Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 962: Hot Daughter’s Massage

The first rays of the morning sun enveloped the Isle of Whispering Petals in a gentle glow of soft gold, highlighting the fog that lingered among the spirit-bamboo forests and the flowing waterfalls. For the disciples of the Fragrance Melody Sect, this represented a lovely, serene dawn, embodying their sect's astonishing revival and emerging power. They strolled along the stone trails with graceful movements, carrying their zithers and flutes on their backs, exchanging warm smiles that had vanished amid the grim times of the Iron-Blood Hall's assault.

Yet for Wang Jian, as he traversed the white jade path winding upward to the main peak, the morning breeze carried not tranquility, but eager expectation.

Clad in the official robes of the Head Male Guest Elder—rich indigo silk adorned with silver constellations that moved faintly with his steps, reflecting his cultivation method—his hands remained folded behind him, his gait steady and assured. Each disciple he encountered halted, offered a profound bow, and held their breath until he had gone by. In their eyes, he stood as the champion who defended the treasury entrance, the rescuer who endured a blood arrow meant for their Young Mistress.

He acknowledged them with kind nods, embodying the role of the noble guardian flawlessly. However, his thoughts centered on the peak above.

He arrived at the square in front of the Orchid Palace. The Sect Leader's dwelling was an exquisite display of elegant design, constructed from sheer rose-quartz and covered in endless lengths of magical silk that typically fluttered alluringly in the breeze.

On this day, though, the palace resembled a stronghold.

The enormous double doors, etched from ancient thousand-year-old Spirit-Iron wood, stood firmly closed. Even more revealing, the surrounding spiritual qi near the palace churned densely and restlessly. The atmosphere gleamed with a purple tint—the Violet Mist Locking Array. This served as the sect's top-tier seclusion barrier, generally employed when the Sect Leader engaged in profound closed-door cultivation or confronted a heavenly trial.

Wang Jian halted ten steps from the entrance. He sensed the array's resistance pressing against his flesh, forming an invisible, unyielding barrier of power.

'So,' Wang Jian mused inwardly, a gradual, entertained grin forming on his mouth. 'She imagines she can conceal herself.'

There was no mystery behind the array's activation. Hua Yimei, the haughty Sect Leader who had attained the Middle Stage of the Core Formation Realm, lived in fear. She sought refuge from him. She fled the recollections of the cavern, the ghostly feel of his touch on her form, and the degrading truth that her cultivation now bound itself to his vital force.

'Does she really suppose a mere formation will halt me? Or is this merely a frantic bid to cling to some dignity? Adorable.'

He sent out his spiritual sense. It collided with the shield. The array proved robust, drawing from the sect's primary ley line. Shattering it demanded raw power—perhaps a Stellar Severing Slash or an onslaught that could rattle the whole island.

Such actions he would avoid. They would spoil the intrigue. They would demolish his facade as the mild savior.

Wang Jian remained still, allowing his aura to bear down on the array. He understood she observed him. Within that quartz haven, Hua Yimei surely gazed into a surveillance mirror, her pulse racing, hoping he would simply depart.

He refused to leave. Instead, with a casual turn of his hand, a plain communication jade slip materialized in his grasp. He brought it to his mouth, channeling a unique vibration of spiritual energy to guarantee only the target could access the recording upon unsealing.

"Sect Leader," Wang Jian started, his voice amiable and casual, despite his gaze being as frigid as frost. "I notice you've engaged the Violet Mist Locking Array. Quite an impressive safeguard. It definitely prevents my entry."

He lingered in the quiet. He rotated the jade slip between his fingers, sunlight glinting off its polished face.

"But tell me, Yimei... can this array truly prevent your beloved daughter, Hua Ling, from exiting?"

He let out a sinister laugh.

"You know, Ling’er contacted me before. She demands to visit the Cloud-Peak Pavilion this evening. She desires to... 'reward' me for preserving her life. She was very persistent."

Wang Jian's thumb grazed the jade's surface.

