deeply gratifying. He maintained his public persona as a devoted husband and capable leader, while in private, he reigned as the master of a harem that crossed different cultivation realms and social ranks.

One afternoon, taking a hiatus from his personal cultivation, Wang Jian strolled into the armory. The chamber was a frigid, silent space filled with stone shelves holding weaponry plundered from their various raids. The scent of sharpened steel and heavy oil hung in the air.

He discovered Chen Ying there. Perched on a low stool with a whetstone, she was rhythmically honing her blade, 'Winter’s Sorrow'. The steady scraping was almost hypnotic. Although she didn't look up at once, the stiffness in her shoulders revealed she was keenly aware of him. Usually, she was the freezing, distant assassin who vanished into the shadows. But here, in his private company, her composure faltered.

Ceasing her work, she laid the sword aside with shaking hands. She did not rise to offer the formal greeting of a Senior Sister. Instead, she slid from the stool and sank to her knees on the cold floor, bowing her head low and exposing the back of her neck in a display of vulnerability.

"Master..." she murmured, her voice stripped of its typical icy calm. It carried a desperate, needy tone she would never reveal to the public. "You... you have been dedicating all your time to the newcomer. To... her."

She lacked the courage to speak Mu Lianhua’s name, given the vast gap in their status, but her jealousy was obvious. She glanced up, her normally lethal eyes now filled with a pathetic, pleading hunger.

"Has... has this slave been cast aside?" she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Am I... am I no longer of use to you? Is my blade not sharp enough? Is my body no longer... satisfying?"

Wang Jian gazed down at her, a dark, pleased smirk crossing his face. He savored this contradiction. To the world, she was the formidable granddaughter of a Core Formation Ancestor and a ruthless killer. In this room, she was merely a desperate creature begging for his attention.

He moved closer, his boots echoing against the stone. He offered no soothing words. There was no need for politeness or persuasion; she was broken exactly how he wanted her.

"A warrior never overlooks his weapon, Ying’er," he replied, his voice deep and thick with authority. "And a master never forgets his belongings. I have simply been... taming a new mount. But you..."

He reached down, gripping her hair and tilting her head back to force eye contact. "You are my dagger. You are my shadow."

He hauled her up without a hint of tenderness. His touch was devoid of romance, treating her like a mere tool. He spun her around and shoved her chest-first against a weapon rack. The force made the swords and spears rattle, the metal clanging in the quiet room.

"And shadows must be reminded of who casts them," he growled.

He hiked up her skirts abruptly, gathering the fabric at her waist. She wore nothing beneath—a common occurrence lately, as she was always waiting and ready for him.

He took her right there, surrounded by cold steel and the scent of oil. It was a rough, biting encounter driven by adrenaline and absolute power. He didn't bother with preparation; her body had already betrayed her longing the moment he stepped inside.

"Master! Yes!" she gasped, her fingers clutching the wooden rack so hard her knuckles turned white.

He drove into her, his hips striking her with a bruising force. This was not the elegant, sensual experience he shared with Mu Lianhua. While Mu Lianhua was like a sophisticated, aged wine—complex and intoxicating—Chen Ying was like a harsh, cheap spirit; it burned and hit with a primal impact. While he preferred the mature, soft curves of Lianhua, there was a unique, raw satisfaction in degrading the 'Ice Queen' in this manner.

No words of affection were exchanged. Their communication consisted of gasps, the sound of skin hitting skin, and the rattling of weapons in their stands.

"Beg for it," he ordered, biting her neck hard enough to bruise.

"Please... please use me... break me..." she sobbed, her head thrown back as her pleasure blurred into pain.

This hidden encounter solidified her loyalty more effectively than any praise. She was his slave. She craved this physical, undeniable proof of ownership to feel grounded. Without his dominance, she felt lost; with it, she was anchored.

When he was finished, he provided no comfort. Adjusting his robes, he stepped away, leaving her slumped against the rack, breathless and messy, with his seed trailing down her thighs.

"Clean yourself, Ying’er," he remarked casually, as if he had just finished a light task. "Return to your patrol. I need my shadow to stay sharp."

"Yes, Master," she whispered, her eyes glowing with slavish adoration. She was satisfied.

