Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

Lu Jianheng gritted his teeth, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword in sheer, capitalist-induced rage.

Xiao Yichen simply chuckled, stepping back into the shadows, entirely entertained by the Merchant Prince’s ruthless flex.

In her booth, Lin Ji’an slowly raised her hands and began a slow, respectful clap.

"Master," Ji’an whispered, staring at Wen Shiru’s booth with profound, chef-like admiration for a man who understood profit margins. "I take back every bad thing I ever said about the capitalist. He is a menace, and I respect him immensely."

Jiu Zui snorted, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. "He’s a bean-counter. It’s boring to sit here and see kids squabble. Let’s buy something."

Over the next hour, Jiu Zui proceeded to live up to his reputation as a chaotic wastrel.

Whenever an item appeared that possessed even a mild defensive capability, Jiu Zui slammed the Sect Leader’s medallion against the bidding console.

He bought Ji’an a Silk-Weave Nullification Cloak, capable of absorbing three full-force Golden Core strikes.

He bought her a set of Spatial-Distortion Bracelets, too, allowing the wearer to short-range teleport out of grapple holds.

He even bought her a pair of incredibly expensive, enchanted Wind-Step Boots that eliminated the sound of her footsteps.

"Master, you are spending hundreds of thousands of spirit stones!" Ji’an hissed as another massive purchase was approved. "The Sect Leader is going to notice a chunk of his treasury missing!"

"Let him notice!" Jiu Zui laughed, entirely unbothered. "What’s he going to do? Fire me? I’m tenured! Besides, you’re the sole heir to the Drunken Peak. Naturally, you deserve the best of everything!"

Ji’an looked at the pile of high-tier, incredibly powerful artifacts piling up on the velvet couch next to her. A strange, warm feeling settled in her chest.

She had spent her entire previous life fighting tooth and nail for every scrap of recognition, every promotion in the kitchen. She had never had someone just... take care of her like this.

’He’s a mess,’ Ji’an thought, looking at the Drunken Sovereign, ’but he’s a good Master. A terrifyingly irresponsible, financially ruinous, deeply supportive Master.’

By the time the main auction began showcasing ancient sword manuals and boring pill recipes, Ji’an was practically vibrating with boredom.

"Master," Ji’an leaned over, poking Jiu Zui’s arm. "This is too sterile. It’s just rich people flexing. Where is the grime? Where is the danger? You promised me the gutter."

Jiu Zui looked at her, his amethyst eyes gleaming in the dim light of the booth. "You sure, kid? The Black Market isn’t a playground. It’s where the rogue cultivators, the demonic practitioners, and the desperate go. The rules of the Celestial Sword Sect don’t apply down there. If someone decides they like your new boots, they won’t outbid you. They’ll just cut your feet off."

"I have a cast-iron spatula and a Master who can drink a mountain under the table," Ji’an replied, her chin tilted up in arrogant defiance. "Take me to the illegal stuff. I want to see if they sell any forbidden things."

Jiu Zui stared at her for a long moment before a wide, dangerous grin split his face.

"Alright, you glutton. But you stick to me like glue. And put the hood of that new cloak up. We don’t need anyone recognizing the uniform of a Third Generation Martial Uncle down in the muck."

They slipped out of the VIP booth before the auction concluded.

Jiu Zui led her away from the towering, gilded spires of the city center, moving toward the deep, shadowed crevices of the canyon walls.

The pristine white stone streets gave way to uneven, cracked cobblestones. The bright, glowing spirit-lamps were replaced by flickering, sickly green witch-fire lanterns.

The air here smelled different. It didn’t smell of incense and wealth. It smelled of ozone, stale blood, and the metallic tang of cursed artifacts.

They approached a dilapidated, sagging tavern built into the side of a cliff. The wooden sign swinging above the door simply depicted a severed, skeletal hand.

Jiu Zui didn’t knock. He kicked the door open.

The tavern was packed with cloaked figures, massive, scarred mercenaries, and pale, sickly-looking cultivators who radiated dark, Yin-heavy energy.

The chatter died instantly as they entered. A dozen hostile glares locked onto them.

Jiu Zui didn’t flinch. He walked straight to the bartender, a massive man missing half his face to a burn scar.

Jiu Zui slammed a heavy pouch of spirit stones onto the sticky wooden counter.

"Two tickets to the basement," Jiu Zui rumbled, his voice dropping an octave, radiating a heavy, suffocating wave of pure, unfiltered Sovereign-level killing intent. "And if anyone looks at my companion for longer than three seconds, I’ll feed them their own teeth."

The tavern patrons instantly found their drinks incredibly fascinating, averting their eyes.

The bartender grunted, sweeping the pouch off the counter and nodding toward a heavy iron door behind the bar.

Ji’an, her face completely obscured by the deep hood of her new Silk-Weave cloak, followed closely on her Master’s heels.

Her heart was pounding, a thrilling mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. ’This is it. This is the trashy web-novel underbelly I’ve been waiting for!’

They descended a spiraling, claustrophobic stone staircase that seemed to go down for miles into the very bedrock of the canyon.

When they finally emerged, it was into a massive, subterranean cavern illuminated by glowing, subterranean fungi.

The Black Market Auction was not formal. There were no velvet booths or golden gavels. It was a chaotic, sprawling bazaar.

Cultivators sat on crates or ragged carpets, displaying their illicit wares.

"Don’t touch anything without asking," Jiu Zui whispered, keeping his hand close to the hilt of a rusty sword strapped to his waist. "Half the things here carry blood-curses. The other half will explode."

Ji’an nodded, her eyes wide as she took in the sights.

She saw a vendor selling jars of glowing, suspended eyeballs that actively tracked her movements.