Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 942: Causing Chaos On The Battlefield

The Iron-Root Hollow resembled a jagged wound upon the earth more than a natural valley. Situated dangerously between the Mystic Peak Sect’s second defensive perimeter and the advancing front of the Azure Sword Clan, the terrain was a chaotic mess of rust-colored stone. These sharp formations erupted from the soil like the calcified roots of a long-dead titan.

The air was thick, carrying no scent of nature, but rather the sharp sting of ozone, the stench of charred skin, and the metallic aroma of fresh blood. Violent eddies of spiritual energy swirled through the atmosphere, forming turbulent vortices capable of shredding a mortal’s clothing. However, for the cultivators engaged in this conflict, such conditions were merely the expected environment of their trade.

And business was currently thriving.

Standing atop a jagged pillar of iron-rock, Wang Jian let the fierce, Qi-saturated winds whip his robes. To any bystander from the Mystic Peak Sect, he appeared as the quintessential noble protector. His stance was one of defiance, his features set in a mask of grim resolve, and his blade—a high-grade spiritual artifact seized weeks prior—radiated a chilling blue luminescence. Beside him, Yue Lingshan maintained a focused expression, her face a picture of concentration as twelve array flags circled her like loyal satellites.

"Husband!" Yue Lingshan called out over the thunder of a nearby blast, gesturing with her sword toward the canyon below. "Look at the left flank! The Azure Sword Clan is driving a wedge through the opening! If they succeed, Deacon Li’s unit will be completely isolated!"

Wang Jian narrowed his gaze, extending his spiritual sense. He wasn't checking on the welfare of Deacon Li, but rather calculating the "profit" to be gained from the approaching enemy. He identified three potent auras spearheading the assault. They were late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators, likely carrying high-quality artifacts.

"We cannot permit such a breakthrough!" Wang Jian shouted, his voice dripping with a righteous passion that stirred the hearts of nearby Mystic Peak disciples. "For the honor of the sect! For our lands! We hold the line here!"

He threw himself from the rocky spire, falling with the intensity of a crashing star. "Lingshan, with me!"

"Always!" Yue Lingshan cried out, her heart filled with pride at her husband’s courage. She manipulated her array flags, sending them whistling downward to create a defensive zone before he even touched the ground.

They slammed into the chaos of the battlefield. The Azure Sword Clan detachment was commanded by Deacon Zhang Wei, a warrior famous for his overwhelming physical power and his 'Splitting Mountain Sword Art.' A massive man encased in heavy azure plate, he swung a giant broadsword that vibrated with the weight of a falling mountain.

"Mystic Peak curs!" Deacon Zhang Wei roared, lashing out with his weapon. A crescent of yellow sword-light, as heavy as a mountain range, surged toward the Mystic Peak defenders, threatening to obliterate a cluster of panicked Qi Condensation disciples.

"I am your opponent!" Wang Jian cried, stepping firmly into the path of the devastating strike.

Rather than meeting the blow with brute force—which he considered a waste of Qi—he employed the "Stellar Deflection Arts." His sword traced fluid, circular patterns through the air. He caught the massive wave of sword-light, guided it around his frame, and slammed it into the earth to his side.

BOOM!

The ground erupted, showering the area in stone fragments. Behind him, the Mystic Peak disciples broke into cheers.

"It is Senior Brother Wang!"

"And Senior Sister Yue! We are saved!"

Wang Jian remained indifferent to their praise, his attention locked on Zhang Wei—specifically the bulging, high-tier storage pouch at the man's waist and the refined jade pendant hanging from his neck, which pulsed with the rhythm of a defensive artifact.

"You have some talent," Deacon Zhang Wei spat, his eyes fixed on Wang Jian. "But mere skill is nothing before absolute might! You two, deal with the woman! I shall crush this boy myself!"

Two other Azure Sword Deacons, both at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, broke away to engage Yue Lingshan.

"Lingshan!" Wang Jian shouted, feigning deep anxiety.

"Focus on your fight, Jian! I can manage these two!" Yue Lingshan shouted back with fierce resolve. She slammed her palms together. "Thousand-Thread Binding Array, activate!"

