Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 891: Ambush

The caravan rumbled onward, the heavy, iron-reinforced wheels of the ten wagons groaning as they navigated the winding, dusty path. They had left the bustling trade post of Serpent’s Gate behind and were now entering the oppressive embrace of the mountain pass itself.

Towering cliffs of dark, unforgiving rock rose on either side, their jagged peaks clawing at the sky and blotting out a significant portion of the sun. The path narrowed, and the world became a claustrophobic corridor of stone and shadow. The air grew cooler, carrying a faint, damp chill that seemed to seep into the bones.

The sounds of the caravan—the lowing of the horned oxen, the creak of wood and leather, the clank of the mercenaries’ armor—echoed strangely, bouncing off the sheer cliff faces, creating a disquieting cacophony that seemed to mock the profound silence of the mountains.

Despite the menacing geography, the atmosphere among the Mystic Peak Sect disciples was surprisingly relaxed, almost jovial.

The seven junior disciples, their initial nervousness having faded, chatted and laughed amongst themselves, their voices bright with the confidence of youth. This was their first major escort mission, and under the command of a mid-stage Foundation Establishment expert like Senior Brother Wei Chen, it felt less like a dangerous task and more like an exciting field trip.

"Did you see the price of a single Spirit-Tempered Dagger back at the Gate?" one Tenth Stage disciple asked his companion. "Outrageous! With the contribution points from this mission, I can finally apply for a new one from the sect’s armory."

"Forget daggers," another chimed in, a Thirteenth Stage disciple with a proud look. "I’m saving for a Foundation Establishment Pill. A mission like this, so simple and safe, is the perfect way to build up points without any real risk."

Their words were a testament to the sect’s two centuries of unchallenged monopoly over this route. The path was safe because it had always been safe. It was a truth so deeply ingrained that the very thought of a threat seemed absurd.

Senior Brother Wei Chen, flying gracefully on his own high-grade flying sword artifact a short distance ahead of the main caravan, certainly shared this sentiment. His earlier irritation at Yue Lingshan’s rejection had been replaced by a renewed, smug confidence. He was the commander here, the strongest expert, the master of this situation.

He drifted back, his flying sword hovering effortlessly beside the Serpent Scale Soarer where Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan sat. He completely ignored Wang Jian, his charming smile fixed solely on the veiled princess.

"Junior Sister Yue," he began, his voice smooth and solicitous, pitched just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "The air in this pass can be quite harsh. If you are feeling unwell, do not hesitate to say so. This Senior Brother would be more than happy to erect a personal wind-warding barrier for you."

Yue Lingshan did not even turn her head. Her gaze remained fixed on the path ahead. "Thank you for the offer, Senior Brother Wei, but the air is quite refreshing," she replied, her tone polite but as cold and distant as the glacial peaks above them.

Wei Chen’s smile tightened at the edges. He was not used to being so thoroughly rebuffed. He tried again. "The journey is long. Perhaps you would care to discuss array theory? I have some minor insights into Core Formation level defensive arrays that might prove... illuminating for a talented junior like yourself."

"My current studies are more than sufficient to occupy my mind, Senior Brother," she replied, her voice still a sheet of polite ice. "I must focus on my duty as an escort."

The rejection was absolute. Wei Chen’s face flushed slightly, his bruised ego stinging. He cast another, even more resentful, glare at Wang Jian’s silent, seated form, as if this common-looking Deacon were somehow magically controlling the princess’s will. With a tight, forced smile and a curt nod, he flew back to the front of the caravan, his back ramrod straight with indignant pride.

Wang Jian watched this exchange with silent, detached amusement. He felt Yue Lingshan shift slightly behind him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"He is a persistent fool," she whispered, her voice a low, intimate murmur meant only for him.

"His arrogance will be his undoing," Wang Jian whispered back, his hand, hidden from the view of the others, coming to rest on her knee, his fingers gently caressing her through the fine fabric of her robe.

The caravan continued its slow, inexorable journey, pushing deeper into the canyon. They soon approached the narrowest section of the pass, a treacherous chokepoint known for centuries as the ’Dragon’s Maw’, where the cliffs on either side drew so close they almost seemed to touch, leaving only a sliver of sky visible high above.

It was here that Wang Jian’s entire demeanor shifted.

The calm, amused detachment vanished, replaced by an instantaneous, chilling alertness. His powerful soul, a silent, all-seeing eye that far transcended the limited spiritual sense of a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, screamed a silent warning.

It was not a single threat. It was a web.

He felt the faint, almost imperceptible hum of pre-laid array formations, their energies dormant, hidden beneath the very stones of the path and etched into the cliff faces. He felt the dozens of Qi signatures, carefully suppressed, concealed in crevices and behind boulders on the cliffs high above.