"Should you attempt to block her, should you deny her visit, she could become distressed. She might question why her mother isolates her from her champion. And should she inquire of me... well, I may need to reveal the actual essence of our bond."

He infused a strand of his Stellar Qi into the slip, embedding an extra layer of data—not sound, but a visual display. It consisted of a memory captured via a Photo-Stone over their three days in the cave. The brief segment showed: Hua Yimei, tousled and tearful, her Sect Leader robes ripped apart, her hips undulating in sync with his movements as she pleaded for him to cease—or maybe, pleaded for continuation.

"I've included a little keepsake from our cave encounter," Wang Jian murmured into the slip. "A stunning capture. If Ling’er fails to arrive at my chamber tonight... or if you dare to interfere directly... I could unintentionally leave a duplicate of this footage in the disciple square. Picture your daughter's expression upon witnessing her esteemed mother mounting the Guest Elder like an ordinary harlot."

He sealed the jade slip with a sharp click.

"Choose wisely, Sect Leader. I'll await you."

With a quick wrist motion, he hurled the jade slip. Not toward the gate. He employed a targeted gust of wind to slip it via a narrow vent in the array's detection point—a flaw Yue Lingshan had revealed to him earlier.

The slip disappeared into the purple haze.

Wang Jian offered no pause for a reply. He pivoted sharply, his robes billowing theatrically, and departed at the unhurried tempo of someone who commanded all.

Within the Orchid Palace, the air hung oppressively heavy.

Sect Leader Hua Yimei perched on the brink of her cultivation cushion, her fingers clenching her robe fabric until her knuckles blanched. Her complexion drained of color, lacking the vibrant flush typical of a Middle Stage Core Formation expert.

As the jade slip pierced the barrier and touched down with a faint tap, she recoiled like it was an explosive.

She fixed her gaze on it for a prolonged moment, her bosom rising and falling rapidly. At last, with quivering digits, she extended her hand and retrieved it. She channeled a trace of her Qi to trigger it.

Wang Jian’s voice, silky and alarmingly recognizable, resounded in her thoughts.

"...is this array strong enough to stop your dear daughter, Hua Ling, from coming out?"

Hua Yimei’s breathing faltered. "No..." she murmured. "Leave her alone..."

Next, the visual projection ignited in her inner vision.

The footage appeared rough yet undeniable. The moist cavern. The rock platform. And her—bare below the waist, legs encircled around Wang Jian’s midsection, head arched in a grimace of ecstasy and torment as his substantial hand clutched her breast.

Hua Yimei cried out, flinging the jade slip away. It slid across the ground, yet the scene seared into her sight.

She huddled into a fetal position, hiding her face in her palms. The humiliation pressed like a tangible burden, squeezing her insides. He had documented it. He possessed evidence.

"He... he is a demon," she wept, swaying gently. "He will ruin it all."

Her mind turned to her child. Hua Ling, so pure, so enamored with that fiend. Hua Ling, who intended to seek him this night.

"I must halt her," Hua Yimei panted, rising on unsteady feet. "I must inform her... I must prohibit her..."

Yet the warning rang in her ears. If you try to stop her... I might accidentally drop a copy of this recording in the disciple plaza.

Should that occur, the Fragrance Melody Sect would crumble. Her command would dissolve. Her daughter would regard her with revulsion. The disgrace would end her.

Hua Yimei collapsed back to the ground, broken. She found herself ensnared. Blocking Hua Ling meant Wang Jian would dismantle her existence. Allowing her meant Wang Jian would corrupt her daughter.

"What should I do?" she sobbed, staring at the mute, stifling confines of her palace. "What option remains?"

Time passed unevenly between hunter and hunted. As Hua Yimei endured a day of tormenting doubt and dread, Wang Jian passed it in calm readiness.

He went back to the Cloud-Peak Pavilion and released his other companions. He directed Yue Lingshan to examine the eastern barriers and instructed Chen Ying and Liu Ruyan to oversee an evening watch. He craved silence in the pavilion. He sought a prepared scene for an intimate show.

