Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 963: Hua Yimei Surrenders

The silence of the night in the Cloud-Peak Pavilion was heavy, laden with the scent of musk and the electric tension of forbidden desire. Inside the meditation chamber, the amber light flickered across the skin of the Young Sect Mistress, casting the hollow of her throat and the valley of her cleavage in sharp, tantalizing relief.

Outside, hidden in the shadows of the spirit-willow tree, Sect Leader Hua Yimei felt as though her heart was being squeezed by a cold, iron hand. Her cultivation base, usually a roaring river of power, felt stagnant, choked by the sheer horror of what she was witnessing through the gap in the curtains.

She watched her daughter, her precious Hua Ling, lower her body. She saw Hua Ling's slender, manicured hands slide down Wang Jian's chest, tracing the definition of his abdominal muscles with a reverence that bordered on worship. She saw the way Hua Ling's hair cascaded forward, a curtain of silk that brushed against Wang Jian's skin, and the way her crimson dress gaped open, offering him everything.

'No...' Hua Yimei thought, her nails digging into the bark of the willow tree until they splintered. 'Ling'er... have you no shame? He is a wolf... a beast...'

But deep down, Hua Yimei knew the truth. Hua Ling didn't see a beast. She saw a hero. She saw the man who had caught her when she fell from the sky, who had taken a blood arrow for her, who had promised her a future. Hua Ling was operating on love and gratitude, emotions that Wang Jian had weaponized with surgical precision.

Inside the room, Wang Jian's eyes were half-closed, his expression one of hedonistic enjoyment. But his spiritual sense was razor-sharp, focused entirely on the woman outside the window. He could feel her aura trembling. He could taste her despair.

He decided to pour salt in the wound.

He projected a spiritual transmission, a narrow beam of thought that pierced the night and echoed directly in Hua Yimei's mind.

'You are quite the voyeur, Sect Leader. Do you enjoy watching your daughter serve me?'

Hua Yimei flinched violently, a gasp stuck in her throat. His voice in her head was like oil—slick, dark, and impossible to wash away.

'Look at her,' Wang Jian's voice continued, mocking and cruel. 'She is a natural. Her hands are soft, but her intent is fiery. She dressed up just for me, Yimei. She bought that dress in secret, hiding it from you, saving it for this very moment. She wants my Yang essence.'

Hua Yimei wanted to scream, to blast the pavilion apart, but the memory of the recording—the image of her own degradation—paralyzed her. If she intervened now, if she stormed in, Wang Jian would release the proof. Her daughter would see her mother not as a protector, but as a hypocrite who had slept with the same man. The shame would shatter their relationship forever.

Inside the room, Hua Ling grew bolder. The heat radiating from Wang Jian's body was intoxicating. She moved her hands lower, her fingers grazing the waistband of his loose trousers.

"Young Master," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Is this... pleasing to you?"

Wang Jian reached out and cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. "It is very pleasing, Ling'er. But you are still holding back."

He guided her hands. He moved them to his thighs, forcing her to feel the hard muscles there. Then, he gripped her waist.

"Climb up," he commanded softly.

Hua Ling obeyed without hesitation. She lifted her leg, the high slit of her crimson dress falling away to reveal the creamy expanse of her thigh all the way to her hip. She straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the soft cushions of the divan. She didn't settle her weight fully on him yet; she hovered, her inner thighs brushing against his hips, her femininity dangerously close to his erection.

The position was intimate, lewd, and undeniably sexual.

Outside, Hua Yimei squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking out.

'Open your eyes, Sect Leader,' Wang Jian commanded in her mind. 'Don't miss the best part. Look at how she looks at me. That isn't the look of a victim. That is the look of a devotee.'

Hua Yimei forced her eyes open. She saw Hua Ling leaning forward, her hands resting on Wang Jian's shoulders. The crimson dress was bunched up around her waist. From Hua Yimei's angle, it looked as though her daughter was already offering herself to him.

'She is lost...' Hua Yimei thought, a sob racking her chest. 'He has twisted her mind completely.'

Inside, Hua Ling lowered her head. She kissed Wang Jian's neck, her lips parting to taste the salt on his skin. She ground her hips slightly, a tentative, instinctive movement fueled by the friction and the heat.

"Oh..." she moaned softly, feeling the hard ridge of him beneath her. The sensation sent a jolt of liquid fire through her veins. "You are... so big..."

Wang Jian chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. He ran his hands up her back, his fingers tracing her spine, before settling on her neck. He tilted her head back, exposing her throat.

He kissed her. It wasn't the chaste kiss of a promise; it was a hungry, devouring kiss. He bit her lower lip, forcing her mouth open, his tongue invading to duel with hers.

Hua Ling melted. Her arms tightened around his neck. She pressed her breasts against his chest, flattening the soft flesh against his hard muscles.

Wang Jian sent another message to the weeping mother outside.

'Is this mere massage all she will agree to? I think not. Look at her hips, Yimei. She is grinding against me. She is wet. I can smell it.'

