Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 923: Sect Mistress Lianhua’s Despair

With Lianhua’s loyalist elders having spent their lives in a final, futile blaze of glory, she was now truly, utterly alone. The vast, bloody arena held no allies for her, only a sea of enemies.

Fu Yan and the Third Elder, Song Wei, hovered in the air, their Core Formation auras pressing down on her, their faces masks of triumphant contempt. They knew they had already won. The only thing left was to savor the kill.

’They’re dead,’ Lianhua’s mind whispered, a cold, hollow space opening in her chest. ’Guan... Ping... Elder Su... all dead. They sacrificed themselves for me. For the sect. And Fu Yan... this animal... he will pay. He will pay!’

She suppressed her grief, turning it to a cold, hard, white-hot rage.

But her mind was also racing, calculating. ’I can’t fight them both. Not head-on. Not with this damnable array suppressing my Qi. It feels like I’m trying to swim through solid rock. And the mental attack... it’s like a thousand tiny needles in my mind, breaking my focus. I have to separate them. Or break the array. But how...?’

Her enemies gave her no time to plan.

"It’s over, Lianhua! Just give up!" Fu Yan roared, deciding to end the stalemate personally. He raised his heavy, black "Soul-Crushing Mallet" artifact. "Die!"

He smashed it down, and a phantom, shrieking skull formed of pure, dark, corrosive energy shot towards her.

"Your time is done, old woman!" the thin, snake-like Song Wei hissed from her other flank, his movements perfectly coordinated with Fu Yan’s. He unleashed his signature technique, a "Corrosive Shadow Serpent." A massive, dark-purple snake, formed of pure, toxic Qi, lunged at her, its fangs bared.

They had trapped her in a pincer. A crushing, direct-force attack and a subtle, defense-ignoring corrosive attack.

’They mean to end this now!’ Lianhua’s tactical mind flared. ’I can’t block both with the cauldron. The mallet is pure force, designed to shatter. The serpent is toxic, designed to bypass shields and corrode my spiritual energy. I have to split my defenses! My flame... my Azure Sky-Heart Flame! It is a Heavenly Flame! It is the natural bane of all corrupt and toxic Qi like that serpent!’

She didn’t hesitate. She poured a massive, desperate amount of her spiritual energy into two separate actions.

"Azure Phoenix Wing!" she shrieked. Her pure, azure-blue flame erupted from her, coalescing into the shape of a magnificent, roaring phoenix. It spread its wings and charged, not at Fu Yan, but directly at Song Wei’s Corrosive Shadow Serpent.

The two elemental attacks collided with a horrific, violent HSSSSSSSS!

Azure flame and shadow poison boiled against each other, a violent, roiling cloud of steam and acrid smoke. The phoenix was purer, stronger, but the serpent was constantly being replenished by the dark, heavy energy of the suppression array. It was a vicious stalemate, one that was draining her precious spiritual energy at an alarming rate.

At the exact same instant, she desperately maneuvered her already-damaged Nine-Lotus Cauldron to intercept Fu Yan’s Phantom Skull.

’The cauldron is already cracked... this is going to hurt... it might even break... but I have no other choice!’

BOOOOOOM!

The collision was deafening. The phantom skull exploded against the azure shield of the cauldron. The layered defenses shattered like glass. The hammer’s dark energy slammed into the cauldron’s main body.

Lianhua felt the impact as a physical blow, as if she herself had been struck by the mallet. A wave of force traveled through her spiritual link to the artifact, and she gagged, a mouthful of hot blood spraying from her lips.

The cauldron was blasted back, spinning end over end, a massive, spider-webbing crack spreading across its entire surface. It was critically, perhaps fatally, damaged.

"Hahaha! How does it feel, you arrogant bitch?" Fu Yan taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Your precious cauldron is finished! Look at it! Broken! Just like your pathetic faction!"

