Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 944: Demonic Sects Arrive

For weeks, the Spirit Mines had been transformed into a gruesome meat grinder. The ground was a churned slurry of mud and filth, while the atmosphere pulsed with the rhythmic thud of spells and the screech of clashing steel. Exhausted disciples from the Mystic Peak Sect in green and the Azure Sword Sect in blue were trapped in a weary stalemate, their mutual animosity buried under the crushing weight of endless slaughter.

A veteran of the Mystic Peak Sect, Deacon Zhou, wiped a mixture of sweat and gore from his vision. Standing on a low ridge to monitor the western flank, he roared until his throat was raw. "Maintain the formation! Their spiritual energy is wavering! Just one more charge!"

From the other side of the ravine, a Deacon of the Azure Sword Sect brandished a chipped blade. "For the Sword Ancestor! Crush them!"

For a month, they had danced to this repetitive beat: strike, retreat, reorganize, and perish.

Suddenly, that rhythm shattered.

The change didn't announce itself with noise, but with light.

The sun, descending toward the horizon, seemed to take on a sickly quality. The golden afternoon glow didn't fade into a natural dusk; instead, it bruised. A creeping, unnatural violet tint bled across the western sky, diffusing like ink through water. Moving against the wind, it consumed the clouds, warping them into bloated, heavy masses that resembled internal organs hanging in the heavens.

"What... what is that?" a young Azure Sword disciple stammered, his weapon lowering as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

"A weather technique?" a Mystic Peak disciple wondered aloud while retreating. "Is an Elder manifesting a storm art?"

Then, the scent arrived.

The battlefield always reeked of iron—the sharp tang of fresh blood. However, the sudden gust from the west brought a different odor. It was a suffocating, cloying sweetness. It smelled of funeral flowers rotting in a tomb and stagnant water in a burial chamber. It was the scent of ancient, blackened blood.

It was the unmistakable aroma of corruption.

"Status report!" Deacon Zhou barked, clutching his communication talisman. "Western Watchtower! What is the situation? Is this an Azure Sword trap?"

Static crackled from the device, followed by a high-pitched voice vibrating with a terror so profound it pierced through the magical interference.

"Deacon! They... they are everywhere! The sky... it’s splitting open! The ships... massive... bone... oh gods, the blood...!"

"Get a grip! Who is it?!"

"Demons! It’s the Dem—"

A wet gurgle cut the voice short, followed by a sound that chilled Deacon Zhou to his core—the simultaneous laughter of a thousand voices, a manic, shrill tittering that felt like glass shattering.

"Look!" someone shrieked.

Emerging from the bruised purple clouds in the west, they appeared.

These were not the graceful flying swords of the Azure Sword Sect or the refined cloud-boats of the Mystic Peak Sect. These were nightmares made manifest.

Enormous, lumbering Arks tore through the cloud cover. The lead vessel was fashioned entirely from bleached bone, held together by dark energy, with emerald ghost-fire flickering in its eye sockets. Behind it floated a ship that resembled a lake of blood, suspended by a scarlet barrier with figures treading through the gore. Then came a vessel draped in writhing pink silks, exhaling a rosy mist that stung the eyes.

Banners unfurled and snapped in the unnatural gale. They displayed sigils that every cultivator in the State of Yue had learned to dread from history books, yet prayed never to witness.

A skull shedding bloody tears. Two intertwined, naked bodies rotting into skeletons. A decaying hand clutching a lotus flower.

"The State of Qin..." Deacon Zhou whispered, his grip failing as his sword slipped from his numb fingers. "The Demonic Sects."

A primal, absolute panic tore through the front lines. This wasn't the tactical retreat of a defeated army; it was the frantic stampede of prey that had finally scented the predator.

"Run!"

"The invasion has begun! The border is lost!"

"Fall back to the main sect! Forget the mines!"

The discipline of the Mystic Peak and Azure Sword disciples vanished in an instant. Men who had been trying to slaughter one another moments ago were now fleeing side-by-side, racing east to escape the approaching shadow.