And he felt the killing intent. It was a cold, sharp, and overwhelming presence, a silent promise of death hanging in the air, completely unnoticed by anyone else.

His spiritual sense, a secret weapon he wielded with unparalleled precision, swept out.

’Four... no, five Foundation Establishment experts,’ his mind calculated in an instant. ’One late-stage, two mid-stage, two early-stage. And at least fifty Qi Condensation disciples, all peak-level, Tenth Stage and above.’

He felt a cold knot form in his stomach. This wasn’t an attack. This was an annihilation force. The caravan was not just walking into a trap; it was walking into its grave.

He looked at Wei Chen, preening at the front of the line. He looked at the laughing, oblivious junior disciples.

’Fools. They are all about to die.’

He had a choice. He could stay silent, wait for the trap to spring, and use the ensuing chaos to escape with Yue Lingshan. It was the most logical, self-preserving option.

But then his gaze fell on Yue Lingshan. She trusted him. And she, for all her newfound strength, still possessed a righteous heart. She would not forgive him if he simply let her sect brothers walk to their deaths without a word of warning.

He sighed inwardly. Attachments were... inconvenient.

He urged the Serpent Scale Soarer forward, gliding swiftly to the front of the caravan, beside Wei Chen.

"Senior Brother Wei," Wang Jian said, his voice low and urgent, all traces of his earlier politeness gone. "We are in grave danger."

Wei Chen turned, an annoyed look on his face at being interrupted in his sulking. "Danger? Junior Brother Wang, your senses must be playing tricks on you. Are you nervous? Perhaps this mission is too much for an outer sect disciple, even one who has recently advanced."

Wang Jian ignored the insult. "My senses are not mistaken," he stated, his voice flat and absolute. "There is an ambush ahead. A massive one. We are surrounded."

Wei Chen actually laughed, a short, barking sound of disbelief. "Surrounded? By whom? Mountain spirits? Don’t be a coward, Junior Brother. This pass has been secure for a century."

"I am not being a coward, I am being prudent," Wang Jian pressed, his voice turning colder. "I can sense at least four, possibly five, Foundation Establishment experts on the cliffs above, and dozens of peak Qi Condensation disciples lying in wait. We are walking into a slaughter."

Wei Chen’s face darkened with anger, his arrogance wounded by Wang Jian’s persistent, and in his view, cowardly, warnings.

"Five Foundation Establishment experts?" he scoffed, his voice loud enough for the nearby junior disciples to hear. "Preposterous! Your spiritual sense must be malfunctioning. Or perhaps you are simply trying to scare Junior Sister Yue and sow discord amongst the team. Are you trying to usurp my command with these fanciful tales of doom?"

He glared at Wang Jian, his mid-stage Foundation Establishment aura flaring with indignant pressure. "Know your place, Junior Brother! You are a new Deacon, an alchemist. Leave the security of this caravan to a true combat expert like myself. We press on!"

He turned his back on Wang Jian, a gesture of final, dismissive contempt. The junior disciples, hearing their commander’s confident words and seeing his powerful aura, snickered amongst themselves, casting pitying, mocking glances at the ’fearful’ Deacon Wang.

Wang Jian’s expression remained impassive. He had done his duty. He had given the warning. The fool had refused to listen. His conscience was clear.

He drifted back to Yue Lingshan’s side. She looked at him, her face pale with worry behind her veil.

"Jian?" she whispered.

He gave her a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes conveying a silent message.

’Be ready.’

The caravan proceeded another hundred yards into the narrowest part of the Dragon’s Maw.

And then, all hell broke loose.

BOOM!

An explosion, deafening and violent, erupted from the path ahead. A massive section of the cliff face, blasted loose by powerful talismans, crashed down onto the trail, sending a plume of dust and rock shards into the air. The lead oxen screamed in terror as a wall of solid rock, a hundred feet high, sealed the way forward.

BOOM!

A second, simultaneous explosion echoed from behind them, another landslide sealing the path of retreat.

They were trapped.

Before the dust had even settled, the air itself shimmered. Brilliant, complex runes flared to life on the cliff faces on either side, connecting to form a massive, semi-transparent cage of crackling spiritual energy that enveloped the entire caravan.

"A Sealing Array!" one of the junior disciples screamed in panic. "We’re trapped!"

The relaxed, jovial atmosphere of moments before was shattered, replaced by stark, sudden terror.

And then, figures began to appear on the clifftops.

Dozens of them, their robes a shocking, unbelievable tapestry of different colors. The sharp, aggressive blue of the Azure Sword Clan. The serene, medicinal green of the Crimson Pill Sect. The earthy, wild tones of the Hundred Beast Manor. And the unsettling, silent black of the Silent Puppet Guild.

All four of the other major righteous sects. United. Against them.

