VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C36: Belief
Chapter 36: Chapter 36: Belief
The chaos outside the gates was a cacophony of shattering earth and clashing Qi, a desperate struggle of the old against the new.
But for the youths who managed to slip through the silver veil, the world transitioned into a sudden, eerie serenity.
The first to stumble into the inheritance realm was Jin Pei, his golden armor scuffed but his eyes burning with a manic need to reclaim the dignity he had lost under Shen Haoran's boot.
He was closely followed by Ao Long, then Luo Mingye and Yun Li, alongside a stream of other geniuses from various kingdoms on the Central Region's outskirts.
They emerged into the vast field of spiritual flora, the air heavy with the sweet, medicinal scent of thousands of years of growth.
"Oh, a spirit herb garden," Luo Mingye remarked, her voice carrying a hint of a faint, knowing smile as she surveyed the unharvested field, noting the lack of disturbed earth. "It seems like Young Master Shen didn't even bother taking anything from here. Everyone, why don't you take your pick? After all, although these aren't rare, they aren't exactly common either."
To the scions of the Central Region's outskirts, herbs of this level—Rank 4 and 5—were like chicken ribs: too low-grade to significantly boost their high-level foundations, but too valuable to simply ignore.
At her words, the fragile peace shattered.
The "geniuses" from the lesser kingdoms immediately lunged forward, their refined manners discarded in a flurry of greed.
"Hey! That Golden Striped Ginseng is mine! I saw it first!"
"You took my Thunder Grass! Back off or I'll sever your hand!"
"Don't push! There are thousands of stalks here! Go over to the other side of the ridge!"
Yun Li watched the frantic scramble, his fingers twitching as the pragmatist in him—the man who had lived a life of scarcity on Blue Star—ached to join the fray and hoard every leaf for his own cultivation.
But with Luo Mingye standing gracefully beside him, he couldn't bring himself to show his greedy, ugly side, so he forced a mask of indifferent calm onto his face, though his heart burned with every herb he saw snatched by someone else.
"My, my, they sure are lively."
The voice was like a chime of silver bells, cutting through the shouting of the herb-hunters as a new figure emerged from the silver light of the portal. Yun Li's eyes widened in confusion as he looked the newcomer over.
The individual possessed an incredibly beautiful face, one that could put most fairies to shame, and short, auburn hair that framed delicate features.
Yet, the newcomer wore traditional male clothing, was as flat as a chopping board, and possessed a visible Adam's apple.
Even so, the voice was soft, feminine, and carried a hauntingly beautiful quality.
"Ah, so it's you..." Ao Long growled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "The Heaven's Chosen of the Flower Mountain Sect, Xia Mengyao."
In the Central Region, the title of "Heaven's Chosen" was not handed out lightly, they are given to the most talented youth of any power, decided through no holds barred combat with every other Core Disciples of that power.
Whoever emerged victorious, will be granted that title.
And Xia Mengyao suppressed the geniuses of his sect and claimed that title for himself.
Not to mention the Flower Mountain Sect was the undisputed leader of the Second-Rate Powers, guarded by a genuine Earthly Saint elder whose combat prowess was legendary—a stark contrast to Mingye's grandfather, whose Saint-level status was more scholarly than martial.
That elder was rumored to be on the cusp of the Heavenly Saint realm, and should he succeed, the sect would ascend to the First-Rate ranks overnight.
Xia Mengyao was the pinnacle of that sect's legacy, and at only twenty-five years old, he was already a genuine 1st Stage Golden Core expert, possessing a talent that truly bordered on the standards of the Imperial Capital—unlike Ao Long and Jin Pei, who had required another five years to reach the same heights.
"Mengyao!" Luo Mingye's face lit up with a brilliant smile as she actually hopped toward the newcomer, her earlier poise replaced by the excitement of an old friend. "It's been a while!"
Xia Mengyao offered a gentle, elegant chuckle. "The last time we met... was it during your eighteenth birthday? Are you still using the zither I gifted you?"
"Yes!" Luo Mingye nodded repeatedly, her eyes shining. "I have already reached Rank 3 in Zither Arts!"
