Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 963: Hua Yimei Surrenders

The oppressive quiet of the night enveloped Cloud-Peak Pavilion, thick with the aroma of musk and the charged spark of illicit passion. In the meditation room, the warm amber glow danced over the Young Sect Mistress's skin, etching the curve of her throat's hollow and the deep line of her cleavage into vivid, seductive shadows.

Concealed in the darkness beneath the spirit-willow tree outside, Sect Leader Hua Yimei experienced her heart clutched by an icy, relentless grip. Her cultivation base, normally a thundering stream of might, now stagnated, strangled by the profound dread of the sight she glimpsed through the parted curtains.

She observed her daughter, her cherished Hua Ling, descending her form. Hua Ling's delicate, well-groomed fingers trailed along Wang Jian's torso, following the contours of his abs with a devotion that edged toward adoration. She noted how Hua Ling's locks tumbled ahead like a silken veil grazing Wang Jian's flesh, and how her red gown parted wide, presenting him with it all.

'No...' Hua Yimei pondered, her nails scraping into the willow's bark until they cracked. 'Ling'er... where is your dignity? He is a predator... a monster...'

Yet at her core, Hua Yimei recognized the reality. Hua Ling viewed no monster. She perceived a savior. She saw the one who had snatched her from a midair plunge, who had endured a blood arrow in her stead, who had vowed her a destiny. Hua Ling acted from affection and thankfulness, sentiments Wang Jian had exploited with deadly accuracy.

Within the chamber, Wang Jian's lids drooped halfway, his face showing pure indulgent pleasure. Yet his spiritual sense remained keen as a knife, locked solely on the figure beyond the window. He sensed her aura quivering. He savored her anguish.

He chose to twist the knife deeper.

A focused spiritual message shot from him, a slender thread of intent slicing the darkness to resound straight in Hua Yimei's thoughts.

'Such a keen observer you are, Sect Leader. Does it thrill you to see your daughter tending to me?'

Hua Yimei jerked sharply, a sharp intake trapped in her throat. His words inside her skull slithered like oil—greasy, shadowy, and indelible.

'Watch her,' Wang Jian's tone pressed on, taunting and vicious. 'She has a gift for this. Her touch is gentle, yet her passion burns hot. She adorned herself solely for me, Yimei. That gown was her secret purchase, concealed from you, preserved for precisely now. She craves my Yang essence.'

Hua Yimei yearned to cry out, to shatter the pavilion, but the recollection of the recording—the vision of her own humiliation—froze her. Should she act, should she burst inside, Wang Jian would unleash the evidence. Her daughter would view her not as a guardian, but as a fraud who had yielded to the identical man. The disgrace would demolish their bond eternally.

In the room, Hua Ling ventured further. The warmth emanating from Wang Jian's frame was heady. She shifted her palms downward, her fingertips skimming the edge of his relaxed pants.

"Young Master," she murmured, her tone quaking with both apprehension and thrill. "Does this... please you?"

Wang Jian extended a hand to cradle her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "It pleases me greatly, Ling'er. Yet you're hesitating still."

He directed her palms. He placed them on his thighs, compelling her to sense the firm sinews. Next, he seized her waist.

"Climb up," he instructed in a gentle murmur.

Hua Ling complied instantly. She raised her leg, the tall split in her red dress draping aside to expose the smooth stretch of her thigh up to her hip. She settled across his lap, her knees pressing into the plush cushions of the couch. She held her full weight back for the moment; she lingered, her inner thighs grazing his hips, her most intimate area perilously near his arousal.

The stance was close, obscene, and blatantly erotic.

Beyond the window, Hua Yimei clamped her eyes closed, tears seeping free.

'Keep your eyes open, Sect Leader,' Wang Jian ordered in her mind. 'Don't skip the highlight. See how she gazes at me. That's no victim's stare. That's a follower's gaze.'

Hua Yimei compelled her eyes to reopen. She witnessed Hua Ling bending nearer, her palms on Wang Jian's shoulders. The red dress had gathered at her waist. From Hua Yimei's vantage, it seemed her daughter was already surrendering to him.

'She is gone...' Hua Yimei reflected, a choke shaking her frame. 'He has warped her thoughts utterly.'

Inside, Hua Ling dipped her head. She pressed her lips to Wang Jian's neck, parting them to sample the salt of his skin. She rocked her hips faintly, an experimental, natural motion driven by the rub and the warmth.

"Oh..." she sighed quietly, sensing the rigid bulge under her. The feeling ignited a surge of molten heat in her blood. "You are... so big..."

Wang Jian laughed softly, a deep vibration rumbling into her. He slid his hands along her back, fingers mapping her spine, then resting at her neck. He angled her head upward, baring her throat.

He claimed her lips. It wasn't a pure promise of a kiss; it was a ravenous, consuming one. He nipped her lower lip, parting her mouth, his tongue plunging in to battle hers.

Hua Ling dissolved. Her arms clamped tighter around his neck. She molded her breasts to his chest, squashing the yielding mounds against his solid build.

Wang Jian dispatched another note to the sobbing parent outside.

