Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

She stood at the main gate of the Lin Mansion, a modest carriage waiting. Xie Wangchen stood beside it, dressed not as a servant, but as a disciple-in-training. He wore dark blue robes that matched hers, a sword taken from Zhaoyu’s collection, strapped to his back.

General Lin stood by the gate to see them off. This was rare. Usually, he only saw off the Heir.

"You are going," the General stated, looking at his ’Third Son’.

"I am going," Ji’an nodded. "The Sword Sect is recruiting. I intend to try my luck."

General Lin looked at Wangchen. He sensed the change in the boy immediately. The General’s eyes widened slightly.

A Flawless Spirit Root? How had his son managed to recruit a genius as a servant?

He didn’t ask. Everyone had secrets.

"The path of cultivation is hard," General Lin said, placing a heavy hand on Ji’an’s shoulder. "Do not shame the Lin name."

"I won’t," Ji’an promised.

"And," the General added, lowering his voice, "If Zhaoyu sends assassins... do not hold back with the spoon."

Ji’an blinked, then grinned. "Understood, Father."

She climbed into the carriage. Wangchen followed, sitting opposite her.

As the carriage rattled away from the capital, leaving the toxicity of the Lin family behind, Ji’an opened the window and looked out at the passing scenery.

"Finally," she sighed. "Free from the drama."

Wangchen watched her. He was peeling an apple with a small knife, the peel coming off in one long, unbroken ribbon.

"Young Master," he said softly.

"Hmm?"

"The Sword Sect," he said, slicing a piece of apple and offering it to her on the tip of the blade. "What is the Main Plot?"

Ji’an choked on her own spit. "What? What main plot?"

"You talk in your sleep," Wangchen said innocently, his dark eyes curving into a smile that was 90% charm. "You said something about ’saving the villain’ and ’game over’."

Ji’an froze. She stared at the apple slice hovering inches from her lips.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," she lied, her heart hammering.

"Of course," Wangchen agreed, pressing the apple against her lip until she opened her mouth to take it. "But don’t worry. Whatever this game is... I will make sure you win."

Ji’an chewed the apple. It was sweet.

But as she looked at the newly empowered, psychologically complex, and overly attentive Villain sitting across from her, she couldn’t help but think:

I think I might have created a monster to save myself from a monster.

[System Notification: Main Plot Initiated. Destination: Celestial Sword Sect. Warning: The Protagonists are gathering.]

***

The morning mist still clung to the stone tiles of the West Courtyard, swirling around Lin Ji’an’s ankles like dry ice on a stage. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of dew and the faint, metallic tang of adrenaline.

In the center of the courtyard, Ji’an moved.

She held a massive, black-iron spatula, custom-forged at her request by the puzzled clan blacksmith, in her right hand.

To an observer, it might have looked ridiculous. To a martial artist, the pressure radiating from her stance was anything but.

"Center of gravity low," she muttered, repeating General Lin’s gruff instructions from three days ago. "The core is a furnace. The breath is the bellows."

She lunged. The spatula sliced through the air with a terrifying whoosh, executing the opening move of the Lin Clan’s secret technique: The Iron Blood Spear.

Except, in Ji’an’s hands, it had mutated.

Thanks to her unique constitution, when she channeled energy, it didn’t feel like a sharp blade; it felt like boiling oil.

She twisted her waist, transitioning from a stab to a sweeping deflection. This was supposed to be ’Sweeping the Thousand Armies,’ but her muscle memory screamed ’Flipping the Giant Pancake.’

Clang!

The edge of the iron spatula struck a wooden training dummy. The dummy didn’t just break; it exploded. Splinters flew outward, scorched black at the edges by the friction and heat of her Qi.

"Nice," Ji’an panted, wiping sweat from her forehead. "System, log that. ’Scorched Earth Stir-Fry Technique’."

[System Note: Host’s naming sense is atrocious. But combat efficiency has increased by 15%. General Lin’s private tutelage is effective.]

Ji’an grinned. The meeting with her father had been a game-changer.

The General, delighted by her "enlightenment" in the ancestral hall, had taken her to the family’s secret archives. He had given her a manual that was usually reserved only for the Heir.

It turned out that the Lin family’s arts relied on heavy, dense weapons. It was perfect for her. She wasn’t a delicate flower waving a silk fan; she was a tank in a chef’s apron.

"Young Master."

The voice came from the veranda. Ji’an turned, twirling the heavy spatula effortlessly.

Xie Wangchen stood there, holding a basin of warm water and a clean towel.

Ji’an paused. Her breath hitched, just for a second. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The Nine-Petal Golden Marrow Pill had done its work, and then some. It had been two weeks, and the "skeleton boy" was gone.

In his place stood a youth who was beginning to look dangerously like the "Calamity Lord" described in the books, only without the murder-y vibe.

His skin was jade-white, glowing with health. His hair, once matted, was now a waterfall of ink, tied back with a simple blue ribbon.

He had grown taller, filling out the servant robes Ji’an had bought him, though they were already starting to look a bit short at the wrists.

But it was his eyes. They were clear, sharp, and currently fixed on her with a level of intensity that made Ji’an feel like she was the one being studied under a microscope.

"You’re staring," Wangchen said, stepping down into the yard.

"I’m inspecting my investment," Ji’an countered smoothly, tossing the spatula onto the weapon rack. She took the towel he offered, burying her face in the warm, steam-scented fabric. "You look less like a ghost and more like a person. Good."

Wangchen didn’t smile, but his eyes softened at the corners.