"Well, considering you only started four years ago, that is far too impressive," Xia Mengyao noted, his gaze soft.
"Tsk, enough of this. I'm going ahead. I didn't come here to watch a reunion," Jin Pei clicked his tongue, his face sour as he turned and marched deeper into the realm, his golden armor clanking.
"Hmph." Ao Long snorted at Xia Mengyao, his jealousy flaring at the intimacy between the two, before casting a final, warning glare at Yun Li and following after Jin Pei.
"Um, Miss Luo, who is this?" Yun Li asked, stepping forward with a practiced, friendly smile, though he felt a pang of insecurity in the presence of someone so ethereal.
"Oh, this is my friend, Xia Mengyao," Mingye introduced, her voice stumbling for a fraction of a second. "Sh... uh, he is the Heaven's Chosen of the Flower Mountain Sect, and is considered the number one genius outside of the Imperial Capital."
"I see. Nice to meet you." Yun Li extended his hand for a handshake, hoping to establish some level of rapport with such a powerful figure.
"Greetings," Li Mengyao said plainly. His beautiful eyes swept over Yun Li for a brief, disinterested second before he looked away, making no move to take the extended hand.
Yun Li's hand hung in the air, the silence stretching into an agonizing moment of embarrassment.
He slowly lowered his hand, his face still smiling, but deep in the recesses of his soul, a black seed of hatred took root.
'Another one,' he thought. 'Another native looking down on a transmigrator. I'll make you pay for this slight, Heaven's Chosen.'
"Sorry about him, Mr. Yun Li," Mingye said, noticing the tension and offering an embarrassed smile. "Please don't take it to heart. He just doesn't like to be touched by others."
"No, no, it's okay. I understand. Everyone has their quirks," Yun Li said, his voice smooth and forgiving.
"Good. Now, let's go," Mingye said, turning toward the forest where the silver mist was beginning to gather. "Let's ignore these people scavenging for trash and go ahead. The real treasure lies further in."
Mengyao nodded and followed her with effortless grace.
Yun Li hesitated for a heartbeat, looking back at the "trash" herbs being fought over, before he turned and followed the two figures.
*
*
*
The stone walls of the chamber were slick with a prehistoric moss that glowed with a faint, bioluminescent pulse, casting a sickly green light over Shen Haoran's sharp features.
He leaned back against the ancient masonry, the rough texture of the wall contrasting with the exquisite silk of his robes.
His arms were crossed, his posture radiating a terrifyingly cold patience as he stood in the absolute stillness of the room for a duration equivalent to five incense sticks.
In the world of high-level cultivation, where a split second could determine the fate of a kingdom, five incense sticks felt like an eternity.
Just then, Haoran's eyes, which had been closed in a state of meditative detachment, suddenly snapped open.
He turned his gaze toward the wall of gray, churning mist from which he had emerged.
The forest was silent, giving up no clues of the struggle within.
"Five incense sticks," he murmured, his voice echoing with a clinical, detached edge. "Did she fail? After I provided her with the Nine-Colored Dagger and the encouragement of my own presence, did she still succumb to the phantoms of her own mind? How disappointing."
He let out a short, sharp exhale through his nose—a sound of disappointment.
He had given Ning Xueli the chance of a thousand lifetimes, but if her soul was fundamentally brittle, no amount of Central Region resources could forge her into a weapon.
Haoran pushed off the wall, his movements fluid and decisive as he adjusted his sleeves, his eyes fixed on the silver-veined hallway that led deeper into the heart of the Emperor's tomb.
Even if Xueli were gone, it changed nothing for him.
He would simply claim the Bright Silver Emperor's legacy for himself.
After all, a Supreme's inheritance might be "trash" in the eyes of his clan, but power was still power; he could refine the essence, study the unique laws of this region, or simply store it in his clan's archives as a curiosity.
He took a single step toward the inner sanctum, his heart unburdened by the loss of a companion he had only recently acquired.
But as his heel touched the stone, a frantic, ragged sound broke through the silence.
"Haoran! Wait!"