He ignited rods of Deep-Ocean Musk, an uncommon incense that offered more than a pleasing aroma; it served as a subtle arouser for the bloodstream, amplifying tactile awareness and diminishing restraints. He tuned the illumination crystals in his meditation room to a cozy, subdued golden hue.

He settled onto his vast couch, dressed in a slack black silk garment loosely fastened at the waist, baring the firm contours of his torso and core. He shut his eyes and contemplated, not the Dao, but the thrill awaiting the evening.

He had truly sent a message to Hua Ling that morning, just prior to approaching her mother.

"Ling’er," his note had read. "The moon shines full this night. I feel drained from my responsibilities. You once spoke of repaying me. Visit my chamber at the Hour of the Pig. And don something... fitting for a champion's gaze. Do not let me down."

He was certain she would arrive. He had nurtured her over months. The rubs, the caresses, the vow of union... she hung like overripe produce ready to drop.

In the Young Sect Mistress's chambers, the atmosphere buzzed with jittery eagerness.

Hua Ling positioned herself before her tall bronze looking glass. Her face bloomed with a innate blush, her gaze alight with blended worry and exhilaration. She had sent away her attendants long before, insisting she required time to reflect on her cultivation advancement.

'Tonight,' she pondered, her pulse racing like a caged fowl. 'Tonight, I approach him.'

She remembered Wang Jian’s note. Wear something suitable for a hero’s eyes.

She nibbled her lip, eyeing the heap of garments on her bed. The usual sect attire was refined yet modest. They concealed the figure. That failed to match his desires. She understood his tastes. She recalled his palms gliding over her contours, his stare intensifying at her bosom.

She delved into the wardrobe's depths, extracting a petite, silk-bound package purchased covertly from a worldly trader vessel months prior. She had never summoned the nerve to don it. It seemed outrageous. It seemed... appropriate.

She allowed the silk to unfold.

It revealed a gown of intense, blood-red crimson. The material was translucent, nearly transparent under certain illumination. It lacked sleeves, supported merely by slender straps. The bodice dove boldly low, meant to accentuate décolletage instead of veil it. The abdomen featured a diamond cutaway, baring her belly button and the gentle arc of her waist.

Hua Ling drew a steadying breath and removed her undergarments. The chill evening breeze brushed her skin briefly before she donned the crimson gown.

She inhaled sharply upon viewing her reflection.

The gown adhered to her as an extra layer of flesh. Her ample, weighty breasts lifted and converged, forming a profound, ivory cleft that captured attention at once. The gossamer cloth suggested the shadowed rings of her areolas. The hem trailed long, yet slits on either side ascended to her hip. Each stride unveiled her elongated, creamy thighs entirely.

"Is this... excessive?" she breathed, hand over her lips. She resembled a courtesan, not the Young Sect Mistress.

But then Wang Jian’s visage returned to her. She recalled his gaze during her frailty. She yearned to evoke it once more. She aimed to embody the woman capable of pleasing a legend like him.

'I am no longer a child,' she affirmed to her image, posture firming. 'I belong to him.'

She dabbed Moon-Scent Perfume—a scarce essence evoking night jasmine and drizzle—onto her wrists, throat, and profoundly amid her breasts. It was the aroma he had praised before.

Aware she could not traverse the sect in such attire without sparking uproar, she seized a thick, somber gray overcoat. She draped it over herself, securing the belt snugly, fully hiding the provocative red gown and her curvaceous form.

She glanced at the hourglass. The Hour of the Pig neared.

'Mother...' she considered remorsefully, directing her sight to the Orchid Palace. 'Pardon me. But I cherish him. You will comprehend once we unite.'

She exited via her window, employing a wind-step art to alight soundlessly in the garden. She navigated the gloom, evading the guards, her heart thumping wildly against her chest.

The Cloud-Peak Pavilion rose before her, hushed and commanding beneath the starlit heavens.

Hua Ling neared the lateral door. No sentries appeared—Wang Jian had ensured the path clear. She entered stealthily, the pavilion's known fragrance easing her tension a touch.

She proceeded along the hallway to his secluded meditation space. The portal stood ajar slightly, a thread of warm amber glow leaking onto the tiles.

