Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 955: Iron-Blood Hall Master Escapes

"Retreat! Break out!"

The Iron-Blood Hall Master's frantic yell sliced through the turmoil on the battlefield, a last-ditch order that marked the utter downfall of the demonic assault. Soaring over the blazing sect, the blood-red clouds of blood-qi started to scatter, ripped apart by the revival of the sect's defensive array. The ambush had clamped down hard, flipping the hunters into the hunted.

Yet Mu Lianhua had no intention of allowing the culprits behind this devastation to slip away without a fight. Her gaze, ignited by the icy blue glow of the Azure Sky-Heart Flame, fixed on the escaping demonic vessels and the panicking cultivators below.

"You came uninvited," she proclaimed, her words boosted by spiritual force, resounding like a death knell over the entire island. "You stay."

Lifting her hand with palm toward the sky, she commanded the Crimson Lotus Cauldron—which floated over the fray like a miniature moon—to rotate. It swelled rapidly, ballooning to the scale of a modest hill and sealing off the main skyward escape route toward the western ocean.

"Cauldron Art: Mountain Suppression!"

With a motion resembling brushing aside an insect, she slammed the enormous relic downward. The atmosphere howled from the rush of air. Three Demonic Deacons fleeing on their blood-swords glanced upward in dread right as the darkness swallowed them. They got pulverized on impact, their shielding items cracking like brittle shards, their forms vaporized into a haze that smeared the cauldron's exterior.

On the ground, the Fifth Order Spirit Beasts detected the panic and disorder among their foes, driving them into a wild fury.

The Black-Scaled Flood Serpent unwound from the lookout tower it had demolished. It bellowed, the noise echoing like pounding surf, and charged ahead with alarming velocity. It zeroed in on an Early Stage Core Formation Elder from the Iron-Blood Hall, who was sacrificing his blood essence to break free from the cauldron's gravitational drag.

The serpent struck quicker. Its enormous maw gaped wide.

SNAP.

The Elder had no chance to cry out. The serpent gulped him down in one go, its neck swelling as it devoured a Core Formation powerhouse. The creature's scales shimmered with a shadowy, content gleam while it processed the vast spiritual power.

At the same time, the Obsidian-Back Earth Bear tore through the lower square. It shrugged off the desperate blood-spells hurled by the withdrawing disciples, its rock-hard pelt bouncing them away without harm. Swiping with a paw as large as a wagon, it flung a cluster of five Iron-Blood disciples against a rock barrier, smearing them into a horrific pattern.

Still, the clash wasn't limited to beasts and allies. The Fragrance Melody Sect's disciples, witnessing their attackers shatter and flee, rallied with renewed vigor. Their terror shifted into a sharp, harmonious fury.

"Do not let them escape!" a Senior Sister called out, her garments ripped yet her resolve aflame. She settled into a meditative pose on a drifting lotus leaf, clutching a pipa. "Pipa Art: Ten-Sided Ambush!"

Her digits flew across the strings. The tones that emerged were piercing, abrupt, and laced with lethal purpose. Every note took shape as a golden sound edge, unseen yet slicing through the breeze with a wail.

A band of Iron-Blood disciples scrambling onto a departing shuttle got sliced apart, their frames cleaved by the melody.

Close by, a cluster of junior disciples lifted jade flutes. They unleashed a jarring, shrill tune.

"Flute Art: Spirit-Shattering Screech!"

The audio ripples warped the atmosphere. Demonic cultivators trapped in the surge gripped their skulls, crimson leaking from their ears and eyes as their inner organs burst from the vibrating waves.

Yet another team, brandishing extended silk bands charged with seductive techniques, glided amid the haze. They flowed with ghostly elegance.

"Dance of the Captivating Phantom!"

The retreating demons peeked over their shoulders and beheld not foes, but their most profound cravings. Their stares turned vacant. They decelerated, extending hands toward the alluring figures. The silk bands whipped forward, hardening like iron, coiling around throats and breaking them with a nauseating snap.

In the midst of this slaughter, Wang Jian advanced with a surgeon's accuracy and a dragon's avarice.

