Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"Relax!" Ji’an barked, moving quickly to pin his shoulders down. "It’s going to hurt! You’ve been living on trash food and taking beatings for years. Your meridians are clogged with silt. The medicine is breaking your bones to reset them!"

"Ahhh!" A strangled cry ripped from Wangchen’s throat. His skin turned red, steaming as if he were burning from the inside.

Ji’an felt his agony through her hands. This was the brutal reality of cultivation. To become a god, one first had to survive the destruction of the mortal self.

A black, tar-like substance began to ooze from his pores, the accumulated impurities of his miserable life. The smell was rancid, metallic, and rotting.

"It hurts..." Wangchen sobbed, his hands clawing at the bedsheets, shredding the fabric. "Let me die... it hurts..."

"You’re not dying!" Ji’an shouted, grabbing a towel and ruthlessly wiping the black sludge from his forehead. "Look at me, Xie Wangchen! Look at me!"

He opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, unfocused, swimming in tears of pain.

"You want revenge, don’t you?" Ji’an hissed, channeling her best ’motivational villain’ voice. "You want to step on the people who stepped on you? You want to make Lin Zhaoyu kneel? You want to spit in the face of the heavens?"

Wangchen’s breathing hitched. The hatred in his heart was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"Then endure it!" Ji’an gripped his hand, her fingers interlacing with his grimy ones. "Pain is the price of power. If you can’t handle this little bit of heat, then you deserve to be a slave!"

It was harsh. It was cruel. But it was exactly what he needed to hear.

Wangchen’s grip tightened around hers until he was nearly crushing her fingers. He let out a low, animalistic growl, biting down on his own lip until it bled.

He didn’t scream again. He forced himself to breathe through the fire that was consuming his marrow.

For three hours, the torture continued.

Ji’an didn’t leave. She stayed by his side, wiping away the foul-smelling toxin, pouring water into his mouth when his throat went dry, and letting him crush her hand.

She watched the transformation happen in real-time. As the black sludge cleared, the skin beneath revealed itself. It was no longer sallow and rough.

It was translucent, glowing with a faint, pearlescent light. His frame, once brittle, seemed to knit itself into something denser, more compact.

But more than the physical change, it was the spiritual one.

Ji’an could feel the ambient Qi of the room rushing toward him, drawn in by a vortex in his dantian.

’He’s doing it,’ she thought, exhausted but amazed. ’He’s forming a Flawless Spirit Root.’

Originally, he would have had a chaotic, dark root suited for demonic arts. Now? Now he was a vessel pure enough to make the sect elders weep with envy.

When the sun rose, the ordeal was over.

Xie Wangchen lay unconscious, his breathing deep and steady. He looked... reborn. The grime was gone thanks to Ji’an using a Cleaning Talisman she bought for 10 points at the last minute because the smell was unbearable.

Ji’an sat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. Her hand, the one he had held, was bruised purple.

"System," she whispered. "Status check." 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

[Target: Xie Wangchen.]

[Root Bone: Flawless Ice-Spirit Root (formerly Damaged Mortal Root).]

[Cultivation Potential: SSS-Rank.]

[Blackening Value: 40% (Significant Drop).]

[Favorability: 30% (New Metric Unlocked).]

Ji’an let out a breath. "Forty percent. Still high enough to murder me on a bad day, but low enough that he probably won’t stab me in my sleep."

She stood up, her joints popping. She needed a bath, a nap, and a very large bowl of noodles.

But before she left, Wangchen stirred.

His eyelashes fluttered, long, dark fans against his porcelain skin. He opened his eyes. They were clearer now, the murky resentment replaced by a sharp, obsidian clarity.

He sat up. He looked at his hands. He felt the surge of power in his veins, a river where there used to be a drought.

He looked at the room. It smelled terrible, lingering notes of the impurity purge. Then he looked at Lin Ji’an, who was trying to sneak out the door.

"Young Master," his voice was hoarse.

Ji’an froze. "You’re awake. Good. Clean up this mess. I’m going to sleep."

"Why?"

The word stopped her.

Wangchen sat on the bed, the sheet pooling around his waist. He looked at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

"That pill," he said slowly, "was worth a city. I can feel it. I... I have never felt this clean. My body... it feels light."

He looked at her bruised hand. He remembered crushing it. He remembered her voice in the darkness, anchoring him when he thought he was dissolving.

"Why give such a treasure to a slave?"

Ji’an didn’t turn around. She couldn’t let him see the guilt on her face.

"I told you," she said, waving her hand dismissively over her shoulder. "I’m heading to the Sword Sect Gathering next month. The journey is dangerous. I need a bodyguard, not a liability. If you died on the road, who would carry my luggage?"

"Just... luggage?" Wangchen asked.

"Just luggage," Ji’an confirmed. "Also, your cooking skills are improving. It would be a waste to let you die before you master the Braised Pork Belly."

She stepped out into the morning light, sliding the door shut behind her.

Inside the room, Xie Wangchen remained sitting. He raised his hand, staring at the palm that now glowed with faint spiritual energy.

"Luggage," he repeated, testing the word.

No one knew what he thought as he closed his fist, feeling the strength there. Strength given to him by the person everyone called a villain.

***

Two Weeks Later.

The day of the Sword Sect Gathering approached rapidly. The system was practically vibrating with notifications, urging Ji’an to start the ’Main Plot.’

But Ji’an had one final order of business.