But the shadow was swifter.

Hundreds of black coffins were launched from the Bone Ark, slamming into the earth among the fleeing cultivators like falling stars. The lids exploded, and Iron-Corpse Puppets with steel-hard green skin lunged out, dismembering disciples with their bare claws.

A rain of crimson droplets fell from the Blood Ark. Wherever the liquid touched skin, it hissed and burned like potent acid.

"AAAAHHH! Save me! It’s consuming me!"

The battlefield turned into a slaughterhouse. The metallic scent of war was drowned out by the stench of decay and the sickly sweet perfume of the pink mist rolling over the hills. The struggle for the mines was finished. The struggle for survival had commenced.

Miles away, at the mouth of the hidden Iron-Root Hollow, Wang Jian stood upon a rocky ledge. Clad in his battle armor, his face remained grim as he stared toward the west.

The tremors in the earth had reached this distance. Above them, the sky was stained with that same sickly purple hue.

"Husband?" Yue Lingshan approached him, her face drained of color. "The natural spiritual energy... it’s in chaos. It feels... polluted."

Wang Jian gave a slow nod. "Something catastrophic has occurred at the border."

He turned to the group assembled at the cave entrance. "Lingshan, engage the Level Four defensive arrays. Lock down the cave. No one enters or leaves until my return. Senior Sister Chen," he looked toward Chen Ying, "mobilize the Shadow Flowers. Maintain a perimeter defense only. Do not engage any unknown entities."

"Understood, Senior Brother," Chen Ying answered, her hand white-knuckled on her hilt.

"Elder Lianhua," Wang Jian said, maintaining a respectful, formal tone in front of his wife. "Your expertise is needed. Will you join me for a scouting mission? As the strongest among us, I may require your protection against high-level threats."

Mu Lianhua, veiled and wearing dignified dark blue robes that masked her form, nodded with grace. "It is my responsibility, Deacon Wang. I shall go with you."

"Be safe, Jian," Yue Lingshan murmured, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I am always careful," he assured her.

Wang Jian and Mu Lianhua set off, flying low and using Wang Jian’s Void-Merging Breath to stay nearly invisible against the darkening land. They avoided the main conflict—that would be a death sentence—and instead headed for a high vantage point overlooking the western valley that Wang Jian had previously identified.

They touched down on the peak, crouching behind a massive stone. Wang Jian immediately deployed a small concealment formation.

Then, they surveyed the valley below.

Wang Jian’s eyes widened. Despite his cynical nature, the magnitude of the invasion was staggering. The demonic armada filled the horizon. The sheer volume of evil Qi emanating from the host was enough to kill the grass on the plains below.

"What in the hells..." Wang Jian whispered. "Who are they? This isn't just a raid. This is an annihilation force."

Mu Lianhua scrutinized the banners, her eyes narrowing behind her veil. She didn't look afraid; she looked analytical. Having governed a sect for centuries, she recognized the major players, even those from neighboring lands.

"The State of Qin," she remarked, her voice steady yet heavy. "These are the Five Great Demonic Sects."

She gestured toward the massive vessel of stitched bone. "That is the Nether Bone Hall. They are experts in necromancy and bone-forging. Their disciples transform their own bodies into living weapons."

She pointed to the ship that looked like a floating lake of blood. "The Blood Soul Pavilion. They are heartless, cultivating by immersing themselves in the fresh blood of other cultivators. They can even control the blood inside a living victim."

"And that one?" Wang Jian asked, indicating the ship draped in pink silks where figures could be seen in lewd embraces.

"The Joyous Harmonious Sect," Mu Lianhua said with a hint of loathing. "They practice dual cultivation, but of the predatory kind. They extract the Yin or Yang from their prey until they are nothing but husks. They use desire as a toxin."

"And the others... the Yin Corpse Sect with their coffins... and the Ten Thousand Poison Valley with those purple banners."

She looked at Wang Jian. "They have arrived in full strength. This is an invasion fleet. They must have been waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Wang Jian inquired, though he had a strong suspicion.