The voice was thin, cracking with exhaustion and desperation, causing Haoran to paused, turning his head just enough to see a figure stumbling out of the shifting mist.
It was Xueli, looking like she had walked through a war zone, her cerulean dress was torn at the hem, her hair was a tangled mess of dark silk, and her face was flushed a deep, unhealthy crimson.
Her breathing was a series of shallow, painful hitches, but as her eyes found him, a flash of raw relief illuminated her face.
She staggered forward, her legs trembling so violently they threatened to give way with every step, but she didn't stop until she reached him, practically collapsing against his chest.
Her hands gripped the lapels of his robes so intense her knuckles turned white, her forehead resting against the cool silk of his collar.
"You... you were about to leave me behind, weren't you!?" she gasped, her voice muffled by his chest.
She could feel the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart—a stark contrast to the chaotic drumming in her own.
Haoran stared down at the top of her head, his expression remaining an unreadable mask of calmness.
"No, I wasn't," he lied, his tone smooth and effortless. "I just wanted to move a few paces ahead to observe the surrounding formations."
Xueli let out a weak, bitter giggle, her grip tightening for a fraction of a second.
"Liar," she muttered, though there was no real heat in the accusation—only the exhaustion of someone who had just looked into the abyss and refused to blink.
She pulled back just enough to look up into his golden eyes, the fear was still there, lurking in the corners of her pupils, but beneath it sat a new, hardened foundation.
"Haoran, I know I'm weak compared to you, and I know I probably don't have the right to say this yet... but please, believe in me. I fought through every regret, every nightmare that forest threw at me, just to see your back again. I will never disappoint you, not now, not ever."
The air in the mossy chamber seemed to still as Haoran looked at her—not as a subordinate or a toy to for him to relieve his stress, but as a piece of iron that had finally begun to feel the heat of the forge.
The fact that she had navigated the Trial of Will despite her mediocre background suggested that her "will" was more resilient than he had initially calculated.
He remained silent for a long moment, before finally, he gave a slow, measured nod.
"Very well," Haoran said, his voice regaining a hint of warmth. "I shall take note of that resolve. That much, I can promise to believe in."
Xueli's face transformed.
The exhaustion seemed to lift as a bright, radiant smile broke across her face—a smile of pure, unfettered joy that made her look more beautiful than any flower had a right to be.
She straightened her dress as best she could, her confidence returning.
She knew the trials ahead would only get harder, but as long as she was walking in his shadow, she felt she could challenge the heavens themselves.
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C37: Trial Of Combat
Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Trial Of Combat
The corridor leading away from the Forest of Will was narrow and lined with silver-veined stone that seemed to pulse in time with Haoran's own heartbeat.
And as he and Xueli ventured deeper into the bowels of the inheritance space, the air suddenly grew heavy, thick with the metallic tang of ancient blood and the humming resonance of a thousand unsheathed blades.
And at that moment, they arrived in a colossal, circular arena.
"An arena, huh? Is the next test about combat skills?" Haoran muttered his breath.
"Most likely. Dammit, I'm bad at combat." Xueli cursed, feeling frustrated.
They stared at the arena, silent, waiting for the trial to began.
And just like that, a beat later, the silence was once again obliterated by that same subterranean, booming voice that echoed not in the air, but directly against the walls of their skulls.
"THE SECOND TRIAL: TRIAL OF COMBAT! ONLY THE VICTOR MAY CLAIM THE FRUITS OF ASCENSION!"
Before Xueli could even gasp, the space between them fractured as a violent spatial distortion, resembling shattered glass, swallowed them both.
When the world stopped spinning, Haoran found himself standing in the center of that colossal, circular arena.
The floor was made of obsidian, polished to a mirror sheen, and the ceiling was lost in a swirling vortex of thunderous gray clouds.
Standing twenty paces across from him was a figure that made Haoran's eyes narrow in fascination.
It was a perfect, structural duplicate of himself. However, this version was devoid of all color—its hair was a dull slate gray, its eyes were like polished ash, and its skin had the hue of weathered stone.
Even its robes were a monochromatic imitation of his own.
