Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"He will participate in the Official Sect Martial Ranking! He will take your missions, and he will accept your spars!"

The entire hall gasped in shock and awe.

To willingly throw a supposedly weak Foundation Establishment cook into a six-month grinder against elite, battle-hardened swordsmen was tantamount to child abuse.

"Master, please, I have a bad knee!" Ji’an stage-whispered, frantically tugging on the hem of Jiu Zui’s purple robes. "I have asthma! I am allergic to physical exertion!"

Jiu Zui ignored her completely, entirely consumed by the blinding, petty pride of a martial parent who refused to let their kid be insulted at a PTA meeting.

"In fact," Jiu Zui bellowed, slamming his fist onto the table, securing Ji’an’s doom with absolute, irreversible finality. "I proudly vouch, before the Heavens and this council, that Lin Ji’an will not remain weaker than any of your pampered, silk-wearing Inner Disciples! Give him six months, and my cook will sweep the floor with every single one of your precious ’geniuses’! He will take the number one spot on your little leaderboard!"

The silence that followed was apocalyptic.

The gauntlet hadn’t just been thrown; it had been strapped to a rocket and launched directly into the face of the entire Celestial Sword Sect.

Behind their masters, the reactions of the chief disciples were instantaneous and diverse.

Lu Jianheng’s eyes ignited with the blinding, aggressive fire of a supreme rival. ’He challenges me?! Excellent. I will show him the true weight of the Sword Peak!’

Gu Zhiwei beamed, practically vibrating with supportive joy. ’Brother Lin is so brave! I can’t wait to spar with him!’

Yan Lie threw his head back and laughed silently, his demonic red eyes flashing with anticipation. ’The Grandmother enters the ring. This is going to be incredibly entertaining.’

And Xie Wangchen...

Wangchen stood perfectly still. But his dark, calculating mind was already running a thousand terrifying simulations.

’If he is entering the rankings,’ Wangchen processed, his jaw tightening. ’Which means they will target Brother Lin. The entire sect will try to strike him down to prove the Drunken Sovereign wrong. They will point their swords at him.’

A slow, chilling, absolute zero aura began to leak from Wangchen’s boots.

’I will break them,’ the Ice Demon resolved silently. ’Anyone who challenges him, who draws a weapon against him, I will shatter their meridians before they can even enter the ring. I will pave his path to the top of that leaderboard with their frozen bodies.’

At the table, the Peak Masters exchanged dark, furious glances. The Drunken Sovereign’s arrogance was a direct insult to their teachings.

Elder Qin Changxu’s lips curled into a cold, vindictive sneer.

"Very well, Martial Uncle Jiu Zui," Elder Qin said, his voice dripping with icy satisfaction. "If you are so confident in your... chef’s abilities. The council accepts your waiver. Lin Ji’an has officially entered the ranking system. I am sure our disciples will be... eager... to test the legendary Dao of the Iron Wok."

The other elders nodded in agreement, a silent, unspoken pact forming between them. They were going to make sure the cook was challenged every single day.

They were going to assign the Drunken Peak the most miserable, grueling sect missions available. They were going to humble Jiu Zui by completely breaking his arrogant apprentice.

Lin Ji’an sat frozen in her plush, comfortable throne.

She looked at her Master, who was currently taking a victorious, smug swig from his wine gourd, looking incredibly pleased with himself for defending her honor.

She looked at the Peak Masters, who were actively plotting her demise.

And she looked at the Protagonists, who were staring at her with varying degrees of bloodlust, excitement, and terrifying, obsessive devotion.

’I am going to die,’ Ji’an realized with absolute, crystal-clear certainty. ’I am not going to die in a demonic war. I am going to die because my alcoholic master has the impulse control of a toddler at a casino.’

The Sect Leader struck the golden singing bowl one final time.

"It is decided!" the Sect Leader proclaimed. "The Official Sect Martial Ranking begins tomorrow at dawn! May the Heavens favor the strong, and may your Dao be absolute! Assembly dismissed!"

As the elders stood up to file out of the hall, Ji’an remained glued to her seat. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a long, muffled groan of pure, concentrated despair.

"Cheer up, kid!" Jiu Zui laughed, slapping her heartily on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "We really showed them! You’re going to be a star! Now, let’s go home. All this political maneuvering has made me hungry, and I’m craving those crystal dumplings."

Ji’an slowly lowered her hands. She looked up at her Master, her dark eyes entirely dead inside.

"Master," Ji’an whispered, her voice hollow. "I am going to poison your dinner. I am going to find the most toxic, soul-destroying mushroom on this mountain, and I am going to bake it into a pie!"

Jiu Zui just threw his head back and laughed, completely immune to her threats, dragging his doomed apprentice out of the hall and into the six-month meat grinder that awaited them.

***

The heavy, gilded double doors of the Grand Ascendant Hall closed with a resounding, echoing boom, sealing the fate of the Celestial Sword Sect’s disciples for the next six months.

Inside the opulent boardroom, the tension slowly began to dissipate as the Peak Masters stood from their thrones, their expressions a mix of grim determination and vindictive satisfaction.

They had successfully cornered the arrogant Drunken Sovereign and legally, officially thrown his upstart, sixteen-year-old apprentice chef into the six-month meat grinder known as the Official Sect Martial Ranking!

Lin Ji’an remained glued to her plush velvet throne, her face buried in her hands.

She didn’t move.

She barely breathed, and was currently experiencing the five stages of grief at an accelerated, violently compressed rate.

’Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance,’ Ji’an’s inner monologue spiraled.