"For the State of Yue to bleed itself dry," she clarified. "Consider the situation. The Crimson Pill Sect is gone, its leadership broken. The Mystic Peak Sect and the Azure Sword Clan have been embroiled in a brutal conflict for months, wasting resources and losing Elders. The Hundred Beast Manor is isolated, and the Silent Puppet Guild only cares for profit."

"The righteous sects are at their absolute weakest," Wang Jian concluded, a cold smirk touching his lips. "The timing is perfect."

"Indeed," Mu Lianhua agreed. "The demonic sects of Qin have wanted Yue’s resources for ages, but they feared our five sects combined. Now? We are divided. They smell blood."

Wang Jian watched the carnage. A group of Mystic Peak disciples was being devoured by a swarm of toxic insects from the Ten Thousand Poison Valley. It was a bloodbath.

"They are merciless," Wang Jian observed. "Look at that fog... it’s dissolving their artifacts."

"That is the Corrosive Yin Mist," Mu Lianhua noted. "A trademark of the Poison Valley."

Suddenly, a shockwave rippled through the air. A massive blast erupted near the front lines as a Mystic Peak Elder chose self-detonation to halt a Blood Soul advance.

The shockwave hurtled toward their peak, a wall of debris and dust.

"Shield," Wang Jian said calmly.

Mu Lianhua reacted instantly, stepping in front of him. Her aura flared with brilliant azure light. She raised her hand, and a semi-circle barrier of Azure Sky-Heart Flame manifested.

BOOM.

The shockwave struck the barrier and flowed around them like a river around a boulder. The mountain trembled, but they remained unharmed.

Wang Jian watched her from behind. The wind molded her robes to her form, highlighting the curve of her hips and the slenderness of her waist. Even amidst an invasion, his desire remained a constant force.

He moved closer, pressing his chest against her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hidden by the folds of his cloak.

"Excellent reaction, Pet," he whispered into her ear, dropping the formal 'Elder' title now that they were alone.

Mu Lianhua shivered as the heat of her flames mingled with the warmth of his body. "Thank you... Master."

His hands traveled upward, finding her ample breasts. He squeezed them firmly, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive, grounding force.

"Look at that disaster," he murmured, nodding toward the battle while his thumbs teased her through the cloth. "Most would see a tragedy. Do you know what I see?"

"What do you see, Master?" she exhaled, leaning back into him.

"Opportunity," Wang Jian smirked. "The greatest market in the world just opened. Chaos is a ladder, Lianhua. And these demons... they brought plenty of loot."

He fondled her with aggression, savoring the contrast between the carnage below and the pleasure he was taking. "The righteous sects will become desperate. They will pay any price for pills, arrays, or intel. And the demonic sects... they will be overconfident. They will overextend. And when they fall, their storage rings will be packed with treasures from Qin."

He nipped her neck lightly. "We are going to become incredibly wealthy."

"Yes, Master," she moaned softly.

"But first," he said, stepping back to adjust his attire. "We need more data. I want to gauge the strength of their Nascent Soul ancestors. And I want to see if the Mystic Peak Sect still has any fight left."

They returned to their observation.

Below, the battle was shifting. The initial panic was settling. Beacons of light flared from the rear of the Mystic Peak lines—the signal fires for the Reserves.

"Look," Mu Lianhua pointed. "The Grand Elder of the Mystic Peak Sect has arrived."

A figure standing on a massive, glowing sword appeared above the lines, radiating an aura that warped the air—Nascent Soul.

"And there," she indicated the Azure Sword lines. Another figure, wreathed in blue lightning, rose up.

"The ancestors have awakened," Wang Jian noted. "Good. Let the giants clash. We will move between their feet and gather the crumbs."

He turned his attention to the Joyous Harmonious Sect’s vessel. He could see beautiful women in revealing silks dancing on the deck, weaving spells that made the defenders hesitate, their eyes filling with lust before they were struck down.

