Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 956: Recovery Pills

The first rays of dawn spilling across the Isle of Whispering Petals didn't merely light up a healing sect; they revealed a fresh era unfolding.

After the chaotic "Night of Broken Strings," the Cloud-Peak Pavilion had changed completely over those weeks. No longer just a fancy spot for visitors, it now served as the lively core of the Fragrance Melody Sect, pulling focus like the Sect Leader’s Orchid Palace itself. Disciples who once shunned men now gazed at the pavilion with deep respect, almost like devotees.

Wang Jian positioned himself on the wide terrace of the pavilion, arms folded behind him, gazing down at the foggy valleys. His attire consisted of top-quality spirit-silk robes, adorned with faint star motifs—a present from the Sect Leader personally. Authority seemed to vibrate in the air near him. Officially, he held the title of Head Male Guest Elder, acting as protector and guide. In reality, his sway reached into every part of the sect's daily workings.

"Husband," a gentle voice summoned.

Yue Lingshan approached the terrace, clutching a jade scroll. Her features shone with the joy of success. She wasn't simply the spouse of a strong cultivator anymore; she had risen to become the "Array Mistress" of the Fragrance Melody Sect.

"The southern node's fixes are done," she announced, her gaze sparkling. "I went ahead and merged the Thousand-Petal Guardian Formation with the island's waterfall ley lines. Defenses are up by twenty percent now. A Mid-Stage Core Formation expert couldn't slip through without notice."

Wang Jian pivoted, showing a real grin of approval. He extended a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You've excelled, Lingshan. Your skills in formations are really shining through. The sect's security is thanks to you."

"They show me so much honor," Lingshan replied, pressing closer to his touch. "The formation experts here... they regard me like a true grandmaster. It's... nice, yet a bit much."

"Savor it," Wang Jian urged quietly. "You deserve every bit."

In the training areas below, clashes from drills rang out. Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan oversaw the morning session. The women disciples, previously dedicated only to music and allure, now mastered the sharp precision of swordplay and the fierce use of flames. Known as the "Enforcers" by the disciples, they were revolutionizing the sect's fighting style. Chen Ying's icy, cutting discipline paired with Liu Ruyan's passionate yet friendly guidance had turned them into idols for the youth.

"We're secure at last," Lingshan whispered, eyeing the calm landscape. "After years on the move, it finally feels like we can stay put."

Wang Jian pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We're not fleeing anymore, my love. We're constructing something solid."

Yet as Wang Jian portrayed the caring spouse and noble defender under the sun, darker truths lurked in the Cloud-Peak Pavilion's shadows, ones that could destroy the sect's recent calm.

Within the pavilion, opulent excess filled the space. The five wedded maids, with Li Mei at the forefront, glided through the corridors, overseeing a home that felt more like a haven of pleasure than a simple dwelling. Exotic spirit fruits from ocean depths, wines matured in coral vaults, and fabrics spun from moon-moth threads arrived each day—offerings from a grateful sect to its rescuers.

Wang Jian parted from Lingshan's studies and ventured down to the forbidden lower levels of the pavilion, heading for the Alchemy Hall.

The Cloud-Peak Pavilion's Alchemy Hall featured enhanced sound-blocking arrays and fire-trapping wards. To outsiders, it stood as a holy site for remedies, where esteemed Alchemist Mu Lianhua and her apprentices labored endlessly on potions for the injured.

But inside, the atmosphere hung heavy with the rich, sugary aroma of herbs, blended with the raw scents of perspiration and intimacy.

A huge cauldron dominated the room's center, its inner fire blazing steadily, tongues of flame dancing along the metal. Yet the alchemists handling it wore no proper garments.

They stood bare.

Mu Lianhua, once the poised Sect Mistress and now the honored "Grand Alchemist," bent over a preparation bench, her full, ripened form shining under the glow of flames. Her complexion burned a vivid pink, breaths coming in harsh gasps.