She paused, adjusting her overcoat, tidying her locks. She inhaled deeply, shakily.

'Fear not, Ling’er. He awaits.'

She nudged the door wide and crossed the threshold.

The chamber felt toasty, the atmosphere laden with musk and sandalwood notes. It seemed personal, secluded, distant from the sect's broader world.

Wang Jian lounged on the grand middle divan. He reclined against stacked silk pillows, one knee bent, the other stretched. His black robe gaped open, unveiling the chiseled lines of his chest and stomach, his flesh shimmering subtly in the low light. He appeared potent, perilous, and strikingly attractive.

He raised his gaze as she arrived. His eyes roamed her shrouded silhouette, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.

"You came, Ling’er," he uttered, his tone a deep murmur that resonated in her core.

Hua Ling shut the door after her, fastening it with a quiet snap. She faced him, fingers gripping her overcoat's tie.

"Young Master..." she breathed. "You summoned... I responded."

"Draw nearer," he urged softly.

She advanced, halting paces from the divan. She sensed warmth emanating from him.

"You spoke of desiring to recompense me," Wang Jian noted, head cocked. "I await it."

Hua Ling gulped. She mustered resolve. "You preserved my life, Young Master. On multiple occasions. I... I possess no valuables to offer you. No artifact matching your benevolence. Save..."

She hesitated, breath catching.

"Save myself. I yearn to attend you this night."

Wang Jian’s grin broadened. "Attend me? In what manner?"

"I... I have mastered the Soft-Bone Spirit Technique," she stuttered, repeating the rationale she had rehearsed mentally. "It serves as... a massage method. To soothe the meridians and sinews. I desire... to alleviate your weariness."

Wang Jian laughed lightly. "A massage? From the Young Sect Mistress? What a singular privilege."

He motioned to her. "Fine then. Demonstrate."

Hua Ling inclined her head. Her fingers moved to the tie of her gray overcoat. She loosened the knot. The belt loosened.

She eased her shoulders, letting the weighty coat slip down her arms, gathering at her feet on the floor.

She appeared in the crimson silk gown.

The impact struck immediately. The scarlet material set off her fair complexion stunningly. Her décolletage presented like a tribute, heaving with her quick breaths. Her limbs, shown via the tall slits, stretched long and flawlessly formed. She evoked a deity of longing, tentative but eager.

Wang Jian’s gaze intensified. He appraised her from crown to toe, pausing at the midriff opening and the flare of her hips.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "Indeed fitting for a hero."

Hua Ling warmed with delight at his approval. She stepped free of the coat mound and neared the divan.

"May I?" she inquired, indicating his shoulders.

"By all means," Wang Jian shifted ahead a bit, offering his rear to her.

Hua Ling mounted the divan behind him. The padding yielded beneath her. She slicked her palms with a fragrant oil she carried, heating it via her Qi.

She extended and laid her hands on his wide shoulders. Her contact started hesitant, then strengthened as she worked the sinews.

"Your power... it astonishes," she murmured, sensing the rigidity of his upper back muscles. "So taut."

She inched nearer. Leverage demanded it. She adjusted, kneeling right behind. As she bent to dig her thumbs into his nape, her bosom compressed against his back.

The feeling sparked like lightning. Her full, yielding breasts molded to his solid frame, divided solely by her gown's slim silk. She detected his warmth permeating her peaks. She sighed faintly, yet held firm. Rather, she bore down more, employing her form's pressure to deepen the rub.

Wang Jian sealed his lids, a low moan slipping free. "That... feels splendid, Ling’er. Employ your full weight."

Emboldened, Hua Ling ventured further. She trailed her hands along his spine. She permitted her frame to glide versus his, the rub of her breasts on his flesh dispatching waves of delight through herself.

She circled to his flank. No longer merely kneading; she adored him. She glided her palms over his limbs, admiring their shape.

Then, she positioned before him.

She knelt amid his parted thighs on the divan, not yet contacting, but proximate. Her visage aligned with his torso.

"Young Master,