Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

Lin Ji’an stood amidst the swirling, dissipating ashes of the ancient Ghost Cultivator, her chest heaving with ragged, desperate gasps.

The Black Iron Spatula in her hand, usually a comfortable extension of her own arm, now felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The blazing, golden Yang fire that had wreathed the metal sputtered and died, leaving only the dull, blackened iron cooling rapidly in the damp morning air.

Ji’an desperately wanted to march right over to that crumbling rooftop and beat the living daylights out of the Blood Sovereign, Yan Lie, and then turn around and smack the ever-living pretense out of the Shadow Assassin, Mo Wuchen.

They had watched her fight for her life like it was a dinner theater performance.

But as the adrenaline, that potent, life-saving cocktail of fear and culinary rage, finally began to recede from her bloodstream, reality crashed down on her with the force of a falling mountain.

The Ghost Cultivator hadn’t just inflicted physical damage; his necrotic Yin energy had violently leeched the Yang Qi directly from her meridians.

It was a profound, soul-deep exhaustion that no amount of sleep could instantly cure.

Ji’an took one step forward, intending to point her spatula threateningly at the shadows where Yan Lie had vanished.

Instead, her knees buckled.

The strength simply evaporated from her legs. She pitched forward, the cobblestones rushing up to meet her face.

Whoosh!

A blur of dark combat leathers intercepted her fall. A strong, heavily armored arm hooked roughly under her armpit, hauling her upright with an aggressive jerk.

Ji’an blinked away the dark spots dancing in her vision to see Chi Yun, Yan Lie’s ferociously loyal and currently homicidal servant, glaring down at her.

His gray eyes were filled with a mixture of intense disgust and begrudging obedience.

From the shadows of the alleyway, Yan Lie’s deep, vibrating chuckle echoed. "Carry the Grandmother, Chi Yun. We wouldn’t want him breaking a hip before he makes my breakfast."

Chi Yun’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped.

The humiliation of being ordered to act as a beast of burden for a lowly, gray-robed Outer Sect cook was practically radiating off him in waves of murderous intent. He forcefully turned his back to Ji’an, crouching down slightly.

"Get on, cook," Chi Yun spat, his voice laced with pure venom. "And if you bleed on my armor, I will throw you into the nearest ravine the moment my Lord looks away."

Ji’an stared at the broad, hostile back presented to her. She could practically feel the waves of jealousy and resentment pouring off the servant.

In the original plot, Chi Yun was infamous for arranging "accidents" for anyone who caught Yan Lie’s attention.

’Yeah, absolutely not,’ Ji’an thought, her survival instincts overriding her exhaustion. ’If I get on his back, he’s going to "accidentally" trip and launch me into a wall.’

"I’d rather crawl over broken glass, thanks," Ji’an wheezed, forcefully shrugging off Chi Yun’s grip. She stumbled sideways, her boots scraping against the uneven stone.

Before she could fall again, a pair of soft, delicately perfumed hands caught her arms.

"Senior Brother Lin! I have you!"

It was Su Wan. The White Lotus had rushed forward the moment the battle ended, her pale pink robes stained with soot, her usually pristine hair a mess.

But her wide, doe-like eyes were completely focused on Ji’an.

Su Wan slid her arm firmly around Ji’an’s waist, draping Ji’an’s heavier arm over her own delicate shoulders.

Despite her fragile appearance, Su Wan was still a cultivator; she easily bore the brunt of Ji’an’s weight, pressing her side against Ji’an’s to keep her stable.

"I can walk," Ji’an muttered stubbornly, though she leaned heavily against the girl.

"Do not push yourself, Senior Brother," Su Wan scolded softly, her voice carrying a genuine tremor of worry that entirely lacked her usual manipulative cadence. "You expended your life force to save us. Please, allow me the honor of supporting you."

Chi Yun scoffed loudly, standing up and brushing off his dark leathers as if Ji’an’s very presence had soiled him. "Suit yourself, trash. Bleed out for all I care." With a final, venomous glare, the servant melted back into the shadows to rejoin his demonic master.

Ji’an ignored him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. "Thanks, Junior Sister," she murmured to Su Wan. "You make a surprisingly good crutch."

Su Wan’s cheeks flushed a brilliant, rosy red.

She tightened her grip on Ji’an’s waist, feeling the firm, lean muscle beneath the torn gray robes, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. "It is my privilege, Senior Brother."

They didn’t have to walk far.

As the first, brilliant rays of the morning sun crested the horizon, piercing through the dense, unnatural fog of the deserted village, the seventy-two-hour timer of the Myriad Illusions Lower Realm officially struck zero.

A resonant, crystalline chime echoed across the sky, ringing in the ears of every disciple who had survived the grueling trial.

The green jade Lifeline Tokens strapped to their belts suddenly ignited.

They didn’t glow with the frantic, blinding white light of a shattered forfeit; instead, they pulsed with a steady, warm, golden radiance.

"The trial is over," Zhang Min breathed, dropping his sword to the cobblestones as the golden light enveloped him.

Ji’an felt the spatial magic catch her. The dilapidated, terrifying village, the pile of ghostly ash, and the oppressive Yin energy dissolved into a swirling vortex of golden light.

When the light faded, the heavy, suffocating air of the Lower Realm was gone, replaced by the crisp, thin, ozone-scented air of the Celestial Sword Sect’s mountain peaks.

BOOM!

A massive cacophony hit Ji’an like a physical wall.

They had materialized directly in the center of the grand Assembly Plaza. But it wasn’t the quiet, tense plaza they had left three days ago. It was a roaring, thundering colosseum of noise.

Tens of thousands of disciples, elders, and deacons were on their feet, cheering, shouting, and applauding.