Wang Jian positioned himself behind her. His fingers dug into her broad, yielding hips, his form driving against hers in steady pulses as he entered her deeply from the rear.

"Stay sharp, Elder Mu," Wang Jian rumbled near her ear, nipping at her throat. "The Purple-Spirit Grass heat is falling. Lose your concentration, and this whole lot's wasted."

"N-no... Master..." Mu Lianhua whimpered, neck arched back, her full bosom bouncing with each thrust. Her fingers shook as she directed spiritual energy to the cauldron, fighting to hold the alchemy's fragile equilibrium amid the assault on her body. "I... I've got it handled... ah!"

To Wang Jian’s side, Liu Ruyan perched on the workbench's rim, thighs parted broadly, her digits teasing her own folds while she observed with eager, misty stares. She awaited her moment, her skin gleaming with oil and moisture.

"Extraction done, Ruyan?" Wang Jian inquired, maintaining his pace with Mu Lianhua.

"Yes, Master," Liu Ruyan breathed out, tone thick with desire. "The essence... it's clean. Set for blending."

This formed their daily pattern. Over the last three months, masking it as pill production for recovery, Wang Jian had made the Alchemy Hall his private realm of delight. He claimed that peak excitement, blending Yang force with the herbs' Yin, boosted the elixirs' strength—or at least, that's what he shared with them.

Still, real progress happened amid the indulgence.

They cranked out two kinds of pills in bulk. Publicly, these were the Jade-Marrow Rebirth Pill—a strong restorative that mended shattered bones and rebuilt meridians—and the Nine-Cycle Spirit Tempering Pill, aiding cultivators to solidify bases after harm.

But Wang Jian included an extra element.

"The tracer," Wang Jian muttered, withdrawing from Mu Lianhua and spinning her to claim her lips in a fierce kiss. "You included it?"

Mu Lianhua slumped against the bench, limbs quivering, bosom rising and falling as she cleared sweat from her brow. She dipped her head, gaze sharpening a touch. "Yes. All top-tier pills for Elders and Deacons carry the Shadow-Tracing Qi. It's invisible, scent-free, and melts into the dantian when swallowed. No damage to them, but you'll track their positions up to a thousand miles away."

"Excellent," Wang Jian grinned, giving Liu Ruyan’s leg a smack as she leaped down to manage the flames. "Information means control. Should betrayal stir or hidden talks occur... I'll detect it."

"You're wicked," Mu Lianhua breathed, though she molded her form to his, embracing tightly. "Tricking them even as you protect them."

"I'm meticulous," Wang Jian amended. His palms glided along her spine, seizing her rear. "And on that note of detail... we're diverting thirty percent of the herbs, right?"

"Yes," Liu Ruyan called from the cauldron, attention locked in. "We label them 'failed refinements' or 'contaminants.' The Sect Leader lacks deep alchemy knowledge to doubt the loss rate. We've gathered supplies to sustain our cultivation for a full year more."

"Ideal."

A bell tone rang from the entry array. An visitor neared the outer gate.

The room's vibe changed in a flash. Wang Jian pulled away. With a gesture, a purification charm swept their forms, erasing traces of sweat and essence. Garments darted from storage, cloaking them swiftly.

When the sturdy doors groaned apart, Mu Lianhua positioned herself by the cauldron, appearing the weary, committed Grand Alchemist. Liu Ruyan arranged herbs with keen accuracy. Wang Jian polished a pestle, mimicking a hardworking aide.

Sect Leader Hua Yimei entered.

She appeared luminous. The invasion's strain had lifted, swapped for the shine of a commander watching revival. Her pale lavender gown flowed, accentuating her shape with grace and presence.

"Sister Mu," Hua Yimei greeted kindly, scanning the space. "I hope I'm not intruding. Disciples mentioned you've been holed up here three days nonstop."