He wasn't striking at random. His vision, sharpened by Stellar Qi, swept over the bolting masses, selecting marks not for power, but for garb. He sought the lavish robes of the affluent, the shine of superior spatial rings, the weighty jade amulets of top deacons.

He noticed a Late-Stage Foundation Establishment Deacon in gold-threaded attire, fumbling to trigger a teleportation scroll.

"Leaving so soon?" Wang Jian muttered.

Triggering his Void-Merging Breath, he faded from view. He materialized right behind the deacon.

Slash.

His blade lopped off the deacon's scroll-holding hand, then his neck. Wang Jian snatched the detached hand, yanked the ring free, and booted the corpse aside in a seamless flow.

He shifted to the following mark. A demonic alchemist lugging a bulky pouch.

"Stellar Palm!"

He hammered the man's torso, halting his pulse in an instant without harming the pouch. He whisked the sack into his storage ring.

"Mine. Mine. Also mine."

As he reaped the riches from the intruders, Yue Lingshan directed the snare from the formation's heart. She controlled the Thousand-Petal Guardian Formation.

"You want to leave?" she whispered, her complexion ashen but resolute. "The sea does not allow it."

Adjusting the array markers, she conjured gravity sinks in the sky over the port. The escaping demonic blood-ships, their drives thundering, abruptly plunged, like seized by massive unseen grips on their frames. They smashed into the waves, their structures fracturing.

The waters encircling the Isle of Whispering Petals churned into a foamy, murky crimson, clogged with the invaders' blood.

Abruptly, a cry cut through the air by the eastern dorms.

"He’s going to self-destruct!"

A demonic deacon, hemmed in by a band of young Fragrance Melody disciples gripping zithers, grasped his hopelessness. His eyes protruded with frenzy. He started to inflate, his flesh shining with erratic, savage red radiance.

"Die with me, bitches!"

The women disciples stiffened, dread locking them in place. They were too near. They lacked time for a shielding harmony.

Wang Jian spotted the chance. It was ideal.

Dropping his present quarry, he dashed over the square.

"Get back!" he bellowed, his tone brimming with valiant urgency.

He touched down before the girls, positioning himself squarely between them and the detonating demon. He drove his sword into the earth, pouring his Qi into a protective veil.

"Stellar Shield!"

BOOM!

The demon burst. A surge of acidic blood and blasting power crashed into Wang Jian.

His barrier withstood the main impact, but he deliberately let a sliver of the energy breach it, sufficient to crack his external Qi shell and hurl him sliding back, his boots gouging lines in the rock. He hacked up a spurt of blood from his lips, letting his features drain of color.

The haze lifted. The female disciples stood unscathed, guarded by his form.

They stared at him, eyes huge. They viewed a striking, mighty figure who had leaped into danger for them. His attire hung in shreds, blood marked him, yet he remained upright and defiant.

"Senior Brother Wang!" one girl sobbed, tears flowing freely. "You... you saved us!"

"Are you hurt?" another queried, hurrying to brace him.

Wang Jian dismissed them kindly, breathing heavily for show. "I am fine... protect yourselves. The battle is not over."

The worship in their gazes dazzled. At that instant, he transcended guest status; he became their champion.

Far overhead, the Iron-Blood Hall Master watched his troops get obliterated. His elders lay slain or devoured. His deacons fell like game. And the way out was barred.

He resorted to a final gambit. He ignited half his blood essence.

"Blood Shadow Escape!"

His form melted into countless red beams, streaking every which way. Mu Lianhua's cauldron pulverized several hundred, and the Sky-Ripper Eagle shredded more, yet some rays evaded the mending array's cracks, vanishing into the darkness.

The Hall Master had gotten away, but at ruinous cost. His cultivation would plummet, and his sect lay in tatters.

Down below, the skirmish faded. The remaining demonic disciples dropped their arms, yielding, only to face swift death from the avenging Fragrance Melody women or consumption by the prowling beasts.

Quiet gradually returned to the island, interrupted solely by flickering flames and the pained moans of survivors.

Wang Jian slid his sword home. He met Chen Ying's gaze from across the square. She offered a tiny nod and fingered her storage ring. The spoils were safe.

