Villainess Breaker: Raising Broken Beauties Against Destiny

BOOM!

Damian crashed into the courtyard wall, cracking the stone behind him as dust exploded everywhere.

He slid down slowly, his hair messy, his robe torn, and blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

For a moment, he did not move because he did not dare to. "Damn... Master... you call this sparring?"

Selvara stood in the middle of the courtyard, her expression calm and untouched. Around her, several thin silver sword lights floated silently.

She looked down at Damian. "Of course it is. That is the reason you are still breathing."

Damian’s mouth twitched. "If that’s the case, then what the hell is the difference between sparring and torture in your eyes?"

But in the next moment, for some unknown reason, maybe because of Damian’s words, Selvara moved again as she raised her fingers.

Damian frowned as his instincts screamed for him to move, so he forced himself to dodge.

[Thunder Flash Steps]

Lightning flashed beneath his feet, and his body vanished from the broken wall.

When he looked back, he was shocked.

SHIIING!

A silver sword light passed through the place where his head had been a moment ago, and the wall behind him was cleanly cut in half.

Damian’s face turned really pale. "Master! Please be honest with me! Why do you want to kill me?"

Selvara looked at him and said calmly, "Do not overreact. This is just sparring. Also, see? You did not die, so just dodge better."

Damian frowned even more and gritted his teeth as flame and thunder erupted around his sword again.

This time, he used all of his power.

[Burning Thunder Sword Art]

This sword strike carried the sharpness of years of peerless comprehension. Damian’s timing, angle, and Qi control were all far better than before.

Meanwhile, Selvara only glanced at it and flicked her finger a moment later. "The power is good, but your sword art is still rough."

CLANG!

The burning thunder arc shattered instantly.

The silver sword light did not stop and struck Damian’s chest, sending him flying again.

BANG!

He smashed into the ground, rolling several times before stopping, and his condition was even worse than before.

More cuts appeared across his arms, shoulders, and chest. His breathing became rough, and his whole body trembled from pain.

Damian lifted his head with difficulty while spitting out blood, staring at Selvara like she was a monster.

"I have years of peerless comprehension in this sword art... and you still call me rough?"

But he could only say it inwardly in his mind.

Meanwhile, Selvara just walked toward him slowly.

"Like I said, the power is good, but your sword intent is still unstable. The footwork you use is also very bad, wasting the power. Although your reaction is fast, your judgment is messy."

She stopped in front of him and looked down. "Again."

Damian’s eyes widened. "Again? Master, I am half dead."

Selvara took out a Blood Qi Recovery Pill and tossed it into his mouth.

Warm medicinal power spread through his body.

His broken breathing slowly stabilized, and some strength returned to his limbs.

Damian stared at her in horror. "No wonder you have a multiplier..."

Selvara narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Damian quickly changed his words. "I said no wonder Master is so strong."

Inside, he was screaming.

"This woman is definitely a demon. She beats me half dead, feeds me a pill, then beats me again. What kind of righteous sect training is this?"

Selvara raised her fingers again, and multiple sword lights gathered around them. "Stand up. We are not finished yet."

Damian slowly pushed himself up, blood still dripping from his sleeve.

Although his grin was ugly, his eyes became sharper. "Fine, come on."

Flame and thunder surged around his sword again. "If I’m going to get beaten anyway, I might as well become stronger from it."

Selvara’s eyes softened for half a breath, and a faint smile appeared on her face as sword light descended.

BOOM!

---

The training continued for another hour.

By the time Selvara finally lowered her hand, Damian was lying flat on the courtyard ground, staring at the sky like his soul had already left his body.

His face looked like someone who had personally experienced the cruelty of the cultivation world three times in one morning.

Selvara stood beside him calmly. "Not bad."

Damian slowly turned his head. "Master..."

Selvara looked down at him. "What?"

Damian raised one trembling thumb. "Now, Master, I am great, right?"

Selvara’s expression remained calm. "Barely acceptable."

Damian almost coughed blood again. "Barely?"

He slowly sat up with great difficulty and placed one hand on his chest. "Master, please don’t torture me every day. At least give me three days of rest every week."

Selvara narrowed her eyes slightly. "Three days?"

Damian nodded seriously. "Yes. Three days. A disciple also needs time to digest battle experience, stabilize his realm, understand sword intent, and reflect on life."

Inside, he was thinking something completely different.

"After all, I need time to give gifts too. I can’t just stay here getting beaten every day."

If he was trapped on Selvara’s mountain all the time, how was he supposed to find more multiplier targets?

How was he supposed to improve?

How was he supposed to enjoy the beautiful treasure chests of this world?

Selvara stared at him silently.

Damian immediately straightened his expression and looked righteous. "Master, this disciple only wants to improve properly."

Selvara said nothing for a few breaths before finally speaking. "Fine."

Damian’s eyes brightened. "Really?"

Selvara nodded faintly. "From now on, I will free you every Saturday and Sunday."

Damian froze. "Only two days?"

Selvara looked at him. "Do you want one day instead?"

Damian instantly shook his head. "No, no, no. Two days is perfect."

His face quickly filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Master. As expected, Master is strict on the outside but warm on the inside."

Selvara glanced at him. "Say one more useless sentence, and Sunday disappears."

Damian immediately shut his mouth, but inwardly, his grin had already spread wide.

"Good. Two free days every week."

For Damian, this was not just rest.

This was business time.