Lianhua’s movements, once so fluid and graceful, became frantic, desperate. Her spiritual energy was draining like water from a sieve. Her powerful Heavenly Flame, which had been a raging phoenix, visibly shrank, becoming a flickering, unstable wisp.

She was finished.

’No... No! I am Lianhua! I am the Sect Mistress! I will NOT fall to this filth!’

With a trembling hand, she retrieved her last, most priceless, life-saving pill: a single, shimmering "Nine-Revolutions Spirit Pill." She shoved it into her mouth, biting down hard.

A wave of pure, potent, and almost violent spiritual energy exploded in her meridians. It was a temporary surge, a false dawn, but it was powerful. It momentarily overpowered the array’s suppression, flooding her body with strength.

Her Azure Sky-Heart Flame roared back to life, blazing bigger and brighter than it had before, though now it burned with a frantic, unstable edge.

"You think this is all I have, Fu Yan?!" she shrieked, her eyes blazing with a suicidal fire. Her cauldron was useless. She recalled it with a thought, storing its shattered remains. She was not defenseless yet.

"Gale of Ten Thousand Blades!"

She summoned a new artifact from her storage ring, a beautiful, deadly, pale-green jade fan: the "Jade Wind-Shear Fan." She snapped it open and fanned it viciously towards her enemies.

A storm of paper-thin, crescent-shaped wind blades, each one infused with her raging azure flame, screamed through the air.

"And this!"

A brilliant blue, ribbon-like artifact, the "Mother-Water Silk," uncoiled from her sleeve, weaving itself into a flexible, fluid, watery shield around her, forming the "Azure Silk Shield." It whipped out like a serpent, deflecting a renewed corrosive attack from Song Wei.

She became a whirlwind of fire, wind, and water. She was pushing them back! The flaming wind-blades were fast, sharp, and imbued with the purifying power of her Heavenly Flame, forcing Fu Yan to use his hammer defensively. The silk ribbon was a perfect, fluid defense, meeting Song Wei’s serpent attacks, neutralizing their corrosive power.

She was fighting two Core Formation masters and winning!

...For now.

Wang Jian, watching from his hidden perch, merely nodded in grim approval.

’Good. There it is. Pop the good pills. Burn your energy. Use your best artifacts. That fan is a top-grade spiritual artifact, but I can see it cracking under the mallet’s force already. The silk is dissolving, the water-essence can’t hold out against that shadow poison forever. She’s burning her own life-force on top of the pill’s energy. She’s not winning; she’s just... failing more spectacularly. Almost there. Almost broken.’

The glorious, desperate surge from the Nine-Revolutions Spirit Pill faded as quickly as it had come. Lianhua’s attacks, once so fierce, began to falter. Her flame flickered, her Jade Wind-Shear Fan was now covered in micro-fractures, and the Mother-Water Silk was stained black, its spiritual energy corroded.

Fu Yan and Song Wei, who had been on the defensive, saw their moment. They backed off slightly, their expressions turning from wary to contemptuous. They hovered in the air, content to let the array’s insidious suppression and her own crippling exhaustion finish the job. She was a fish in a net, and she had just tired herself out completely.

Fu Yan hovered before her, his face a mask of lecherous, triumphant greed. He didn’t even bother to hold his hammer at the ready. He raked his eyes over her sweat-soaked, panting form. Her white robes were torn, stained with blood and soot, clinging to her heaving, enormous breasts and the sweat-slicked curve of her hips.

"My, my, Lianhua," he sneered, his voice slimy. "You are still quite a sight, even when you’re beaten, bloody, and gasping for air like a landed fish. All that fire, all that passion... it’s an intoxicating mix. You truly are the number one beauty of our sect."

Lianhua glared at him, panting heavily, her chest aching. She tried to circulate her Qi, but her meridians felt like they were clogged with thick, cold mud.

’Vile pig,’ she thought, her mind cold with dread. ’He... he’s just playing with me. He knows I’m finished. The pill’s effects are gone. My spiritual energy is... it’s almost empty. My meridians... they feel like they’re tearing apart. What is he waiting for? Why doesn’t he just finish it?’