Ethereal strands of emerald light burst from the earth where her flags were stationed, weaving a complex web that trapped the two advancing deacons. They struggled, hacking at the glowing lines, but Yue Lingshan’s array mastery—bolstered by the specialized pills Mu Lianhua had provided—was exceptional. She kept them pinned, turning their own momentum against them.

Wang Jian turned his attention back to Zhang Wei. "Your pride will be your end, Azure Sword filth!"

He lunged forward. The two clashed in a hurricane of sparks and kinetic shockwaves. Wang Jian carefully suppressed his power. He was playing the role of a gifted early-to-mid Foundation Establishment cultivator fighting at his absolute limit. Revealing his true Peak Middle Stage strength or his Stellar Demonic power would make the victory too quick and raise unwanted questions.

He needed this to look like a life-or-death struggle.

Zhang Wei brought his heavy blade down in a massive overhead strike. Wang Jian evaded by a hair, the wind of the pass shearing a lock of his hair. He lunged at the man’s ribs, but Zhang Wei parried with his armored forearm.

"Is this the extent of your strength?" Zhang Wei mocked, intensifying his assault.

'Just a bit more,' Wang Jian mused, his eyes tracking the movement of Zhang Wei’s storage pouch. 'Give me the opening.'

He allowed Zhang Wei to force him back, acting as though he were tiring. He feigned a stumble over a stray rock—a perfectly timed mistake.

"Perish!" Zhang Wei bellowed, seizing the chance. He hoisted his sword high, pouring his Qi into a final blow. The metal radiated a blinding yellow glow.

This was it.

As Zhang Wei lunged forward with his full weight, Wang Jian’s look of terror shifted into a cold, predatory smirk that vanished in an instant.

Wang Jian did not retreat. He moved inward.

He released a pulse of Stellar Qi through his foot, stomping the earth. It wasn't a wide attack, but a precise, localized vibration targeted at Zhang Wei’s lead foot.

The ground beneath the Deacon shifted. His balance, already committed to the heavy swing, failed him for a split second. The massive strike missed, cratering the ground inches from Wang Jian’s shoulder.

Wang Jian was already in motion. His blade, tipped with a condensed needle of Stellar Qi, whipped upward.

SHHHKT.

The steel found the narrow gap in Zhang Wei’s neck guard, slicing through windpipe and spine in a single, efficient motion.

Zhang Wei’s eyes bulged. The giant sword slipped from his failing grip.

"Your... arrogance..." Wang Jian panted heavily, ensuring the audience heard him, "is your... undoing!"

As Zhang Wei’s frame began to collapse, Wang Jian closed the distance, seemingly to catch the body or reclaim his weapon. In truth, his left hand struck like a viper.

In the heartbeat before Zhang Wei hit the dirt, shielded by the flutter of his wide sleeves and the rising dust, Wang Jian’s fingers expertly unlatched the heavy storage pouch and snapped the cord of the jade pendant.

With a quick motion, the treasures disappeared into his own spatial ring.

THUD.

Zhang Wei’s corpse hit the ground. To the witnesses, it appeared to be a heroic feat where Wang Jian had barely triumphed over a stronger opponent. To Wang Jian, it was a successful harvest.

'At least three thousand spirit stones,' Wang Jian calculated, his mind briefly scanning the loot. 'And that broadsword is High-Grade Mortal, nearly Earth-grade. The metal is valuable. Mu Lianhua can repurpose it.'

He glanced over. Yue Lingshan had finished her fight as well. Her array had tightened, crushing the two deacons until they lost consciousness, allowing her to finish them with two quick thrusts.

"Jian!" She hurried to his side, searching for injuries. "Are you alright? That was... that was Deacon Zhang Wei! His strength is legendary!"

"I am unharmed, my love," Wang Jian replied, leaning on his blade and breathing hard to maintain the facade. "Justice... has triumphed."

Nearby, the rescued Qi Condensation disciples were shouting in triumph.

"Senior Brother Wang is peerless!"

"Senior Sister Yue is a goddess of the battlefield!"

Their leader, a youth from a wealthy merchant family within the sect, approached with eyes full of hero-worship. "Senior Brother Wang! That was magnificent! The way you used his own momentum against him! It was masterfully done!"