"That sect..." Wang Jian pondered, licking his lips. "Their methods involve harvesting Yang and Yin. They must possess incredible cultivation manuals for... dual cultivation."

Mu Lianhua noticed his expression and felt a surge of jealousy. "They are degenerate, Master. They leave their partners as dried shells."

"I don’t plan on being drained," Wang Jian laughed. "But I do plan to learn. And perhaps... recruit some new... staff for our household."

He gave her buttock a squeeze. "Don't worry. You are still the Queen. But a King requires a variety of subjects."

He watched a while longer, studying the tactics. The Demonic Sects were aggressive, utilizing fear and rot. The Righteous Sects were defensive, relying on formations.

"The Silent Puppet Guild and the Hundred Beast Manor won't stay out of this," Mu Lianhua analyzed. "If Yue falls, they lose everything. They will join the fray."

"Exactly," Wang Jian agreed. "A four-way free-for-all. Perfect."

He turned away from the ledge. "We've seen enough. The invasion is real. The threat is immense. And the opportunity is golden."

"Let's return," he commanded. "We need to prepare the household and pivot our strategy. We aren't just hunting patrols anymore. We're going to be war profiteers."

They flew back toward the Iron-Root Hollow.

Upon landing, Yue Lingshan ran out, her face pale. "Jian! The sky... the reports... they say the border has fallen!"

Wang Jian stepped forward, his face a mask of solemn, righteous concern as he held her shoulders.

"It is true, Lingshan," he said gravely. "The Demonic Sects of Qin have invaded. This is a calamity."

He looked at his gathered harem—Chen Ying, Liu Ruyan, the Shadow Flowers, and the maids. They all looked terrified.

"But fear is useless," he declared, his voice full of authority. "This is merely a larger board with more pieces."

He led them into the main cavern and spread out a large map.

"We are changing our tactics," he announced. "We can no longer just hunt stragglers. The battlefield is becoming a slaughterhouse. But in a slaughterhouse, there is always meat to be found."

He pointed to the map. "The Mystic Peak and Azure Sword will be forced to unite, or they will perish. The Demonic Sects will try to drive them apart. We..." he grinned, "...we will play all sides."

"We will sell 'intelligence' about the demons to the Righteous sects," he plotted. "We will lure Demonic units into Righteous traps and loot the bodies of whoever dies."

He looked at the Shadow Flowers. "I want specific intel on the Joyous Harmonious Sect. Their manuals. Their cauldrons. Find them, but do not engage. They are masters of seduction; do not fall for their tricks."

"Yes, Master!" Qiu Yun replied, her eyes bright.

"Lingshan," he turned to his wife. "Strengthen the arrays. Use everything we’ve looted. If a Demonic Sect finds us, we must be able to kill them instantly or escape. Turn this place into a death trap."

"I will," she promised.

"The maids stay inside," he ordered Li Mei. "No exceptions. The demons will seize mortals for fuel and sacrifice. You are only safe in here."

He looked at the map of the State of Yue.

"When the dust settles," Wang Jian said softly, "I want to be the one standing on the pile of corpses, holding the keys to every sect’s treasury."

"Do we fight for the State of Yue?" Mu Lianhua asked quietly, playing her role as the concerned Elder.

Wang Jian looked at her, his eyes cold and hard.

"We fight for us," he corrected. "If the State of Yue burns, we will warm ourselves by the flames. If the sects fall, we will build our castle from their ruins."

He paused, a thought crossing his mind. 'Ye Fan...'

'With the Demonic Sects here, a 'hero' like Ye Fan will shine even brighter. He will be on the front lines, throwing himself at the strongest demons to protect the innocent. That might be his downfall... or his rise. I need to watch him. If he gets overwhelmed... I might just help him into the grave.'

"Rest tonight," Wang Jian commanded his women. "Eat well. Cultivate. Tomorrow, the real war begins."

The sound of distant war drums echoed over the hills—deep, resonant, sounding like the heartbeat of a demon god. It signaled the end of minor skirmishes and the arrival of the apocalypse.

Wang Jian smiled. He was ready.