"Regroup," Wang Jian gestured.

His companions assembled by the central square's fountain. They appeared worn—garments shredded, smeared with ash and gore—but triumphant.

Before words could pass, a white-clad shape sped from the cliffside pagoda's direction.

Hua Ling dashed over the body-littered square. She cast aside Young Mistress propriety. She disregarded her disciples' looks. Her focus locked on one individual.

"Young Master Wang!"

She arrived at his side, gasping harshly. She noted the blood on his shoulder, the stain at his lips.

"You... you’re alive," she breathed, her tone quivering.

Wang Jian offered a tired grin. "I told you I would return, Young Mistress."

Daybreak spread across the Myriad Reefs Sea Domain, tinting the heavens in gentle pinks and golds, a sharp foil to the night's bloody terror. The Isle of Whispering Petals bore wounds, structures smoldering, pits scarring the grounds, yet it endured.

As the sect's healers cared for the hurt and deacons tallied the fallen in somber duty, Wang Jian convened his close allies in the isolated wreckage of a teahouse by their quarters.

"Report," Wang Jian uttered quietly, igniting a noise-blocking talisman.

Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan dumped their interim gathering pouches onto the surface. A modest pile of storage rings, blood-jade charms, and demonic relics tumbled forth.

"The haul is... significant," Chen Ying noted, her typical composure cracking into a subtle grin. "The Iron-Blood Hall packed their finest equipment for the raid. We grabbed blood ores, shadowy relics, and about two hundred thousand high-grade spirit stones."

"We also found maps," Liu Ruyan chimed in, displaying a parchment of treated hide. "Sites of their hidden bases. And codes to their central vault."

"Excellent," Wang Jian approved with a nod. "Keep it concealed. Share the assets among yourselves afterward. Remember, we claimed nothing from the Fragrance Melody disciples. We are heroes, not looters... of friends."

He inspected his look in a fragment of reflective metal. He wrapped new dressings on his shoulder gash, ensuring the blood showed through enough for drama without seeming fatal.

"Time for the curtain call," he declared.

They stepped into the central square.

Sect Leader Hua Yimei floated down from above. She appeared drained. Her lovely features were wan, her spiritual reserves almost spent, and her graceful attire bore burn marks. But she lived, clutching her Zither close.

She alighted, teetering a bit. Mu Lianhua appeared at once, steadying her limb.

"Sect Leader," Mu Lianhua spoke softly.

Hua Yimei regarded Mu Lianhua, moisture gathering in her eyes. She clasped Mu Lianhua’s fingers.

"Sister Mu... without you... we would be ash. My sect... my daughter... you saved everything."

"We only did what was right," Mu Lianhua replied with flawless modesty, leading the Sect Leader to a rock seat. "Righteous cultivators must stand together. But... Sect Leader, it seems you have a snake in your garden. A poisonous one."

Hua Yimei’s face turned steely with raw loathing. "Elder Pang."

She hissed the title like venom. "He deserted his duty. He bolted when confronted. He is a walking corpse. I will post a reward across the whole Sea Domain. I will strip the flesh from his frame personally."

Wang Jian advanced, gripping his wrapped shoulder, grimacing faintly.

"Sect Leader," he stated, tone deferential yet serious. "During the fight... I heard the demons speaking. They mentioned ’the agreement’ multiple times. They were confused why the inner traps hadn’t been disabled. It seems... this was planned for months."

Hua Yimei’s hands balled tight. "Planned... months... while he ate our rice and leered at our daughters. That beast!"

Wang Jian’s words cemented the accusation. No uncertainty remained. Elder Pang had orchestrated their suffering.

Hua Yimei drew a steadying inhale, regaining poise. She glanced beyond Wang Jian to the colossal beasts lounging by Liu Ruyan and Chen Ying. The Sky-Ripper Eagle groomed its gore-flecked plumes. The Black-Scaled Flood Serpent lay curled in slumber, its gut swollen from feasting.

"These beasts..." Hua Yimei whispered, a tremor passing over her. "They are powerful. Fifth Order? Core Formation equivalents?"

"We are beast tamers as well as cultivators," Liu Ruyan clarified effortlessly, inclining her head. "They are our partners. We raised them from hatchlings."