Hua Yimei clapped her hands over her ears, as if that could stop the telepathic voice. It couldn't.

'If I want to,' Wang Jian threatened, his mental voice turning cold and sharp as a blade, 'I can take her purity right here, right now. I can tear that flimsy red rag off her body, spread her legs, and break her seal. I can make her mine forever. And she will thank me for it.'

Inside the room, Wang Jian's hand moved. He slid his palm down Hua Ling's back, over the curve of her buttocks, and slipped it under the hem of her dress.

Hua Ling gasped into the kiss, her body jerking, but she didn't pull away. She widened her legs, allowing his hand access to her bare thigh.

Hua Yimei watched in horror as his hand disappeared beneath the crimson silk. She imagined his fingers touching the skin she had bathed when Hua Ling was a baby, the skin she had sworn to protect.

'If you want to prevent that...' Wang Jian's voice hissed, offering the devil's bargain. 'Then tell me now. Take her place. Come serve me instead. Come finish what we started in the cave. Or else... I will reluctantly accept Ling'er's body. She is young, tight... perhaps I will enjoy her even more than you.'

The ultimatum hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

Hua Yimei was torn apart. Her pride screamed at her to run, to gather the elders, to fight him. But her logic, cold and brutal, told her she would lose. He held the recording. He held the antidote to her cultivation "shackle." And now, he held her daughter's virtue in his hand.

If she did nothing, Hua Ling would be ruined. Not just physically, but spiritually. She would become the plaything of a man who saw women as resources.

'I can't let him have her,' Hua Yimei thought, her heart shattering. 'I am already broken. I am already soiled. But Ling'er... she is still pure.'

Inside the chamber, the atmosphere shifted. The playful seduction evaporated, replaced by a raw, heavy lust.

Wang Jian broke the kiss. He looked deep into Hua Ling's glazed eyes. Her lips were swollen, her breath coming in short pants.

He cupped her face with both hands. He spoke aloud, his voice clear and projecting slightly, ensuring the eavesdropper outside heard every syllable.

"Ling'er," he said, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "I am feeling... uncomfortable. The fire is rising. Your beauty is testing my restraint."

Hua Ling looked at him, her eyes filled with a desperate, innocent longing. "Young Master?"

"Can I take you now?" Wang Jian asked directly. "Will you give yourself to me completely? Body and soul? Will you let me make you a woman tonight?"

It was the final test. The precipice.

Hua Yimei held her breath, praying to the ancestors that her daughter would come to her senses, that she would remember her teachings about propriety and self-respect.

'Say no, Ling'er,' Hua Yimei begged silently. 'Please, say no.'

Hua Ling didn't hesitate. Not for a fraction of a second. The grooming had been absolute. The months of "medical treatments," the shared secrets, the heroic rescue—it had all led to this moment.

"Yes!" Hua Ling whispered frantically, nodding her head. "Yes! Please, Young Master! Take me! I want to be yours! I have dreamed of this!"

The words were a dagger in Hua Yimei's heart. Her daughter wasn't being forced. She was begging for it.

Hua Ling reached down. Her hands fumbled with the waistband of Wang Jian's trousers. She was clumsy with inexperience, but her intent was clear. She wanted to release him.

Wang Jian looked towards the window. His eyes locked onto the gap in the curtains. Even in the darkness, Hua Yimei felt the weight of his gaze. He smirked—a cruel, triumphant expression that said, 'I told you so.'

He leaned back, allowing Hua Ling to undo the first knot of his belt. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, preparing to initiate the final act.

Hua Yimei broke.

A frantic, screaming spiritual transmission slammed into Wang Jian's mind, filled with panic and surrender.

'STOP! Don't touch her! I beg you! I will come! I will serve you! Just send her away! Do whatever you want with me, just don't ruin her!'

Wang Jian froze. His hand, which had been about to push Hua Ling's dress off her shoulders, stopped mid-air.

He held the pose for a second, savoring the victory. The Queen had fallen to save the Princess.

He looked down at Hua Ling. She had just managed to loosen his belt. Her face was tilted up towards him, eyes closed, lips parted in anticipation of his kiss.

Wang Jian sighed, a sound that feigned immense restraint. He gently caught Hua Ling's hands, stopping her from going further.

"Wait, my dear," he whispered.

Hua Ling opened her eyes, confusion clouding her desire. "Young Master? Did I... did I do something wrong?"

Wang Jian pulled back slightly. He adjusted her dress, pulling the strap back up onto her shoulder. He looked at her with an expression of pained nobility.

"No," he said softly. "You did everything right. You are perfect."

He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"But your words... they have pleased me greatly. Too greatly. You are too precious, Ling'er. You are the Young Sect Mistress. A jewel of the ocean."

He leaned in close, whispering into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. "If I take you now, in the dark, in secret... it would be an insult to your value. You deserve more than a quick coupling in the night."

Hua Ling stared at him, her heart swelling. "Young Master..."