"Sect Leader," Mu Lianhua inclined her head, tone rough from 'exhaustion.' "We're wrapping the last run of Jade-Marrow Rebirth Pills. Outer disciple wounds proved worse than expected; we boosted the strength."

Hua Yimei's look warmed with thanks. "You push yourself too far for us. The Fragrance Melody Sect owes you deeply."

Mu Lianhua denied it with a shake, offering a soft smile. She pointed to Wang Jian. "Don't credit just me, Sect Leader. Deacon Wang labored through nights, infusing his Stellar Qi to steady the heat. Lacking his stamina, these herbs would've burned to nothing."

Hua Yimei shifted her attention to Wang Jian. She noted the 'weariness' in his eyes, how he rested against the bench like it bore his strain.

"Deacon Wang," she murmured gently. "You give so much to a sect outside your own."

Wang Jian bowed low, exuding modesty and devotion. "Sect Leader Hua, your sect gave us refuge amid stormy times. Seeing your disciples mended... that's payment enough."

A warmth stirred in Hua Yimei's heart. Handsome, mighty, faithful, and compassionate, she mused. Yue Lingshan truly hit fortune.

"Please," she pressed. "Rest the remainder of the day. The sect can pause. Guard your well-being."

"As you wish, Sect Leader," Wang Jian agreed.

As Hua Yimei departed, throwing one final nod of thanks to Wang Jian, the door sealed with a click.

Wang Jian rose straight, tiredness evaporating. He eyed Mu Lianhua and gave a playful wink.

"Fine performance, Elder Mu."

Mu Lianhua colored, recalling his actions mere moments before the Sect Leader's arrival. "You're a fiend, Master."

"And you adore it," he breathed. "Now, complete the batch. I've... got another engagement."

Wang Jian ascended to the Cloud-Peak Pavilion's higher floors. He skipped the primary chambers where Yue Lingshan recovered. Instead, he entered his personal study—a isolated section extending over the cliff, providing a sweeping sea vista.

Yue Lingshan had set up perception-muting arrays there per his ask, thinking he required silence for sword cultivation reflection.

He settled at his desk, feigning interest in a scroll.

A light rap sounded at the entrance.

"Come in," Wang Jian stated evenly.

The door parted, and Young Sect Mistress Hua Ling entered.

She stunned with beauty. Her plain white practice robe, simpler than her typical garb, lent her a pure, inviting vibe. Dark locks pulled back exposed her graceful neck. She bore a basket of Spirit-Peaches.

"Young Master Wang," she uttered, slightly winded. She shut the door. "I... I fetched these. Picked from the Elder’s orchard today. Thought you'd enjoy them."

Wang Jian rose, circling the desk. "Such generosity, Young Mistress. But you shouldn't handle tasks like a handmaid."

"It's no task," she hurried, cheeks reddening. "I wished to visit you. To... express thanks once more."

Post-battle, Hua Ling had come by frequently. Initially, open appreciation. Then, secluded teas. And presently...

Wang Jian halted before her. His intense stare down at her weakened her stance.

"Hua Ling," he voiced, skipping formality. "I saw your courtyard training earlier."

"You... saw?" Her face lit up. "Any progress?"

Wang Jian's brow furrowed a bit, look growing grave. "Progress yes. But a weakness caught my eye. A snag in Qi flow to the upper meridians. Minor, yet risky. It arose from battle trauma."

Hua Ling's eyes grew large with concern. "A weakness? I feel okay though..."

"Hidden wounds stay quiet till they strike hard," Wang Jian fibbed effortlessly. "It's by your heart meridian. Untreated, it might block your Mid-Stage advance."

He indicated the room's central meditation cushion. "Let's talk it over... and fix it. In private. For your honor."

Hua Ling paused briefly. He was her rescuer. The noblest figure she knew. "Please, Young Master. Aid me."

She took the cushion. Wang Jian seated himself behind.

"Ease up," he soothed, tone a deep murmur by her ear. "Shut your eyes. Breathe steady."