"But," Fu Yan continued, his voice dripping with a false, slimy mercy, "I am a merciful man, Lianhua. Unlike you, with your cold, righteous ’rules’. I have a new offer for you. A final chance to save that pathetic, beautiful life of yours."

"An offer?" Lianhua spat, her voice hoarse.

"Give up," he said, his voice suddenly flat and hard. "Stop this pointless, embarrassing resistance. Surrender the ’Crimson Dragon Cauldron’." He gestured to the central, hidden vault beneath the arena’s main platform. "And hand over the Sect Master’s seal. Disband your faction. Order any of your remaining loyalist rats cowering in the stands to bow to me, right now."

Lianhua’s heart sank. ’The Cauldron... of course. That’s what he’s truly after.’ She knew what it was. It wasn’t just a symbol. It was the sect’s sacred inheritance, a true, one-of-a-kind Earth-grade alchemical cauldron left by the Sect’s Founder. It was rumored to be the only cauldron in the entire State of Yue capable of refining true, heaven-defying Spirit-Grade pills. It was the very soul of the Crimson Pill Sect.

’He doesn’t just want power; he wants our foundation. Our legacy.’

She was panting, her body screaming in protest, but her eyes were pure ice. She managed to summon enough saliva and blood, and she spat it onto the stone floor at his feet.

"And you... you would let me live?" she gasped, her voice thick with contempt. "After this... this treason? After you murdered my elders in cold blood?"

’He’s lying,’ her mind raced, a cold, logical despair setting in. ’He would never let me live. A living, deposed Sect Mistress is a rallying cry for rebellion. A constant threat to his legitimacy. He’ll kill me. He’s just... savoring this moment. The depraved pig.’

Fu Yan laughed, a wheezing, unpleasant sound that confirmed her thoughts. "Live? Oh, yes, my dear Lianhua, you will live. I wouldn’t dream of destroying such a magnificent, peerless... thing... as you. I’m a collector, you know."

He licked his lips. "Of course, I’ll have to cripple your cultivation first. Snap those pretty meridians. Can’t have you seeking revenge, can I? A Core Formation expert with a grudge is... inconvenient."

His smile then turned utterly, repulsively vile. His lecherous gaze was no longer just an insult; it was a promise of a fate worse than death. "But a magnificent creature like you... look at that body... those breasts... that ass... it would be a terrible, terrible waste to simply kill you. No. You will live on... as my personal female cauldron."

Lianhua’s blood ran cold. ’Female... cauldron...?!’ Her mind recoiled in horror, a cold, black dread far worse than the fear of death. She knew exactly what that meant. A dual-cultivation slave. A living tool, used to purify his own energy, her essence drained day after day until she was nothing but a withered, empty husk.

"You will serve me, Lianhua," he purred, his voice slimy with a sick anticipation. "In my private chambers. You will help me purify my own cultivation, help me use your Heavenly Flame’s essence to break through to the Nascent Soul realm. And you," his gaze dropped pointedly to her heaving chest, then lower, "will serve my every... other... need. Every single night. For the rest of your long, long, miserable life."

The vile, explicit imagery, the sheer, unimaginable humiliation of it all, gave Lianhua one final, desperate burst of adrenaline-fueled rage.

"YOU... DEMON! YOU FILTH! I WILL KILL YOU IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!"

With a piercing, grief-stricken shriek, she summoned the last of her strength and hurled her one remaining, broken, cracked, but still immensely heavy Nine-Lotus Cauldron directly at his leering face.

Fu Yan didn’t even flinch. He simply swatted the heavy, tumbling artifact aside with a casual, contemptuous backhand of his Soul-Crushing Mallet, sending it crashing to the arena floor, where it shattered into a dozen useless pieces of azure metal.

"Feisty!" he laughed, his eyes gleaming with a sick, excited light. "Oh, yes! I will enjoy breaking you! Truly, I will!"

