Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"When your mother... when my true wife passed away, Feng swore an oath upon her grave. He swore he would protect you. You and Feng... you are the only children of her blood. The fruit of the only true love I have ever known."

Ji’an’s breath hitched.

The puzzle pieces clicked together with a devastating clarity.

She wasn’t just a half-sibling like Xuan or the sisters.

She and Lin Feng shared the same mother and the same bloodline.

In the toxic, hierarchical nightmare of a noble estate, full-blooded siblings forged bonds out of pure survival. But Lin Feng had been the original host’s entire world before he was deployed to the border.

And Lin Ji’an had transmigrated into this body after he left.

The imposter syndrome didn’t just knock; it kicked the door down and set fire to her confidence.

’He knew her,’ Ji’an’s mind spiraled into panic. ’He knew her better than anyone else in the world. He knew her mannerisms. He knew how she spoke. He knew her fears.’

She looked down at her hands again.

The original host had been a cowering, terrified, fragile girl who hid in the shadows.

The current Lin Ji’an was a foul-mouthed, fiercely arrogant Head Chef who swore at Sovereign Elders, extorted black markets, and casually shattered magical restraints with cooking utensils.

Her posture, her aura, everything was different. The very core of her soul was entirely alien.

’He is going to know, he’ll definitely catch up on this,’ the realization hit her with the force of a physical blow. ’He is going to look at me, and he is going to know that his little sister is gone. He is going to know that a stranger is wearing her skin. What if he calls me out? What if he thinks I’m a demon possessing his sibling?!’

The sheer dread of it happening was paralyzing.

The confidence she had swaggered in with completely evaporated.

She was suddenly terrified, wishing desperately she was back on the Drunken Peak, safely hidden behind a pile of unwashed woks.

BWOOOOM!

The deep, earth-shattering resonance of the Imperial War Horns blasted from the highest towers of the palace, snapping Ji’an out of her internal crisis.

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble.

It wasn’t a chaotic, rumbling earthquake. It was a rhythmic, perfectly synchronized, terrifyingly disciplined vibration.

The sound of ten thousand heavy, steel-shod boots marching in flawless unison.

The massive iron gates of the Main Plaza slowly groaned open.

A heavy silence fell over the thousands of assembled nobles.

Even the emperor, who had just taken his seat upon the golden dais flanked by his royal guards, leaned forward in anticipation.

From the shadows of the gatehouse, the Vanguard emerged.

They did not march; they flowed like a river of polished steel and dark blue silk. These were not the pampered, parade-ground soldiers of the capital.

These were men who had lived, bled, and survived in the frozen hellscape of the Northern Barrens.

Their armor was scarred with claw marks, and their cloaks were tattered at the edges. But their eyes burned with a fierce pride.

They parted the crowd, marching down the central avenue toward the Imperial Dais.

And leading them, riding atop a majestic Armored Frost-Lion that easily stood ten feet tall at the shoulder, was the Vanguard Commander.

Lin Feng.

Ji’an stared. The breath completely vanished from her lungs.

If Xiao Yichen was the epitome of toxic, ethereal, sociopathic beauty, and Xie Wangchen was the embodiment of flawless, icy perfection... then Lin Feng was a god of war carved directly from an ancient, unyielding mountain!

He was breathtaking.

He possessed the same aristocratic, sharp features of the Lin bloodline, but the brutal northern winds weathered his face.

His skin was tanned, radiating a healthy, rugged vitality. His dark hair was tied back in a severe military topknot, and a faint, silver scar cut through his left eyebrow, a badge of honor that only accentuated his intense, commanding masculinity.

He wore heavy, battle-scarred silver armor draped in a dark blue cape that swept over the back of his massive spirit-beast mount.

He exuded an aura of absolute, unwavering calm.

He was the anchor in the storm, the man who could hold the line against the end of the world without breaking a sweat.

As he rode into the plaza, a collective, breathless sigh rippled through the courtyards.

Every single unmarried noblewoman and a significant portion of the married ones actively leaned forward, their fans fluttering wildly, their eyes wide with feral infatuation.

"He is so magnificent," a princess whispered loudly from the royal pavilions.

Ji’an didn’t notice the swooning crowds.

She didn’t notice the Emperor standing up to offer a rare, respectful bow of his head.

She was hyperventilating internally, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

’He is terrifyingly perceptive,’ Ji’an’s tactical brain analyzed the Commander’s calm, sweeping gaze. ’It may seem like he is looking at the crowd, but he is categorizing potential threats. He’s reading even the slightest micro-expressions. He’s going to see right through me.’

Lin Feng halted the massive Frost-Lion at the base of the Imperial Dais.

With a fluid, practiced grace that defied the weight of his heavy armor, he dismounted, the heavy metal plates clanking against the obsidian stones.

He stepped forward, falling to one knee before the Emperor, driving his fist into his chest in a flawless military salute.

"Your Majesty," Lin Feng’s voice echoed across the silent plaza.

It was a deep, resonant, impossibly smooth baritone.

It was the same voice from the phantom memory. It was a voice that commanded absolute obedience, yet resonated with a profound, stabilizing warmth.

"The Northern Barrens are secured. The Vanguard has returned to serve the Azure Empire."

The Emperor smiled, raising his hands grandly. "Rise, Commander Lin! The Empire owes you a debt that gold cannot repay! Today, you are not a soldier! Today, you are the honored son of the realm! Go to your family!"