"So, I have to fight a mirror of my own essence?" Haoran's lips curved into a predatory, and bloodthirsty smile. "Now this is getting a little interesting. Let us see if you can replicate my skills as easily as you replicate my skin."
With a fluid motion, he reached into his spatial ring, and in a flash of dark light, he produced a pitch-black Tang Dao sword, sheathed in a deep, bruised purple, embossed with silver dragons that seemed to writhe under his touch.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a dormant power within him roared to life.
This was his Heavenly Sword Dao Bone—a supreme physical manifestation of talent that his mother, Chu Xueyu, had surgically extracted from his father's body and implanted into him at birth to ensure his supremacy.
And at this very second, it thrummed with a rhythmic, divine heat.
As he slowly unsheathed the blade, the air in the arena began to scream, the metallic shring of the steel was not merely a sound; it was a declaration, a show of his supremacy.
Once the sword was fully bared, a sharp, suffocating Sword Intent carrying his unique Dao of Supremacy erupted from his body.
His aura was so incredibly sharp that the space around him seemed to fray, and to a lesser observer, simply looking at Haoran at this moment would feel like having their retinas sliced open by invisible needles.
Just as he reached his peak, his gray phantom mimicked his movements with terrifying precision.
It unleashed a near-identical blade, and a near-identical aura of monochromatic gray sword intent surged forward.
The two invisible forces slammed into each other in the center of the arena, creating a visible rift where the air distorted and sparked.
This was a clash of sword intent!
Sword Intent was a tier of power that existed entirely outside the standard realms of Qi.
It was a manifestation of a cultivator's conceptual understanding of the blade.
History spoke of the current Sword Emperor, an independent cultivator who stood as the strongest expert in the Tian Yuan Empire.
Legend had it he was born a common mortal with zero aptitude for Qi cultivation, yet through sheer obsession, he comprehended Sword Intent, shattering the shackles of mortality to become a god among men.
So for those mortal who couldn't cultivate Qi, becoming a sword Cultivator would allow them to walk the path of Cultivation, but the path was punishingly narrow.
To become a genuine Sword Cultivator, one had to first perceive the "flavor" of a sword intent.
This required finding a master willing to unleash their own intent for you to study, just this alone was enough to stop 90 percent of would be sword Cultivator.
After all, in a world where everyone hoarded their secrets, meeting a true Sword Cultivator, and even have them willingly show you their sword intent, was a miracle so rare that most people simply gave up and stuck to the standard path of Qi.
Despite the billions of sword-users in the Empire, those who could forge their own unique intent were as rare as phoenix feathers.
Haoran's eyes flashed with a golden, murderous light as he felt the phantom's intent pushing against his own, a perfect reflection of his current strength.
"Well then," Haoran whispered, his voice cutting through the pressure of the room. "Here I come."
At that moment, he vanished, moving in a blur of golden light and black steel, he reappeared directly in front of the gray duplicate, his Tang Dao coming down in a vertical arc designed to cleave the world in two.
Clang!
The obsidian arena rang with a sound like a collapsing mountain as the two blades met, with the phantom blocking his strike.
But Haoran didn't stop with one attack, he unleashed a relentless, continuous stream of attacks that would've overwhelmed any lesser Cultivators!
Their clash was so violent it seemed to sever the very fabric of space, creating jagged ripples in the air.
Haoran's sword—which he had appropriately named the Black Imperial Sword: Azathoth—vibrated in his grip, letting out a low, hungry hum that sounded like the roar of a cosmic beast.
It was as if the weapon itself was screaming in glee at finally being unleashed upon a worthy obstacle.
Azathoth was no ordinary weapon; it was a Growth-Type Sword that evolved alongside its wielder.
Forged within the crushing gravity of the heart of a dying star and tempered using a crystallized droplet of blood from a god from outside the universe, it possessed a weight and a malice that could crush the soul of a lesser man.
And as Haoran slashed the blade, the Heavenly Sword Dao Bone in his chest pulsed with a blinding brilliance, pumping waves of supreme sword essence through his meridians.
