Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

She couldn’t let this happen.

Just staying back and seeing Ji’an get seriously injured or almost dying... she couldn’t accept it.

Ling’er slowly lowered her ceremonial dagger. She reached to her waist and unclipped the green jade Lifeline Token.

The smooth jade felt heavy in her palm. If she crushed this, she would fail.

The Third Princess of the Empire was eliminated in the first round of the Outer Sect tournament.

The humiliation would be legendary. Her brothers would mock her, the people of the court would whisper.

She looked up. Ji’an was surrounded by four spirits, her movements slowing, her golden Qi flickering as exhaustion began to take its toll.

’My pride is not worth his life,’ Ling’er thought.

The spoiled, arrogant girl who had demanded Wangchen be her servant just a week ago vanished, replaced by a young woman possessing the true, noble dignity of the royal bloodline.

Ling’er struggled to her feet, balancing entirely on her good leg.

"Senior Brother Lin!" Ling’er’s voice rang out, clear, imperious, and completely steady. It cut through the wailing of the ghosts and the clash of combat.

Ji’an knocked a spirit away and glanced back over her shoulder, her chest heaving. "What are you doing standing up?! Sit down!"

Ling’er didn’t sit down. She looked directly into Ji’an’s dark, exhausted eyes. She offered a small, genuinely beautiful, and terribly sad smile.

"You told me earlier that knowing when to retreat is the highest form of martial wisdom," Ling’er said, her voice projecting across the crowded hut. "I am a burden to you. I cannot fight, and I cannot run. I will not let my royal pride be the chain that drags a true cultivator down."

Ji’an’s eyes widened as she realized what the Princess was holding. "Ling’er, wait—"

Ling’er turned her gaze to the remaining, terrified disciples of Class 9 and Class 7. She channeled her royal authority, standing tall despite her ruined ankle.

"Look at yourselves!" Ling’er commanded, pointing at the shivering, wounded students. "You are fighting for rank, but you are costing him his life! There is no honor in being a dead weight! If the Third Princess of the Empire can admit defeat and forfeit her pride for the sake of her comrade, then what excuse do you have?!"

The words hit the room like a physical shockwave.

Ling’er didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look back. She raised the green jade token in her fist and squeezed with all her might.

CRACK!

The jade shattered into dust.

A pillar of blinding, pure white light erupted from the floorboards, enveloping Princess Zhao Ling’er completely.

The ghosts shrieking near her were instantly vaporized by the teleportation array’s absolute energy.

Ling’er looked at Ji’an one last time through the brilliant light. "Win the tournament, Senior Brother Lin. And thank you... for the stew."

The light shot into the sky, tearing through the roof of the hut. When it faded, the Princess was gone.

The silence left in the wake of the teleportation was profound, broken only by the continued wailing of the spirits outside the door.

But the Princess’s sacrifice had achieved exactly what she intended. The psychological dam broke.

"She’s right," a wounded Class 7 disciple sobbed, dropping his sword. "I can’t feel my arm. I’m just in the way."

He crushed his token.

FLASH!

He was gone.

"Boohooo! I don’t want to be a ghost!" Liu Liu cried dramatically, tears ruining her face. She looked at Ji’an. "I’m sorry, Boss! I’ll see you back at the Sect!"

She crushed her token.

FLASH!

One by one, the injured, the terrified, and the weak realized the futility of their pride.

The flashes of white light illuminated the dark hut like a strobe light, banishing the shadows and clearing the room.

Within sixty seconds, the crowded, chaotic hut was practically empty.

The only people left were Zhang Min, who was uninjured and fiercely stubborn, and Tang Bo, who was too loyal to leave despite shaking like a leaf.

Mo Wuchen, who was staring up and currently analyzing the structural integrity of the roof, and Su Wan, who refused to forfeit out of sheer, terrifying ambition, and last but not least, Lin Ji’an.

Ji’an stood in the center of the room. The oppressive, suffocating weight of having to protect a dozen moving targets vanished entirely.

She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck.

The golden light of her Yang Qi, which had been stretched dangerously thin to cover the entire room, snapped back to her, concentrating solely around her body and her spatula.

The glow intensified, turning from a warm gold to a blinding, furious white-hot orange. The ambient temperature in the hut skyrocketed, evaporating the frost the spirits had brought in.

Ji’an let out a long, slow exhale. A fierce, unburdened, and incredibly dangerous smirk spread across her face.

"Alright," Ji’an whispered, gripping the handle of her Black Iron Spatula with both hands. She looked at the horde of spirits pouring through the broken doorway, her eyes blazing. "The kids have gone home. Which means... I don’t have to hold back my AoE attacks anymore, right?"

She spun the spatula, the iron singing as it cut through the air.

"Dinner rush is starting," Ji’an announced to the ghosts. "Who wants to get flambéed first?"

***

With the weaker disciples safely teleported away and the oppressive burden of protecting a stationary perimeter lifted from her shoulders, Lin Ji’an finally let off the brakes.

For the first time since transmigrating into this chaotic, trope-filled cultivation world, she stopped playing defense.

Finally got a chance to work out all her frustrations, why would she hold it back?!

"Tang Bo, Zhang Min, Su Wan," Ji’an barked without turning her head, her eyes fixed on the surging tide of translucent, wailing spirits. "Stay inside the garlic line. If anything breaches the door, stab it with something coated in your own blood; the Yang energy will repel them. I’m going to the source."

"The source?!" Tang Bo squeaked, clutching his skillet. "Boss, you can’t go out there! There are more than a hundred of them!"