His palms rested on her shoulders. Warmth and weight spread from his touch. He kneaded away the stiffness in her frame.

"So rigid, Ling’er," he said low. "Have faith in me."

"I... trust you," she replied shakily.

Wang Jian's palms shifted. They trailed from shoulders along her back, following her spine's curve. Then, they reached ahead.

"Must probe the heart flow," he explained.

He turned her to face him. Eyes remained closed, cheeks blazing red.

He skipped the pulse check. One hand cradled her face, lifting her chin.

"Part your lips," he directed mildly.

Hua Ling opened her mouth, a puzzled query rising, but it died as Wang Jian seized her lips in a bold, forceful kiss.

No shy affection here. This was conquest's claim. He consumed her air, tongue plunging in, savoring her startled sweetness.

Hua Ling sighed into it, thoughts blanking. Her limbs rose on instinct, circling his neck. She'd fantasized this—the savior taking possession. Scruples, his marriage, all burned away in passion's fire.

Wang Jian pressed on. As the kiss held her, his hands wandered.

He delved fingers into her robe's front. Palms glided over inner silk, seeking her heat. He shoved cloth aside, seizing her breasts.

Large, yielding, flawless. His battle-roughened grip molded the pale softness, pressing, gauging fullness.

Hua Ling inhaled sharply against his lips, curving back, offering her front to his hold. Peaks stiffened quick under his touch.

"This aid your cultivation, Young Mistress?" Wang Jian mocked, ending the kiss to plant damp nips along her throat. "My Yang steady you?"

"Yes..." Hua Ling wept quietly, drowned in feeling. "Yes... Wang Jian... please..."

She craved it deeply. This pattern repeated—never fully, but building each time. He shaped her, conditioning her form to his caresses, fostering hunger for the illicit bliss only he offered.

"So eager," he breathed, tweaking a peak. "Your mother would faint seeing her pure girl thus."

Her mother's name sparked forbidden excitement.

"Keep it from her," Hua Ling pleaded, gaze fogged with want. "Please..."

"Our hidden truth," Wang Jian vowed.

The following hour, he charted her contours, hands and lips driving her near release without the ultimate step. Her innocence stayed preserved—a future reward—but he claimed the rest.

As she departed, rosy, tousled, adjusting attire with unsteady fingers, Wang Jian reclined on the cushion, smile content.

Her mother, stately Sect Leader Hua Yimei, remained clueless that her cherished child was being forged into a plaything beneath her watch.

Three months slipped by.

The Fragrance Melody Sect hadn't just mended; it thrived. Word of the sect spread across the Inner Islands. Weekly, messengers from fellow Righteous sects came, seeking bonds with the group boasting a "enigmatic, potent Alchemist Elder."

Bai Xue noted the trade guild's favorable deals. Su Ning shared that Iron-Blood Hall splintered into infighting, their danger gone for now.

"Outside dangers are tamed," Wang Jian stated to his close group that night. "Time to nurture within."

He guided them not to the Alchemy Hall, but to a secret cavern he'd dug under the pavilion, guarded by Yue Lingshan’s latest creation: the Nine-Heaven Void-Lock Formation.

This barrier reached Peak Core Formation strength, built to suppress energy traces that might summon heavenly notice.

The cavern held a dimensional garden plot—tiny earth aglow with spirit radiance.

At its heart rose a tree.

Five feet high, yet awe-inspiring. Bark like forged obsidian, leaves as frozen fire crystals. It throbbed with a pulse matching the chamber's warmth.

The Phoenix Fire Tree.

Three months back, just a root snippet. But Wang Jian drenched it daily in his Verdant Eternal Spring Essence. He'd bent time, squeezing eons of expansion into mere weeks.

"It's... flowering," Liu Ruyan murmured, eyes saucer-wide.

Golden blooms spread on limbs. They faded fast, yielding to three swelling fruits.