The power burst out with even more ferocity, coating the black blade in a violet-tinged aura of destruction.
Haoran couldn't help but grin, his teeth bared in a look of predatory joy as his Sword Intent hardened, no longer just a pressure, but had become a physical force, piercing through every defensive posture and block the gray phantom attempted.
"Hahaha! It seems even though you have my strength, you are unable to properly use that strength!" Haoran laughed, his voice echoing in the vast, thundering chamber.
He had realized the phantom's fatal flaw. Sword Intent, as the name implies, is an intent—it is a manifestation of the will, a spiritual concept far more nuanced than a mere energy like Qi.
For a true Sword Cultivator, the sharpness and density of their attack were directly tied to the purity of their 'intent to cut.'
The stronger the will to sever the target, the more unstoppable the strike became.
It was true that this gray phantom possessed a physical cultivation and a reservoir of Qi equal to his own, but it was a hollow shell.
It had no genuine 'intent' to cut; it was merely a mechanical puppet, imitating the trajectory of Haoran's attacks without the underlying spiritual fire.
That was the fundamental truth of the martial path: in a battle where two opponents are technically equal in power, there is always one who will inevitably come out on top—the one with the far greater intent to win.
"How disappointing," Haoran sighed, his gaze turning cold as the excitement faded. "I thought I could finally enjoy a fight that would push me. But you're just a fraud, I guess. A shadow without a soul. Hmm, it's time to end this farce."
Haoran moved. This time, his speed transcended the phantom's ability to react as he became a streak of golden lightning, completely surpassing the speed an eye can follow.
Even though the gray copy tried to mimic his velocity, Haoran's sheer relentlessness was too much for the mimic to handle.
With a blur of motion, Haoran first severed the phantom's right arm, the gray blade clattering to the obsidian floor.
A second later, the left arm followed.
Finally, with a clean, horizontal sweep that seemed to fold the very air, he cut the phantom in half.
The monochromatic duplicate didn't bleed; it began to dissolve into a thick, black mist that was quickly swallowed by the shadows of the arena.
"Hmph. I thought I can have some fun, but what did I expect from an inheritance of an Emperor from a Desolate Region."
The moment the phantom vanished, Haoran's vision blurred, leaving those mocking words behind.
Just then, the thunderous arena dissolved, and he found himself standing in a much smaller, quieter room of white stone.
He blinked, surprised to see a familiar figure already there.
Xueli was leaning against a pillar, her clothes torn and her skin marred by several shallow cuts, but she was grinning at him with a look of pure triumph.
"Fufu, it seems this time, I'm the one who waited for you," Xueli said, her voice a bit raspy from exertion.
Haoran stared at her, his eyes sweeping over her disheveled state.
He could see from the way she was just about to sit down that she had likely emerged from her own trial only moments before him.
Even though he had wasted time attempting to "enjoy" his fight and analyze the phantom's nature, it was still undeniably impressive that Xueli—a girl from the "backwater" Eastern Region—had navigated her trial of combat before he had finished his.
He let out a short, genuine chuckle and smiled. "I'm impressed. Truly."
Xueli's grin widened, and she gave him a playful peace sign, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the glow of his praise. "So, shall we go? The big prize is just ahead, right?"
Haoran shook his head as he reached into his space ring, pulled out a translucent jade bottle, and tossed a high-grade healing pill to her. "Go and heal yourself first. Don't be impatient. I have a feeling the next trial will be the final one, and the Emperor's spirit won't be as 'kind' as these illusions."
Xueli caught the pill and nodded, recognizing the wisdom in his words. "Thank you."
She sat down cross-legged on the cold stone floor, tossed the pill into her mouth, and closed her eyes.
As the potent medicine began to knit her wounds together and replenish her Qi, Haoran stood guard, his hand still resting on the hilt of Azathoth, his gaze fixed on the final set of silver doors at the end of the hall.
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C38: Awakening
Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Awakening
Once Xueli was fully healed, the two of them continued their journey deeper into the heart of the inheritance realm, their footsteps echoing against the obsidian floors.