'Is this just a simple massage she'll allow? Hardly. See her hips, Yimei. She's rubbing against me. She's aroused. I can detect it.'

Hua Yimei pressed her palms to her ears, as though that might block the mind-voice. It failed.

'Should I choose,' Wang Jian warned, his inner tone icing over like a dagger, 'I could claim her innocence here and now. I could rip that thin red cloth from her, part her thighs, and shatter her barrier. I could bind her to me eternally. And she would express gratitude.'

In the chamber, Wang Jian's palm traveled. He glided it down Hua Ling's back, across the swell of her rear, and tucked it beneath her dress's edge.

Hua Ling inhaled sharply into the kiss, her form twitching, yet she stayed put. She spread her legs wider, granting his hand entry to her uncovered thigh.

Hua Yimei stared in abject terror as his hand vanished under the red silk. She envisioned his fingers on the flesh she had washed in Hua Ling's infancy, the flesh she had pledged to shield.

'To halt that...' Wang Jian's voice slithered, presenting the infernal deal. 'Then declare it immediately. Replace her. Come tend to me in her stead. Come complete what began in the cave. Otherwise... I will unwillingly claim Ling'er's form. She is youthful, firm... I might savor her beyond what I did with you.'

The demand loomed like an executioner's edge.

Hua Yimei fractured inside. Her honor roared for her to flee, to summon the elders, to challenge him. But her reason, harsh and unsparing, warned of defeat. He possessed the recording. He controlled the remedy for her cultivation "shackle." And now, he clutched her daughter's chastity in his grasp.

Inaction meant Hua Ling's destruction. Not merely bodily, but in spirit. She would turn into the toy of a man who regarded women as mere assets.

'I cannot permit him to claim her,' Hua Yimei decided, her heart crumbling. 'I stand ruined already. I stand tainted. But Ling'er... she remains unspoiled.'

Within the room, the mood transformed. The teasing allure faded, yielding to a primal, intense craving.

Wang Jian ended the kiss. He peered into Hua Ling's hazy gaze. Her lips swelled, her breaths quick and ragged.

He framed her face in both hands. He voiced aloud, his tone distinct and carrying just enough to reach the listener outside.

"Ling'er," he uttered, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. "I feel... uneasy. The flames are building. Your allure challenges my control."

Hua Ling regarded him, her eyes brimming with urgent, naive yearning. "Young Master?"

"May I have you now?" Wang Jian inquired bluntly. "Will you yield to me entirely? Body and soul? Will you allow me to awaken you as a woman this night?"

It marked the ultimate trial. The brink.

Hua Yimei suspended her breath, imploring the ancestors that her daughter would regain clarity, that she would recall the lessons on decorum and worth.

'Refuse, Ling'er,' Hua Yimei pleaded in silence. 'I beg you, refuse.'

Hua Ling paused not even briefly. The manipulation had been total. The months of "healing sessions," the confided intimacies, the daring salvation—it had built to this instant.

"Yes!" Hua Ling breathed urgently, nodding vigorously. "Yes! Please, Young Master! Claim me! I yearn to belong to you! I have fantasized about this!"

The declaration stabbed Hua Yimei's heart. Her daughter faced no coercion. She pleaded for it.

Hua Ling extended a hand downward. Her fingers struggled with Wang Jian's pants tie. Her motions were awkward from lack of practice, but her purpose shone clear. She aimed to free him.

Wang Jian glanced at the window. His stare fixed on the curtain's opening. Even in the gloom, Hua Yimei bore the burden of his regard. He grinned—a savage, victorious look that conveyed, 'I warned you.'

He reclined, permitting Hua Ling to untie his belt's initial loop. He drew near, grazing his lips on hers, ready to launch the concluding deed.

Hua Yimei shattered.

A desperate, wailing spiritual message crashed into Wang Jian's mind, laden with frenzy and capitulation.

'STOP! Leave her be! I implore you! I will arrive! I will attend you! Just dismiss her! Do as you wish with me, only spare her ruin!'

Wang Jian halted. His hand, poised to slide Hua Ling's dress from her shoulders, hung suspended.

He maintained the stance briefly, relishing the triumph. The ruler had yielded to preserve the heir.

He regarded Hua Ling below. She had barely slackened his belt. Her face angled toward him, eyes shut, lips ajar in eager wait for his kiss.

Wang Jian exhaled, a noise mimicking profound self-denial. He softly seized Hua Ling's hands, halting her advance.

"Hold on, my sweet," he breathed.

Hua Ling's eyes fluttered open, bewilderment dimming her lust. "Young Master? Have I... have I erred?"

Wang Jian withdrew a touch. He straightened her dress, easing the strap onto her shoulder. He met her gaze with a look of anguished honor.

"No," he replied gently. "You performed flawlessly. You are ideal."

He swept a lock from her visage.

"Yet your words... they have delighted me immensely. Overly so. You hold too much worth, Ling'er. You are the Young Sect Mistress. A treasure of the depths."

He drew close, murmuring at her ear, his voice heavy with feigned feeling. "To claim you now, in shadows, in hiding... it would diminish your merit. You merit beyond a hasty union in darkness."