"I want to do this properly," Wang Jian lied, his voice sounding incredibly sincere. "I will speak to my wife, Lingshan, tomorrow. I will tell her of our love. I will make our union official. I want you to enter my household with your head held high, as a recognized partner, not as a hidden mistress."

Tears welled up in Hua Ling's eyes. She was disappointed—her body was aching, her blood burning for him—but the emotional impact of his words was overwhelming. He respected her. He honored her. He wanted to marry her properly.

"You..." she choked out. "You are too good to me. I don't deserve such kindness."

"You deserve the world," Wang Jian said, kissing her forehead chastely. "Now... cover yourself. Before I lose my control."

He helped her stand up. He retrieved her grey outer robe from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders, tying the sash with gentle, deliberate movements.

"Go now, Ling'er," he said, turning her towards the door. "Dream of our future. Leave the rest to me."

Hua Ling turned back one last time. She bowed deeply, her face radiant with happiness.

"Goodnight, my love," she whispered.

She turned and left the room, floating on a cloud of euphoria, completely unaware that she had been used as bait in a trap designed to ensnare her mother.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Wang Jian's benevolent expression vanished instantly. He sat back on the divan, crossing his legs. He didn't adjust his loose robe. He waited.

Outside, Hua Ling exited the pavilion. She was so lost in her daydreams of a wedding and a future with Wang Jian that she didn't notice the shadowed figure standing frozen near the garden gate. She walked right past her mother, humming a soft tune.

Hua Yimei watched her daughter go. She saw the joy on Hua Ling's face. It was a stark, brutal contrast to the pit of dread in her own stomach.

'She is safe,' Hua Yimei thought, a tear sliding down her cheek. 'For tonight, she is safe.'

She looked at the Cloud-Peak Pavilion. The amber light in the window was still glowing. The beast was waiting.

Hua Yimei took a deep breath, steeling her heart. She adjusted her formal Sect Leader robes, smoothing the silk. She checked her reflection in a pool of water. She looked regal, composed.

But inside, she was already trembling.

She walked to the side entrance. She entered the pavilion. The halls were empty; Wang Jian had ensured total privacy.

She walked down the corridor. The door to the meditation chamber opened before she even touched it.

Hua Yimei stepped inside.

The room smelled of her daughter's perfume and Wang Jian's musk. It was a sickly, cloying scent that made her stomach turn.

Wang Jian sat on the divan, exactly where he had been moments ago with Hua Ling. He looked at her. His eyes were dark, amused, and utterly devoid of mercy.

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

HUMMMMMM.

The arrays embedded in the walls flared to life. The Stellar Gravity Suppression Formation activated instantly.

The air in the room became heavy as lead. The spiritual qi condensed, pressing down with the weight of a mountain.

Hua Yimei gasped. Her knees buckled. Even as a Middle-Stage Core Formation expert, she felt her cultivation being sealed, suppressed by the specialized array Wang Jian and Yue Lingshan had designed specifically for this room. Her spiritual ocean became sluggish, her connection to the world severed.

She tried to stand tall, to maintain her dignity, but the pressure forced her shoulders down. She felt weak. Helpless.

"You made the right choice, Yimei," Wang Jian said, his voice cutting through the heavy air.

He looked her up and down.

In her formal robes, she was the picture of authority. High collar, long sleeves, layers of gold and purple silk. But beneath that, Wang Jian knew what lay in wait.

"Look at you," he mused, standing up and walking slowly towards her. "Compared to the bud, the blooming rose is so much more... enchanting."

He circled her. Hua Yimei stood frozen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

"Your breasts are fuller," Wang Jian whispered, standing behind her. "Your hips are wider. Your waist... slender and yielding. You radiate a ripeness that your daughter cannot hope to match for another ten years."

He leaned in close to her ear. "And that face... staring at me with such hatred. It excites me."

He walked back to the divan and sat down, spreading his legs wide. He patted his lap.

"Come here."

Hua Yimei didn't move. Her feet felt rooted to the floor.

"I said, come here," Wang Jian repeated, his voice hardening slightly. "Or should I call Ling'er back? I'm sure she hasn't gone far."

The threat was a lash across her soul. Hua Yimei flinched. She lowered her head, hiding the tears of humiliation that threatened to spill over.

She walked forward. Each step was a battle against her pride. She reached the divan.

"Sit."

She turned and lowered herself onto his lap.

The contact was electric. Even through the layers of her ceremonial robes, she could feel the heat of his body. She could feel the hard, unforgiving ridge of his erection pressing against her hip. It brought back visceral flashbacks of the cave—the pain, the size, the relentless pounding.

She shuddered.

"Good girl," Wang Jian whispered. His arm snaked around her waist, locking her in place. "As long as you are obedient... as long as you serve me well... I won't touch Hua Ling. She will remain pure. She will remain happy."

He leaned back, pulling her with him so she was reclining against his chest.

"Now," he said, his hand moving to the high collar of her robe. "Let's see what you wore for me."