Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

The cavern was silent, save for the crackle of the chandeliers.

The Blood-Iron Syndicate had ceased to exist.

Commander Mo and the shadow guards were standing in a loose perimeter, their swords drawn, securing the area.

The freed captives were hastily grabbing cloaks and provisions from the fallen bandits before fleeing up the ramp toward the surface.

In the center of the cavern, standing amidst the horrific, bloody aftermath of his Azure Severing Threads, was Xiao Yichen.

He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath the ruined, blood-soaked peach silk.

The massacre was complete, and his vengeance had been exacted.

He slowly turned his head as Ji’an and Xuan approached.

His dark eyes found Ji’an’s. The manic, terrifying bloodlust that had fueled his slaughter slowly began to recede, replaced once again by that heavy, suffocating, entirely ambiguous longing.

He looked at her, who was covered in mud, soot, and the dust of shattered locks. She looked at him, who was covered in blood, gore, and torn women’s clothing.

They were a catastrophic, utterly ruined pair.

Ji’an stopped ten feet away. She didn’t flinch from the gore or offer a polite bow.

She just stared at the sociopathic prince who had slaughtered an army because he had been forced to wear a dress.

"Are you finished having your tantrum, Your Highness?" Ji’an asked, her voice dry, completely shattering the heavy, dramatic tension in the cavern.

Yichen blinked. The sheer audacity of the question caught him entirely off guard.

A slow, genuinely amused, incredibly dark chuckle escaped his lips, echoing in the bloody hall.

"I am adequately pacified, Royal Uncle," Yichen purred, stepping over the severed arm of a bandit as if it were a fallen branch. He snapped his blood-spattered folding fan open with a flick of his wrist. "The trash has been taken out. The captives are free. And I believe I have secured the top rank on your little sect leaderboard."

He offered a sweeping, mocking bow, the ruined peach silk fluttering around him.

"Shall we resume our journey to the capital? I believe I require a change of clothes."

Ji’an rolled her eyes, throwing her spatula over her shoulder. "If you ever make me wear a dress again, Yichen, I am leaving you in the dungeon."

"I would expect nothing less," Yichen smiled, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the surface, leaving the ruined, empty shell of the Blood-Iron Syndicate behind them.

***

The subterranean stronghold of the Blood-Iron Syndicate had been thoroughly, systematically gutted.

The freed captives had long since fled toward the surface, disappearing into the mist of the provincial borderlands.

Commander Mo and his shadow guards were conducting a final, methodical sweep of the caverns, erasing any trace of Imperial involvement.

Lin Ji’an stood near the base of the massive stone staircase leading to the exit, wiping the soot and grime from her Black Iron Spatula with a torn rag, ready to leave this nightmare behind.

"Wait! You! Wait for me!"

The shrill, desperate voice echoed through the ruined, blood-splattered mess hall, shattering the grim silence.

Ji’an stopped, turning around with a heavy sigh, her culinary-enhanced senses already anticipating another headache.

Emerging from the shadows of a collapsed corridor, stumbling over the debris of shattered tables and fallen bandits, was a young girl.

She couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen, teetering on the very edge of coming-of-age.

Despite the dirt smudging her cheeks and the frantic, wide-eyed terror in her gaze, her beauty was undeniable.

She possessed porcelain skin, delicate, doll-like features, and wore the torn remnants of what had clearly once been incredibly expensive, high-grade silk robes.

She was exactly the type of high-value, aristocratic tribute Blood-Hand Tu targeted.

But as the girl scrambled closer, Ji’an’s brow furrowed in profound confusion.

’The dungeon doors have been open for the past twenty minutes,’ Ji’an calculated, resting her spatula against her shoulder. ’Commander Mo cleared the path to the surface. The other captives are miles away by now. Why didn’t she run with them? Why is she running back to this hellish place?’

Before Ji’an could voice the question, the girl reached the bottom of the stairs.

She took one look at the terrifying, scarred visages of the shadow guards.

She took one look at the towering, blood-soaked figure of Xiao Yichen, who, despite having finally discarded the ruined peach silk dress for a dark cloak scavenged from the royal luggage, still radiated an aura of unhinged, sociopathic murder.

And then, her eyes locked onto Lin Ji’an.

To the terrified girl, Ji’an was a beacon of sanity in a cavern of monsters.

Disguised as a young master, wearing a mud-splattered white tunic and a gray apron, Ji’an didn’t look like an assassin.

She looked like a dashing, albeit incredibly messy, heroic rogue who had just cleaved through the darkness to save them.

The girl didn’t hesitate. She didn’t bow. She launched herself forward like a heat-seeking missile.

"Oof!" Ji’an grunted as the girl collided with her, throwing her arms around Ji’an’s waist, burying her tear-stained face into the fabric of the gray apron.

"Take me with you!" the girl sobbed, her delicate fingers gripping the apron strings with white-knuckled desperation. "Don’t leave me in the dark! You have to take me away from here!"

Ji’an stood frozen, her arms hovering awkwardly in the air.

She looked down at the top of the girl’s head, completely baffled by the sudden, aggressive display of dependency.

"Uh. Hi," Ji’an said eloquently. "Listen, kid, the exit is right there. You can just walk up the stairs. You’re free now, go wherever you wish."

"No!" the girl shrieked, her grip tightening until it threatened to cut off Ji’an’s circulation. "There are monsters in the woods! I won’t go with the commoners! You saved me! You are my hero! You must carry me!"

Xiao Yichen, standing ten feet away, slowly turned his head.

The dark, bottomless abyss in the Prince’s eyes returned with catastrophic velocity, as he stared at the girl’s arms wrapped around Ji’an’s waist.