Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

Her destination was the Grand Pavilion of Archives, the monolithic, thirteen-story pagoda of knowledge situated at the very center of the Inner Sect.

She had an investigation to conduct.

If the Sect Leader’s Senior Apprentice, Shen Zechuan, possessed a special Mantra, and if the Sect Leader’s sequestered daughter possessed the Supreme Heavenly Yin Body, Ji’an needed to gather data and see if it was true or not.

She needed to know the mechanical limitations of their physiques, historical precedents, and most importantly, how to counter them when the tournament began.

She moved through the sect using the shadow-stepping techniques she had inadvertently learned by dodging Master Jiu Zui’s flying wine gourds.

She avoided the main thoroughfares, bypassed the bustling training arenas, and slipped through the massive brass doors of the Grand Pavilion entirely unnoticed.

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The Grand Pavilion of Archives was a magnificent, awe-inspiring monument to orthodox knowledge.

The circular interior stretched upward for hundreds of feet, lined with seemingly infinite galleries of petrified spirit-wood bookshelves.

Floating, glowing orbs of light drifted lazily through the air like lazy fireflies, illuminating millions of ancient scrolls, jade slips, and leather-bound tomes.

It smelled of dry parchment, aged ink, and the quiet, heavy weight of centuries of stored wisdom.

Ji’an didn’t linger on the ground floor, which was populated by novices studying basic Qi-circulation manuals.

She flashed her medallion to the spectral guardian at the stairs and ascended directly to the restricted second floor, the repository for advanced physiological anomalies, forbidden histories, and high-tier bestiaries.

The second floor was significantly darker, cooler, and deserted.

Ji’an navigated the labyrinthine aisles of towering bookshelves, her fingers trailing over the spines of the ancient texts.

She pulled a heavy, dust-covered jade slip titled Anomalies of the Abyss: The Corrosive Leylines and slotted it into her reading monocle, her silver-flecked eyes scanning the glowing characters rapidly.

"The Void-Devouring Mantra cannot consume physical mass, only spiritual projections," Ji’an read, a triumphant, ruthless smirk touching her lips. "So, if that Shen Zechuan tries to absorb my energy, I just have to hit him in the face with a solid, unenchanted piece of cast iron. Excellent! The spatula remains supreme."

She was just about to reach for a second scroll regarding the Supreme Heavenly Yin Body when the quiet, serene atmosphere of the library was violently shattered.

"BROTHER LIN!"

The voice was loud, incredibly bright, and echoed with the booming enthusiasm of a golden retriever that had just spotted its favorite human holding a tennis ball.

Ji’an didn’t even have time to turn around.

An incredibly solid weight slammed into her from behind.

"Oof!" Ji’an grunted, completely losing her footing as two strong arms wrapped securely around her waist, lifting her entirely off the polished wooden floorboards.

She was spun around and tightly crushed against a broad, solid chest that smelled of sunshine, fresh laundry, and the faint, crisp scent of the southern winds.

"You’re back! You’re really back!" Gu Zhiwei, the Holy Son of the Celestial Sword Sect, cheered loudly, completely ignoring the sacred silence of the library.

He buried his face into the shoulder of her gray cloak, nudging his cheek against her neck like an overgrown, affection-starved puppy. "I heard a rumor that you flipped a table in the capital and threw a roasted duck at a princess! I missed you so much!"

Ji’an let out a long, long-suffering sigh, hanging limp in his crushing embrace.

Gu Zhiwei had clearly leveled up during his time in the southern borders.

His golden hair was slightly longer, tied back in a neat warrior’s tail.

His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and the pure, righteous Yang energy radiating from his core was so bright it practically stung her eyes.

He was the quintessential, flawless, heroic male lead.

And he was currently treating her like a chew toy.

"Zhiwei, put me down," Ji’an wheezed, tapping his muscular forearm. "You are crushing my ribs. And we are in a library. Stop projecting your golden retriever energy into my ear before the spectral librarian fines us."

Zhiwei laughed, setting her down gently, though he kept his large hands resting warmly on her shoulders.

His golden eyes were shining with joy.

"I cannot help it! The southern borders were so miserable, Brother Lin!" Zhiwei complained, a genuine, adorable pout forming on his handsome face. "The rations tasted like tree bark, the beasts were ugly, and nobody knew how to properly season a boar! Every time I tried to sleep, I just kept thinking about your spicy hotpot. I swear, my cultivation stagnated from depression!"

Ji’an couldn’t help it.

The pure innocence of the Holy Son was a refreshing, albeit exhausting, contrast to the dark, possessive brooding of the other male leads.

"Well, you survived well, golden boy," Ji’an smiled, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately, a gesture he leaned into with embarrassing eagerness. "You look stronger. I’ll make you a double batch of hotpot tonight to celebrate your return."

"Truly?!" Zhiwei’s eyes turned into literal, glowing stars. "You are the greatest brother in the Heavens!"

"A touching reunion, to be sure. Though one might argue that physical restraint is a virtue the Holy Son has yet to master."

The voice slid through the dusty air of the aisle like a perfectly oiled, poisoned stiletto.

Ji’an’s hand dropped from Zhiwei’s cheek.

The warm, comedic atmosphere evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, chilling spike of cold.

Stepping gracefully from the shadows of a neighboring bookshelf was Wen Shiru.

The heir to the continent’s most powerful merchant conglomerate, Shiru was the epitome of refined, calculating elegance.

He wore immaculate, flowing robes of deep emerald green silk, embroidered with subtle silver thread that depicted ancient fine arts.

A pair of delicate, silver-rimmed spectacles rested on his sharp nose.

In his left hand, he casually rolled a small, solid-gold abacus, the beads clicking together with a soft, hypnotic rhythm.

He was the "fox" among the male protagonists.

Brilliant, manipulative, and completely ruthless in his pursuit of absolute monopoly.