Later that evening, while Yue Lingshan was occupied with meditation in her private room, unaware of the darkness within her home, Wang Jian headed to the guest quarters.

This was the residence of the five married women from Li Mei’s group. Officially, they served as Yue Lingshan’s maids, but in truth, they were Wang Jian’s private stock.

He entered their room without warning. They had been talking quietly while mending clothes, but they immediately scrambled to their feet, lining up like soldiers for his review.

"Master," they said in unison, bowing low. They were dressed in simple servant attire, but beneath the cloth, their mature bodies bore his marks.

He didn't bother with games here. Locking the door, he turned to them with a predatory smile.

"Time for inspection," he declared.

They served him with enthusiasm. They were genuinely thankful; the pills Mu Lianhua had distributed on his orders were working. Their skin glowed, and their internal energy was stabilizing.

He walked the line, evaluating their cultivation. He pressed his hand against the Dantian of the first woman, Li Mei.

"Good," he noted, feeling the circulating Qi. "Your foundation is hardening. The Foundation Establishment pill provided by Sect Mistress Mu is integrating well. I expect everyone to reach the peak of Qi Condensation by next week."

"Thank you, Master! It is all because of your mercy!" Li Mei panted, leaning into him as his hand moved from her belly to her breast.

He moved through them, savoring the feast of mature bodies. These women differed from the cultivators; they possessed a worldly, maternal softness and a different type of submission rooted in their roles as wives. He indulged himself, his hands wandering freely to ensure their loyalty and satisfaction. He took one on the table and another against the door, binding them to him through pleasure and the lure of power.

"Remember," he told them afterward as they helped him fix his clothes, their faces flushed. "Not a word to Lingshan. Or the Sect Mistress."

He knew Mu Lianhua wouldn't mind—she was his slave as well—but he enjoyed keeping his harem in compartments. "You are my secret garden. My private escape. Keep silent, and the pills will continue. Speak, and you return to the refugees."

"We would never say a word, Master!" they vowed, terrified of losing their comfortable new lives.

Wang Jian exited the room feeling refreshed. He returned to the main hall, looking every bit the composed cultivator.

Yue Lingshan was there, tending to flowers in a vase. She looked up and smiled, her expression radiating trust and love.

"Jian! You look revitalized. Was your cultivation successful?" she asked innocently.

"Very much so, my love," he lied effortlessly, kissing her brow. "My mind is clear."

She beamed, happily running the household, believing she had found strong allies in Mu Lianhua and sisters in the maids, unaware she was living in a den of sin ruled by the man she loved.

A week later, the mood in the dwelling shifted from domesticity to strategic war-room planning.

Chen Ying met the group in the hall. Wang Jian sat at the head of a stone table, with Yue Lingshan on his right and Mu Lianhua—acting the part of an 'Elder'—on his left. Liu Ruyan stood nearby, pouring tea.

Chen Ying held a jade slip, her face solemn.

"Senior Brother Wang, Senior Sister Yue, Elder Lianhua," she greeted them formally. "A transmission has arrived."

"From who?" Wang Jian asked, leaning in.

"My grandfather, Ancestor Chen," she said. "Sent through his disciples to the drop point. The border situation is collapsing rapidly."

She placed the slip on the table, triggering a projection of the buffer zone between the Mystic Peak Sect and the Azure Sword Clan. Red and blue lights danced across the map.

"The conflict has escalated," Chen Ying noted, pointing to hotspots. "The Mystic Peak Sect is being forced into a defensive position across the entire front."

"How? Our defensive arrays are famous," Yue Lingshan said with a frown.

"The defense isn't the problem; it's the offense," Chen Ying explained. "Our attack formations are burning through spirit stones too fast. The Azure Sword Clan has a new 'Turtle-Dragon Defensive Array' that our standard strikes can't pierce. We are draining resources hitting a wall that won't break."

"The Sect is bleeding," she added grimly. "Spirit stones, pills, talismans... the drain is massive. Outer disciple morale is failing as they are sent into a meat grinder for no gain."

She pointed to a mountain range. "The gap in experts is also growing. Their Core Formation Elders seem stronger, perhaps due to new pills or techniques. We are losing vital resource points like the Spirit Stone mines. If those fall, the war is over."

