Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

But as Yichen looked at the feral, protective fury blazing in Ji’an’s dark eyes, as he processed the sheer, unadulterated violence she had just unleashed entirely on his behalf, a slow, dark, and utterly twisted flush rose to his pale cheeks.

’He didn’t hesitate,’ Yichen thought, his heart hammering a frantic, exhilarated rhythm in his chest.

To a normal person, attempted crippling was a red flag.

To a sociopath who had spent his entire life surrounded by sycophants, yes-men, and fragile courtiers who bowed to his every whim... it was the most intoxicating, thrilling, undeniably attractive thing he had ever experienced.

Yichen slowly stood up, brushing the mud off his crimson robes. He didn’t draw a weapon as he waved Commander Mo away.

A wide, genuine, completely unhinged smile spread across Yichen’s face.

His dark eyes shone with a heavy, suffocating obsession that made his previous flirtations look like child’s play.

"Magnificent," Yichen whispered, his voice trembling with dark delight. "Truly magnificent. You hide the strength of a dragon beneath that apron, Royal Uncle. If my commander had been a breath slower, I would be crawling. You are utterly, beautifully ruthless."

Ji’an stared at the smiling, mud-stained prince.

Her rage momentarily stalled, completely short-circuiting in the face of his reaction.

’He is blushing?’ Ji’an realised a profound, existential horror washing over her. ’I just tried to shatter his kneecap into dust, and he is looking at me like I just wrote him a love sonnet! What is wrong with these Protagonists?! Why do they all respond to violence with romantic infatuation?! This is beyond just liking this situation.’

"You are sick in the head," Ji’an stated, her voice flat, deciding right then and there to completely, aggressively ignore his foul, twisted antics.

It seems he doesn’t even understand that Lin Ji’an was furious, or why she was at all.

She turned her back on the Prince, completely dismissing his existence.

She hopped down from the ruined carriage, her boots splashing into the mud, and marched directly up to the trembling Commander Mo.

"Commander," Ji’an barked, pointing her spatula at the seasoned assassin.

"Y-Yes, Martial Uncle Lin?" Commander Mo stammered, standing at rigid attention, terrified of the teenager who had just demonstrated siege-weapon capabilities.

"I don’t care about your Prince’s rank. I don’t care about your Sect Mission. And I certainly do not care about your political manoeuvring," Ji’an listed off, her voice cracking like a whip. "Your employer used my little brother as a tracking device. My brother is currently being transported to a subterranean torture chamber."

She stepped closer to the Commander, her dark eyes boring into his soul.

"Give me the tracking compass," Ji’an demanded, holding out her hand. "Give me the blueprints of the cavern system you undoubtedly scouted before orchestrating this ambush. And tell your men to strap on their boots. We are going to breach that stronghold, and we are going to do it my way."

Commander Mo hesitated, his eyes darting toward the Prince for approval.

Xiao Yichen stood in the mud, his dark eyes fixed on Ji’an’s back, his smile never wavering. He offered a slow, elegant nod of his head.

"Give the Martial Uncle whatever he requires, Commander," Yichen ordered smoothly, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "It appears there has been a change in leadership. We are now following the Chef."

Commander Mo hastily reached into his robes, pulling out a glowing silver compass and a detailed parchment map, placing them reverently into Ji’an’s waiting hand.

"Thank you," Ji’an snapped, snatching the intel. She didn’t look back at the Prince. She unrolled the map, her culinary mind instantly switching from recipe prep to tactical assault planning.

’Hold on, Xuan,’ Ji’an thought, her jaw set with absolute, terrifying determination. ’Big sister is coming. And I am bringing a very sharp spatula, a highly motivated squad of assassins, and an unhinged prince as a meat shield.’

The rescue operation was officially underway, and the Blood-Iron Syndicate was entirely unprepared for the Michelin-star wrath about to descend upon them.

***

The dense, suffocating humidity of the provincial borderlands wrapped around the infiltration squad like a wet, heated blanket.

The rain had ceased, but the canopy of ancient, twisting pine trees trapped the moisture, turning the forest floor into a treacherous, sucking quagmire of mud and decaying leaves.

At the head of the formation, marching with a pace so aggressive it practically parted the fog through sheer kinetic anger, was Lin Ji’an.

She held the glowing silver tracking compass in her left hand, her knuckles bone-white.

In her right hand, her Black Iron Spatula rested against her shoulder, radiating a faint, residual heat from the hyper-compressed Dao of the Iron Wok Qi still surging through her meridians.

Trailing a respectful, deeply terrified five paces behind her was Commander Mo and the elite royal shadow guards.

And trailing behind them, entirely unbothered by the mud ruining the hem of his dark sapphire robes, was the Imperial Second Prince, Xiao Yichen.

He walked with the relaxed, elegant gait of a man strolling through a royal garden, his folding fan tapping rhythmically against his chin as he watched the angry, grey-robed chef lead the charge.

Ji’an abruptly stopped.

The shadow guards instantly froze, their hands dropping to the hilts of their swords.

Ji’an didn’t look at the Prince. She pivoted on her heel, her boots sinking two inches into the muck, and marched directly up to Shadow Guard Commander Mo.

Before the seasoned, Golden Core assassin could even offer a formal greeting, Ji’an’s free hand shot out.

She grabbed the front of his reinforced leather armour, twisting the heavy fabric in her fist, and hauled the man down slightly so they were eye-to-eye.

"Speak," Ji’an commanded, her voice dropping into a terrifying, flat baritone that lacked any of its usual cheerful arrogance. "No more political manoeuvring. No more half-truths. Tell me exactly what kind of hornets’ nest your Prince just threw my thirteen-year-old brother into."

Commander Mo swallowed hard.

He was a killer who didn’t bat an eye when he killed countless nobles under the Prince’s command.