Wei Chen stared upwards, his arrogant face now a mask of ashen, horrified disbelief. "No... it can’t be..."

A figure stepped forward on a high ledge, looking down at them with an expression of cold, cruel amusement. He was a powerful, sharp-featured man, his late-stage Foundation Establishment aura a crushing weight. His blue robes whipped in the mountain wind.

It was Deacon Feng Lie of the Azure Sword Clan. He was flanked by other powerful figures—a stern-faced woman in Crimson Pill robes, Deacon Hua, and a hulking, bearded man from the Hundred Beast Manor, Deacon Xiong.

Wei Chen finally found his voice, his initial shock giving way to a sputtering, incoherent rage.

"Feng Lie! What is the meaning of this?! This is treachery of the highest order! The five sects have a non-aggression pact! Are you declaring war on our Mystic Peak Sect?!"

Feng Lie’s laughter echoed down from the cliffs, a cold, mocking sound that scraped at their raw nerves.

"War?" he called down, his voice dripping with contempt. "No, no, Wei Chen. Pacts are for fools who lack the strength to take what they want. And your Mystic Peak Sect has grown fat and complacent on its monopoly for far too long."

He gestured expansively at the trapped caravan. "We are not declaring war. We are simply... rectifying a long-standing imbalance in the market. This is a redistribution of wealth, you could say. The Star-Vein Iron and Jade Soul Sand are resources that should benefit all the sects of Yue, not just your greedy masters."

"You will pay for this!" Wei Chen shrieked, his face purple with fury. "Our Sect Master will not let this betrayal stand! He will raze your Azure Sword Clan to the ground!"

Feng Lie simply smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "By the time your Sect Master even learns of this, Wei Chen, you and your little disciples will be nothing but bloodstains on the rocks. Your cargo will be ours. And there will be no witnesses."

His smile widened. "This is not war. This is merely... business. Your sect’s monopoly, and your lives, end today."

The finality of his words hung in the air, a death sentence delivered from on high.

The junior disciples of the Mystic Peak Sect looked at each other, their faces pale with the certainty of their impending doom. The mortal mercenaries, caught in a battle of gods, simply dropped their weapons and began to pray.

Far at the back of the encircling force, crouched behind a rocky outcrop, Ye Fan watched the scene unfold, his expression a complex mixture of determination and inner conflict.

He had arrived here with a small, independent group of Azure Sword Clan outer disciples, all of whom, like him, were desperate for resources. They had been recruited for this "joint sect operation" with promises of a share of the spoils.

’The Mystic Peak Sect has hoarded this resource for too long,’ he thought, his jaw tight with a self-justifying righteousness. His gaze was fixed on the massive, armored wagons. ’They stifle the growth of other array masters in the state, keeping the most profound knowledge for themselves. This isn’t simple robbery; it’s a liberation of a resource, for the good of all cultivators who seek to walk the path of arrays.’

It was a narrative he had repeated to himself, a way to soothe the faint prickle of guilt he felt. He was a man of principle, but his desperate need for the Jade Soul Sand, the key to practicing the advanced protective arrays he had learned within the Temporal Jade Bead, had forced his hand. Knowledge without practice was useless, and materials were a barrier he could not overcome through diligence alone.

He watched the terror on the faces of the Mystic Peak disciples below, and the guilt pricked a little harder. But he quickly suppressed it. The world of cultivation was cruel. The strong preyed on the weak. Today, his side was the strong.

His plan was simple. He was not here to fight in the main battle. He was positioned at the rear, a deliberate choice. He would wait for the inevitable chaos, for the wagons to be breached. Then, in the confusion, he would use his superior speed and stealth to slip in, grab a single pouch of the precious Jade Soul Sand, and flee. He was an opportunist, a survivor. That was how he had lived his entire life.

He scanned the trapped escort team, his eyes briefly passing over the tall, handsome figure of Wang Jian and the graceful, veiled form of Yue Lingshan.

’Them again,’ he thought, a flicker of surprise in his mind. ’The ones from the Cinderwaste Caldera. So they are from Mystic Peak.’ He remembered the man’s terrifying power and the woman’s quiet strength. They were a formidable pair.

A faint sense of unease settled over him, but he pushed it aside. They were trapped, just like the others. In this overwhelming ambush, even powerful early-stage Foundation Establishment experts were doomed.

He settled back behind his rock, his hand resting on the hilt of his battered sword, his senses sharp, waiting. Waiting for the signal to attack. Waiting for the slaughter to begin. Waiting for his opportunity.

High above, on the clifftop, Deacon Feng Lie raised his hand, his eyes gleaming with cold, murderous intent.

"Kill the escorts!" he roared, his voice echoing through the Dragon’s Maw. "Take the cargo!"