"So, how did you beat your phantom?" asked Haoran, walking in front of her, his hands were clasped behind his back, his stride steady and rhythmic.
"Honestly? I don't know. I just wanted to win, badly. And for someone like me who knew nothing of combat, I was just swinging around my dagger like a wild woman," said Xueli, her face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and lingering adrenaline.
She felt that her performance lacked the elegance of a true martial artist.
Haoran nodded, though he didn't turn around. "No need to feel embarrassed. Any shame will be washed away by victory. It doesn't matter if one has to lie or cheat; as long as you win in the end, that's all that matters."
He paused for a moment, the silver light of the corridor casting long, sharp shadows across his profile. "The world itself isn't fair, and only the victor can be remembered. The losers will be left forgotten by time, their stories rewritten or erased."
Xueli also stilled behind him, staring at his profile.
"Pride? Dignity? You can feed those useless things to the dogs," he continued, his voice cold and devoid of sentiment. "What is the use of such things when you lose? At that moment, your so-called pride and dignity will be trampled upon by the victor. They are merely shackles for those who fear to do what is necessary."
"....Is that how it is?" asked Xueli.
During her time in the Ogre Academy, the Grandmaster and the teachers always emphasized that they must hold themselves up with pride, and that even if they lose, they must lose with dignity.
It was the "way of the warrior" she had been raised on.
But now, looking at Haoran's back, those teachings felt like bedtime stories for children.
"Of course." Haoran turned to stare at her, his golden eyes burning with a terrifying intensity—a will that demanded absolute dominance. "Loss is unacceptable. That's why, Xueli, you must always win, and use whatever means necessary. To lose is to cease to exist."
Xueli stared into his eyes and couldn't help but gulp.
She felt like a small bird caught in the gaze of a predator, but surprisingly, she couldn't look away from those eyes, eyes that seemed to know nothing of defeat and only Victory.
She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yeah, I understand."
Haoran nodded back, satisfied with her answer, and the two continued walking.
Finally, they arrived in a massive hall that defied the laws of architecture.
The ceiling seemed to reach the very sky, lost in a swirling vortex of silver clouds and starlight.
In the center of the hall, a grand staircase with exactly 999 steps rose toward the heavens.
At the very top, shrouded in a divine silver mist, sat an ancient altar.
"This must be it..." Xueli muttered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Hm." Haoran nodded, his gaze fixed on the summit.
Just then, the booming, ancient voice once again resounded through the space, more powerful than ever before.
"FINAL TRIAL: TRIAL OF ENDURANCE! CLIMB THE IMPERIAL STAIRS AND CLAIM THE INHERITANCE OF THE EMPEROR!"
"Let's go," Haoran said, and he immediately took the first step.
The moment his foot touched the stone, he felt a weight press down on his shoulders—a spiritual pressure that attempted to grind his bones into the floor.
However, at this level, it was weak and could be easily shrugged off by anyone with a decent foundation.
Even for Xueli, this much was nothing.
They began to climb, slowly but surely.
The first hundred steps were bearable, even easy. But the moment they stepped onto the 101st step, the pressure suddenly spiked.
It felt as though the air had turned into lead.
After a careful observation, Haoran noticed that the pressure exerted on him was significantly heavier than what Xueli was experiencing.
He realized the stairs were intelligent; the gravity was being adjusted to match their respective cultivation levels.
They continued to climb, and by the time they reached the 201st level, Xueli's face was pale, and suddenly dropped to her knees, gasping for breath, her sweat soaking into the stone.
Haoran frowned and stood over her. "Relax. Don't fight the pressure; channel it. Circulate your Qi through your meridians and use this weight to hammer your bottleneck. Breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment realm right here."
Xueli, exhausted and trembling, stared up at him in disbelief. "B-But, I just broke through to the 9th stage of Qi Gathering earlier today! This... this isn't good, is it? It's too fast!"
"No, it's just right," Haoran countered. "A breakthrough under extreme pressure is far more stable than a breakthrough achieved through pills or peaceful indoor cultivation. The pressure acts as a forge, compressing your Qi until it soldifies. I said it earlier, didn't I?"