Mu Lianhua, sipping tea elegantly, added her insight with the authority of a former Sect Mistress.

"The Azure Sword Clan prioritizes combat over longevity," she observed. "Their sword arts are meant to overwhelm. Their weakness is endurance, but this 'Turtle-Dragon' array negates that, letting them rest while your forces exhaust themselves."

Wang Jian listened, his fingers tapping the table. He didn't care about the tragedy; he saw the numbers.

"Chaos is a ladder," he whispered. "If the Sect is desperate, they will pay anything for an edge. They need pills for Qi and arrays to break that defense. This is our market."

He viewed the war not as a catastrophe, but as a massive business venture—a chance to plunder the Azure Sword Clan's techniques and drain the Mystic Peak Sect's wealth.

"We won't step in yet," Wang Jian stated firmly.

"But Jian," Lingshan began, "if the Sect falls..."

"It won't fall in a week," he cut her off gently. "Let them bleed. The more desperate they become, the higher the price we can demand. If we go now, we are just soldiers. If we go when they are begging, we are saviors."

He stood up, barking orders like a general.

"Elder Lianhua, speed up pill production. Focus on 'Blood-Bursting Pills' and 'Qi-Restoration Pellets'. We need a massive stock; the Sect will pay a premium."

"Understood," Mu Lianhua nodded.

"Junior Sister Ruyan, assist her. Learn the mass-production methods. We need quantity and quality."

"Senior Sister Yue, study the Azure Sword Clan's array patterns. Find a flaw. If we crack the Turtle-Dragon, we control the war."

"I will try," Lingshan said, her eyes flashing with determination.

The harem was mobilized, not for honor, but for profit.

"We wait one month," Wang Jian declared. "Then we move."

"There is... one more thing," Chen Ying said, her voice wavering as the map flickered.

"Speak."

"The report mentions a specific anomaly on the battlefield. A single disciple."

"An anomaly?"

"Yes. A disciple named Ye Fan."

Wang Jian's eyes narrowed. He knew that name. The protagonist. The Son of Luck.

"What about him?"

"He was a nobody a year ago," Chen Ying reported. "A trash disciple. But he has already reached the Early Stage of the Foundation Establishment Realm."

"Fast, but not impossible," Lingshan noted.

"It's his combat power that is terrifying," Chen Ying corrected. "He slaughters. He has wiped out three squads of Qi Condensation disciples alone. He breaks formations single-handedly."

She took a breath. "Even Foundation Establishment Deacons are dying. He fights with a massive black heavy sword and uses a strange golden flame that melts spiritual shields like paper."

Wang Jian’s internal alarms went off. Heavy sword. Golden flame. Killing above his level. Standard protagonist traits.

"Reports say he grows stronger after every fight," Chen Ying continued. "He loots victims and heals fatal wounds in hours. The Azure Sword Clan calls him the 'Undefeatable Monster'. His fame is exploding."

"Undefeatable Monster..." Wang Jian muttered. "He has a title. That’s a problem."

"He sounds dangerous," Mu Lianhua mused. "A Golden Flame... perhaps a beast fire or a legacy?"

"He is a corpse in waiting," Wang Jian snapped, glaring at her. He didn't want his women admiring a protagonist. "Do not admire him, Elder Lianhua. He is just a pig being fattened for slaughter."

Mu Lianhua bowed her head quickly. "Forgive me." She knew she would pay for that slip later.

Wang Jian paced. 'Ye Fan is growing too fast. If I fight him now, his plot armor might save him. I don't know his secrets yet. Direct engagement is too risky.'

"Strategic avoidance," Wang Jian decided. "When we join, we find where he is and go to the opposite side. Let others wear him down. We are here for loot, not heroics."

"But," he added, "his presence proves we aren't strong enough. If freaks like that exist, we must improve."

He struck the table.

"One month. In one month, we enter the war. By then, I want everyone—Lingshan, Ruyan, Ying’er, even the Shadow Flowers—to reach the Middle Stage of Foundation Establishment. No excuses. We will use every pill and resource we stole from the Crimson Pill Sect. We will gorge on power until we can crush anything in our path."

The women nodded, their faces set. The training had begun.