Hua Ling gazed at him, her heart expanding. "Young Master..."

"I desire to proceed rightly," Wang Jian deceived, his tone ringing with utter honesty. "Tomorrow, I will confer with my wife, Lingshan. I will declare our bond. I will formalize our joining. I wish you to join my home proudly, as an acknowledged consort, not a concealed lover."

Tears gathered in Hua Ling's eyes. Disappointment stung—her form throbbed, her pulse aflame for him—but his declaration's sentiment overpowered it. He valued her. He esteemed her. He sought proper matrimony.

"You..." she stammered. "You are far too noble to me. I lack worth for such grace."

"You merit everything," Wang Jian affirmed, pressing a pure kiss to her brow. "Now... conceal yourself. Lest I surrender to impulse."

He aided her to rise. He fetched her gray outer cloak from the ground and draped it over her, securing the belt with careful, measured motions.

"Depart now, Ling'er," he directed, guiding her to the exit. "Envision our tomorrow. Entrust the rest to me."

Hua Ling glanced back once more. She inclined deeply, her features aglow with bliss.

"Goodnight, my beloved," she murmured.

She pivoted and departed the room, drifting on waves of rapture, oblivious that she had served as lure in a scheme to capture her mother.

With the door's soft close behind her, Wang Jian's kind facade evaporated at once. He lounged on the couch, legs crossed. He left his robe undone. He anticipated.

Outside, Hua Ling emerged from the pavilion. Immersed in visions of vows and life with Wang Jian, she overlooked the still silhouette by the garden entry. She passed her mother directly, humming a gentle melody.

Hua Yimei tracked her daughter's retreat. She beheld the elation on Hua Ling's countenance. It clashed cruelly with the void of fear in her own gut.

'She is secure,' Hua Yimei reflected, a tear tracing her face. 'For this evening, she endures unscathed.'

She eyed the Cloud-Peak Pavilion. The amber illumination in the pane persisted. The predator awaited.

Hua Yimei drew a steadying breath, fortifying her resolve. She aligned her official Sect Leader attire, flattening the silk. She inspected her image in a water basin. She appeared majestic, serene.

Yet within, she quaked.

She approached the lateral door. She stepped into the pavilion. The passages stood vacant; Wang Jian had guaranteed utter seclusion.

She advanced along the hallway. The meditation room's portal swung wide before her hand met it.

Hua Yimei entered.

The space carried the fragrance of her daughter's scent mingled with Wang Jian's musk. It formed a nauseating, overpowering mix that churned her insides.

Wang Jian occupied the couch, positioned just as with Hua Ling earlier. He regarded her. His eyes gleamed dark, entertained, and stripped of compassion.

He lifted a hand and clicked his fingers.

HUMMMMMM.

The formations in the walls ignited. The Stellar Gravity Suppression Formation sprang into effect without delay.

The chamber's atmosphere turned dense as iron. The spiritual qi thickened, bearing down like a peak's mass.

Hua Yimei inhaled sharply. Her legs gave way. Though a Middle-Stage Core Formation cultivator, she felt her power sealed, restrained by the custom array crafted by Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan for this space. Her spiritual sea slowed, her tie to the heavens cut.

She strove to rise erect, to preserve her poise, but the force bowed her shoulders. She felt frail. Powerless.

"You chose wisely, Yimei," Wang Jian stated, his words slicing the dense atmosphere.

He scanned her from head to toe.

Clad in her official garb, she embodied command. Elevated neckline, extended sleeves, folds of golden and violet silk. But underneath, Wang Jian knew the secrets hidden.

"Observe you," he pondered, rising and approaching her leisurely. "Beside the flower bud, the full bloom proves far more... captivating."

He orbited her. Hua Yimei remained rigid, fearing motion, fearing breath.

"Your breasts swell more generously," Wang Jian breathed at her back. "Your hips flare broader. Your waist... slim and pliant. You exude a maturity your daughter won't rival for a decade yet."

He pressed near her ear. "And that expression... glaring at me with such loathing. It stirs me."

He returned to the couch and seated himself, parting his legs broadly. He tapped his thigh.

"Approach."

Hua Yimei stirred not. Her feet seemed fused to the ground.

"I commanded, approach," Wang Jian restated, his tone firming a notch. "Or shall I summon Ling'er again? She can't have strayed distant."

The warning whipped her essence. Hua Yimei recoiled. She bowed her head, concealing the humiliating tears on the verge.

She stepped ahead. Every stride warred with her dignity. She arrived at the couch.

"Sit."

She rotated and sank onto his lap.

The touch sparked like lightning. Despite the multiple layers of her ritual robes, she detected his body's heat. She sensed the rigid, merciless bulge of his arousal against her side. It summoned raw memories of the cave—the agony, the girth, the unending thrusts.

She trembled.

"Fine girl," Wang Jian murmured. His arm coiled about her waist, securing her. "Provided you comply... provided you please me thoroughly... I will spare Hua Ling. She will stay chaste. She will stay content."

He reclined, drawing her against his torso.

"Now," he declared, his hand rising to her robe's tall collar. "Reveal what you donned for me."