The Fragrance Melody Sect's remaining disciples and elders gazed at Wang Jian’s crew with awe-filled, devoted stares. The might they had shown was irrefutable. They had reversed a hopeless fight. They surpassed mere visitors; they were the sect's saviors.

"Come," Hua Yimei urged, rising. "Let us go to the infirmary. My healers must tend to you."

The primary healing hall buzzed with motion, scented by healing plants and faint cries from the maimed. Wang Jian received a solitary chamber, as expected.

He perched on the bed's rim, torso exposed, displaying his sculpted, robust build. A veteran healer readied an ointment, but prior to application, the entrance flew open.

Hua Ling burst inside. Her visage was wiped of stains, though her eyes bore red from weeping. She bore a platter of wrappings and a basin of heated liquid.

"Young Mistress," the veteran healer curtsied.

"Leave us, Auntie," Hua Ling instructed, her speech shaky yet resolute. "I will tend to Young Master Wang myself."

The healer eyed Wang Jian, then the steadfast expression on the Young Mistress’s features, and withdrew with a bow, sealing the door.

Hua Ling placed the platter aside. She neared Wang Jian, her sight riveted to his chest, to the flexing sinews with each breath, to the sturdy limbs that had cradled her aloft.

"You shouldn’t be doing this," Wang Jian murmured gently, embodying the humble savior. "It is beneath your station."

"You saved my life," Hua Ling breathed, soaking a cloth in the liquid. Her fingers shook as she dabbed his flesh, wiping gore from the injury's edge. "You flew into the sky... you took an arrow for me. There is nothing beneath me when it comes to you."

She drew nearer. Her aroma—orchids and rain—overwhelmed Wang Jian’s awareness. He peered into her parted robes, battle-torn to expose the pale curve of her bosom and her pounding pulse.

"Your safety is paramount, Young Mistress," Wang Jian intoned, his pitch lowering. "You are the future of this sect. The flower that must be protected."

He observed her efforts. She bound the wrap around his shoulder, her frame grazing his limb.

Softly, he extended and clasped her hand, halting her.

Hua Ling stilled, her respiration catching. She lifted her gaze to his.

"Seeing you safe..." Wang Jian whispered, his thumb caressing her hand's back. "It heals me faster than any pill."

Hua Ling flushed crimson, warmth flooding her form unrelated to cultivation.

Wang Jian pressed further. His free hand shifted. It felt instinctive, almost unintended. He reached as if balancing, his palm settling on her side. Yet his digits slipped through the robe's rip, brushing the tender, smooth skin of her abdomen.

It was daring. It was claiming.

Hua Ling inhaled sharply. She ought to retreat. It was unseemly. He was wed. But the rush from the clash, the vision of his rescue, the warmth of his touch on hers... she stayed rooted. She craved the contact. She pressed toward him, lids drifting closed.

The door creaked.

Sect Leader Hua Yimei stepped in.

Hua Ling sprang away like burned, cheeks aflame. Wang Jian eased his hand back, face serene and detached.

Hua Yimei witnessed it. She saw her child clasping Wang Jian’s hand. She noted the heated flush, the closeness hanging in the space.

She offered no rebuke. She studied Wang Jian with layered emotions. Profound thanks, indeed. But also evaluation. A woman's scrutiny of a male. And a spark of ire—a parent's drive to shield her young from a threat, blended with an odd, baffling envy she swiftly buried.

"Sect Leader," Wang Jian inclined his head politely.

"Deacon Wang," Hua Yimei replied, tone even. She advanced deeper into the space. "You defended our Treasury. You saved my daughter. You decimated the enemy ranks. You have proven your loyalty beyond any doubt."

She paused for air. "The position of Head Male Elder is vacant. Elder Pang is gone, and good riddance. The Cloud-Peak Pavilion is yours. The resources allocated to the position are yours. And... you have my personal gratitude."

It marked a huge elevation. He now joined the sect's inner command.

Wang Jian rose, bowing. "I accept, Sect Leader. I will guard this sect as if it were my own. I will not let anyone harm it."

Just then, Yue Lingshan entered the room