The battle resumed, if one could even call it that. It was not a battle. It was a one-sided, humiliating, and brutal beating.

Lianhua was exhausted. Her Qi was gone. Her Nine-Revolutions Spirit Pill had burned out, leaving her meridians feeling raw and torn. Her Heavenly Flame was reduced to a flickering, pathetic, azure candle flame on her fingertips, barely able to keep her warm.

"Is that all, Sect Mistress?" Elder Song, the snake-like man, sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "What a pathetic display."

She tried to summon another defensive artifact from her storage ring, but her hand fumbled. She had nothing left. Her high-grade artifacts were broken. Her talismans were spent. Her last, most precious defensive talisman, a life-saving gift from her own deceased master decades ago, had been used to block one of Deacon Jiao’s earlier sword-light attacks. It had shattered into a million points of light, and with it, her last line of defense.

She was defenseless.

Elder Song saw his chance. "This ends now. ’Shadow Serpent’s Fang’!"

His corrosive shadow serpent, no longer blocked by her flame, reformed. It whipped around her sputtering defenses with blinding speed and struck her hard in the back.

"AAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"

She cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony as the corrosive energy burned through her protective robes and deep into her flesh. The shadow poison, a specialized toxin, flooded her system, instantly attacking her meridians, sealing her Qi, numbing her limbs.

She plummeted from the sky like a broken bird, her white robes fluttering. She crashed hard onto the arena floor, landing in a crumpled, defeated heap in the dust and blood of her fallen, loyalist elders.

She was broken.

She coughed, a wracking, painful sound, and more blood splattered on the dust. She struggled, her fingers clawing at the ground, trying to push herself up, to get to her knees, to face her doom with some small scrap of dignity.

But her body wouldn’t obey. The shadow poison was already corrupting her meridians, a paralyzing, icy numbness spreading from the wound on her back. She was utterly, completely, powerless.

Her vision blurred. She looked around. Her loyal elders were dead. The arena was completely controlled by her enemies. The Silent Puppet Guild’s constructs, those awful, metallic crawlers, were moving in, their blades whirring, forming a tight, inescapable circle around her. There was no escape.

A final, confusing, and heart-wrenching thought flashed through her mind.

’Ruyan...’

A wave of pure, motherly relief, a single, bright spot in her all-consuming despair, washed over her. ’At least... at least she escaped. She’s safe. That’s all that matters. My child is safe.’

The confusion returned for a moment. ’But... how? How did she escape a sealed array? And those three disciples... Qiu Yun, Su Ning, Bai Xue... they seemed to know exactly what to do. They weren’t even surprised. And Ruyan... she just... went with them. No resistance...’

She pushed the confusing, painful thought away. It didn’t matter. Her disciple was alive. That was enough.

Fu Yan and Elder Song landed before her, their massive, triumphant shadows falling over her defeated form. Fu Yan’s face was a mask of pure, lecherous, victorious greed.

He crouched down, his disgusting, sweaty face just inches from hers. He reveled in her broken state, in her helplessness.

"It’s over, my dear Lianhua," he sneered.

He reached out, his dirty hand tangling brutally in her long, silken, sweat-matted hair. He yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him, her neck arching painfully.

"Time to accept your new position."

Lianhua closed her eyes. It was over. A single, silent tear of pure, black despair rolled down her dirt-streaked cheek. Her Qi was gone. Her artifacts were broken. Her allies were dead. Her beloved disciple, though safe, was gone.

There was no hope. No escape. Only this... this filth.

She had fallen into utter, complete, and total despair.

High above, hidden in his shadowed perch, Wang Jian, who had watched every single, agonizing, magnificent second, finally smiled. A slow, cold, and deeply satisfied smile.

’There it is. That’s the look. The despair. The hopelessness. The complete, final acceptance of her fate. She is finally, completely, broken.’

His gaze, fixed on her magnificent, defeated, and now utterly vulnerable form, burned with a possessive, lustful fire.

’Perfect. Time for the savior to make his entrance.’