Wang Jian offered a kind smile. His eyes, however, settled on the boy’s waist. The disciple carried an expensive storage pouch, detailed with gold embroidery. It appeared quite full.

'Wealthy parents,' Wang Jian noted. 'Too much weight for a combat zone. He will only be a hindrance.'

"You showed great courage as well, Junior Brother," Wang Jian said, patting the boy’s shoulder. As he did, he subtly planted a microscopic thread of delayed Stellar Qi into a meridian near the boy’s leg. It was harmless for now, but in an hour, it would cause a sudden, agonizing cramp—ideally when an enemy or a beast was nearby.

"Thank you, Senior Brother!" The boy beamed, completely unaware he had been marked for a future looting.

"More enemies are approaching," Wang Jian suddenly declared, looking toward the east. He sensed nothing, but he was finished with this area. The primary loot was hers, and there were too many eyes around to strip the other bodies properly. "We must fall back to the western ridge! It provides a better strategic advantage!"

"I will follow your lead, Jian," Yue Lingshan agreed, summoning her flags.

"Junior Brothers, fall back to the second line!" Wang Jian commanded. "We will lead them away!"

"Yes, Senior Brother!"

Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan mounted their flying swords and took to the sky.

Looking back as they flew, Wang Jian spotted an Azure Sword disciple, injured but conscious, watching him from near Zhang Wei’s body. The man had been close enough to perhaps notice the theft.

Wang Jian did not hesitate. He flicked his finger.

A tiny, invisible bolt of compressed air and Qi shot from the sky. It pierced the wounded disciple’s Dantian perfectly. The man twitched once and went limp.

"What was that?" Yue Lingshan asked, glancing back.

"Just a lingering energy discharge," Wang Jian said smoothly. "The battlefield's Qi is becoming unstable."

They sped toward the western ridge. Wang Jian’s face remained a mask of righteous duty, while his mind calculated the market value of the Azure Sword artifacts he had just secured.

'Sector 4 is depleted of high-value targets,' he sent a mental message through a hidden transmission talisman in his sleeve. 'Proceeding to Sector 5.'

Far from Wang Jian’s public heroics, the mood elsewhere was far grimmer.

The Foggy Forest on the southern edge of the war zone was a realm of silence and slaughter. The mist was unnaturally thick, clinging to the trees and dampening both sound and spiritual perception.

Two figures moved through the haze. They didn't fly; they glided across the forest floor, their steps silent upon the wet foliage.

Chen Ying was in the lead, wearing tight grey leathers that vanished into the fog. Her sword, 'Winter’s Sorrow,' was drawn, its blade treated with a matte finish to prevent any reflection. Her aura was entirely masked, making her little more than a ghost.

Liu Ruyan followed behind in dark green robes, her face hidden by a veil. A tiny black snake—her Black-Scaled Flood Serpent, shrunk to the size of a jewelry piece—was wrapped around her wrist, its tongue tasting the air. In her hand, she held a censer emitting a faint purple smoke.

They were on the hunt.

"Two marks," Chen Ying whispered, her voice a mere shadow of a sound. She pointed through the thicket.

Ahead, near a small stream, two Azure Sword Deacons were resting. They were visibly drained, their armor scarred. One was tending to the other’s wounded arm. They had grown complacent, relying on the mist for cover.

"Mid-stage," Liu Ruyan whispered, her eyes cold and calculating. "The one on the left has a lung meridian injury. His breathing is labored."

"The right one is mine. You take the left," Chen Ying directed.

Liu Ruyan nodded and blew gently into her censer.

A cloud of invisible, scentless gas drifted toward the deacons. It was "Spirit-Numbing Incense," a toxin she had perfected under Wang Jian’s instructions for the purpose of capturing cultivators without damaging their assets.

The gas enveloped them. The deacons didn't even notice. They simply... slowed. Their reactions became sluggish as the toxin severed the link between their minds and their Qi.

"Now," Chen Ying hissed.

She moved.

She was a blur of grey, crossing the distance in an instant. The healthy deacon on the right felt a change in the air and reached for his blade.

He was too slow.