Xueli nodded weakly, trusting him implicitly as she immediately sat cross-legged, ignoring the crushing weight, and began to forcefully circulate her Qi.
'Hmm, no wonder those Ogre Seven in Chu Fang's timeline broke through so fast,' Haoran hummed to himself. 'This staircase was essentially a high-intensity training facility.'
However, he could feel that this level of pressure was only truly useful to those at the Core Formation realm or lower.
For him, this was still a walk in the park.
Not to mention his physique was far stronger than his own cultivation due to the trifecta of power within him: the Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique, the Heavenly Sword Dao Bone, and a childhood spent bathing in precious herbs and the blood of ancient beasts.
He stared at Xueli for a moment longer, seeing her enter a deep state of meditation, and decided to go on ahead.
Without hesitation, he began to sprint.
He easily climbed to 300, then 400, then 700, his speed didn't slacken until he reached the 901st step.
At that level, he finally stopped, his brow furrowing as for the first time, he felt a genuine pressure, his knees trembled slightly, and his breath hitched.
But at the same time, something deep within his blood began to roar.
His unawakened Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique stirred.
"What...is happening?" He frowned, feeling his body trembling.
This physique had never truly been his; it was a treasure his mother had taken from a child of a branch family and surgically implanted into him.
Because it wasn't his by birth, awakening its true power had been an incredibly tedious and frustrating process.
For over a decade, it had remained dormant.
But now, under the weight of a Supreme Emperor's will, it was finally showing signs of life.
'Could the pressure from this place be the key?' Haoran thought, a dark smile playing on his lips. 'After all, this physique originally belonged to a "protagonist," and this inheritance was also destined for one. Like calls to like, as they say.'
But he just shook his head, clearing the fog of confusion from his mind as he continued his ascent, but with every inch he gained, the atmospheric weight multiplied exponentially.
Right now, every step felt like a literal mountain was being stacked upon his shoulders, the gravity threatening to fuse his boots to the ancient stone.
But he endured. His back remained as straight as a spear, his posture as arrogant and majestic as it had been on the day of his birth.
For Haoran, he would never allow himself to kneel—not to an emperor, not to a god, and certainly not to a staircase.
His Dao of Supremacy was not a mere philosophy; it was a fundamental law of his existence that would never allow such a humiliating sight.
Finally, as he arrived at the 999th step, the threshold of the heavens, Haoran felt his Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique stirring wildly within his veins.
It was no longer a dull hum; it was a frantic, violent thrashing, as if a primordial beast was on the verge of tearing its way out of his body.
The pressure of the Supreme inheritance had acted as the ultimate catalyst, grinding away the layers of rejection between his soul and the stolen bloodline.
He sat down cross-legged at the very peak, the silver mist of the altar swirling around him like a cyclone.
He closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his concentration on circulating his Qi to stir his physique even further, pushing the dragon blood to its absolute limit.
This was the best chance he had ever been granted to awaken this dormant power, and he would never let it go to waste!
Ignoring the pain, he forcefully stirred his physique, trying to awaken it from its slumber!
His ears, nose, and eyes began to bleed, veins bulging in his forehead as he endured the soul breaking pain that no man should be capable of enduring.
'Come on! Endure! Endure it! To reach the pinnacle, to climb beyond that apex...this level of pain is nothin!'
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of agonizing compression and refinement, a roar of a dragon resounded—not just through the hall, but throughout the entire Prime Origin Realm.
The sound was so profound it bypassed the physical and struck the metaphysical, waking even the ancient, slumbering Supremes in the furthest corners of the universe.
They felt it.
The rhythmic, thundering sound of a heartbeat that resonated with the cosmos.
This is the feeling of someone awakening of a Divine Physique!
Back in the Shen Clan, Chu Xueyu suddenly stood up from her throne, her golden eyes widened in a rare display of genuine shock, followed immediately by an overflowing, motherly joy.
Then, from the subterranean depths of the Shen Clan's ancestral grounds, several Supremes who had remained in deep slumber for centuries began to stir.