Chen Ying’s "Seven Absolutes Sword Art" was built for efficiency. No flash, no waste. Just a single horizontal strike.

SHHHT.

The steel tore through the man's throat. He gurgled, blood spilling into the water, and collapsed.

The wounded deacon watched in terror as his comrade died. He tried to circulate his Qi to scream, but the incense made his meridians feel as though they were filled with cold sludge.

"You..." he managed to rasp.

Liu Ruyan emerged from the fog, raising a hand.

"Burn," she whispered.

A crimson flame—the Blood Spirit Flame—erupted from her palm. It wasn't a simple fire; it was a parasitic entity. It latched onto the man's healthy arm.

"AAAAHHH!" The deacon’s scream was muffled as the fire consumed him. The Blood Spirit Flame didn't just burn skin; it fed on spiritual energy and life essence. It devoured him from the inside out.

Chen Ying stepped in and ended his agony with a clean thrust to the heart.

"Quiet," she hissed coldly.

The forest returned to its deathly silence.

"Clean work," Liu Ruyan remarked, her tone clinical. She approached the corpses, inspecting them like a butcher at a market.

She stripped them with practiced ease. Storage pouches, weapons, armor—even high-quality boots were taken. She searched their pockets and found a small case of medicinal herbs.

"Star-Iron Ore," she noted, pulling a heavy dark stone from a pouch. "And a stalk of Spirit-Mending Grass. Master will be pleased."

"Everything is for Master," Chen Ying agreed, cleaning her blade on a dead man's robes. "But this isn't enough. We need more to secure the pills he promised us."

She looked at the bodies. "Waste nothing."

She tapped the beast pouch at her side. Two grey shapes leaped out—the Thunderclap Wolves. They had grown, their fur shimmering with static electricity. They eyed the meat hungrily.

"Eat," Chen Ying ordered. "Grow strong for him."

The wolves began to tear into the Foundation Establishment cultivators. Feeding on the flesh of powerful warriors was the quickest path to evolution for spirit beasts.

Liu Ruyan stroked the snake on her wrist. "Do you want your share, little one?"

The snake hissed. Liu Ruyan used a knife to remove the heart of the second deacon and fed it to the serpent, which swallowed it whole, its scales darkening with power.

They stood in the silence, two beautiful women watching their beasts feast on the fallen.

Suddenly, the brush rustled.

Chen Ying spun, her sword ready.

A man stumbled from the mist, wearing the robes of a Mystic Peak Sect Deacon. He was pale and clutching a bloody wound in his side.

"Junior Sisters!" he gasped, relieved to see their uniforms. "Thank the heavens! I am Deacon Zhao... I was ambushed... I have vital information for the Elders..."

He moved toward them, seeking safety. He failed to see the wolves eating in the shadows behind them.

Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan traded a single look. A silent consensus was reached in an instant.

He is injured. He is slow. He is a burden.

His storage pouch is high-grade. It looks full.

He is a liability.

"Of course, Senior Brother Zhao," Liu Ruyan said, her voice dripping with false concern. She stepped forward to support him. "You are safe now. Let me help you."

Deacon Zhao let out a breath, dropping his guard. "Thank you... I..."

As Liu Ruyan took his arm, Chen Ying appeared behind him like a shadow.

She didn't use her longsword. She used a specialized dagger, driving it upward into the base of his skull.

Deacon Zhao stiffened. The light left his eyes instantly. He died without realizing he had been betrayed by his own.

Liu Ruyan caught the body before it could fall. She quickly unfastened his storage pouch.

"He was too far gone," she whispered to the trees. "He never would have made it back. The trip would have been too agonizing. We are simply... protecting his assets. For the greater good."

"Master’s good," Chen Ying corrected.

They threw the body to the wolves.

"Let’s go," Chen Ying said. "I scent more prey to the south."

They vanished into the fog, leaving behind three skeletons—two enemies and one ally, all reduced to fuel for Wang Jian’s ambitions.

While Wang Jian played the hero and Chen Ying acted as the shadow, the third part of Wang Jian’s plan was unfolding elsewhere.

In a rocky gorge known as "Dead Man’s Drop," five Azure Sword disciples stood in a circle, weapons out and grins on their faces.

In the center of the