Their ancient bloodlines boiled in anticipation, vibrating in sympathy with the frequency of the dragon's roar.
They could feel it in their very marrow: their most promising descendant, the heir they had gambled the clan's future on, had finally mastered the stolen gift.
Chu Xueyu let out an almost crazed, triumphant laughter that shook the foundations of the jade palace.
"Hahaha! Oh heavens above, have you seen that!?" she cried, her voice carrying the weight of a decree. "No matter how many anomalies or 'sons of destiny' you throw at us, the fact will never change! This era belongs to the Shen Clan! Haoran has finally become the True Dragon!"
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C39: Minor Completion
Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Minor Completion
"Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique, Minor Completion!"
Shen Haoran stood up in a surge of pure, unadulterated excitement, his very presence causing the air around the altar to ripple and distort.
His blood and Qi were no longer merely flowing, but were now boiling with a primordial, extreme power that defied the conventional laws of cultivation.
He can feel it, a boundless, heavy strength that went beyond human reason, as if the essence of an ancient star was now anchored within his chest.
Although it was only at the level of Minor Completion, the divine physique had already fundamentally rewritten his biological and spiritual makeup.
He could feel the first of its legendary traits: Rapid Regeneration, with cells now vibrating with a life-force so potent that even deep wounds would knit together in heartbeats, and his stamina replenished itself as quickly as he could expend it.
Accompanying this was Extreme Durability, which made his flesh take on a subtle, metallic sheen, and his bones were now denser than dragon-tempered steel.
He also now possessed an extreme resistance to both physical trauma and elemental onslaughts; to an ordinary cultivator, he was no different to an immovable fortress.
Then there was the Dragon Aura, which is a low, subsonic hum radiated from his skin, a frequency that marked him as a sovereign among beasts.
This aura would not only increase the favorability of any dragonkin he encountered but, in the face of lesser draconic bloodlines, would force them into absolute, shivering submission.
Lastly, and perhaps most crucially, was the acquisition of a Dragon Core.
His Golden Core, the very heart of his power, had been refined and hardened into a true Dragon Core, this gave his Qi a draconic aspect—turning it into a domineering, golden-purple energy that felt like liquid lightning.
Furthermore, it provided a perpetual circulation; his Qi never rested, constantly refining itself even while he stood still, and will never ran out.
Haoran marveled at the sensation.
This was only Minor Completion, and it was already so powerful! He found it difficult to even imagine the sheer, world-ending power this physique would grant him once it reached its full potential.
In the vast history of the Cultivation world, the awakening of a physique followed a strict, brutal progression: first was Minor Completion, which Haoran just achieved, followed by Major Completion, then the world-shaking Grand Completion, and finally, the legendary Perfect Integration.
In the case of Divine Physiques, legends whispered that once a user reached Perfect Integration, the barriers of Cultivation ranks became meaningless; even a mortal could theoretically possess the raw, conceptual power to slaughter a Supreme Emperor once their divine physique had reached Perfect Integration.
It was for this reason that in the ancient eras, possessors of this physique were feared and whispered about as the "Emperor Slayers."
The Supremes of old, gripped by a rare and cold fear, had organized Great Hunts to erase these bloodlines from history.
Even in the modern era, that fear persisted, as those born with Divine Physiques—especially those without the protection of a Hegemon Clan—were hunted like rare prey.
If found as infants, their physiques would be cruelly harvested, stripped from their bodies to be integrated into the descendants of the existing Supremes.
Haoran was the living proof of this cold reality; his own physique was a stolen trophy, now fully claimed by his will.
Just then, Shen Haoran clenched his fist, feeling the bones pop with the force of a thunderclap.
"I've also broken through to the 3rd Stage of the Golden Core Realm," he murmured, his voice carrying a new, draconic resonance.
The excess energy from the awakening had acted as a flood, washing away his previous bottlenecks with ease.
He then turned his gaze downward, looking past the hundreds of steps he had conquered.
There, far below, he saw Xueli, who had successfully shattered her own limits, her aura now radiating the strength of a 3rd Stage Foundation Establishment expert.
However, the climb was taking its toll on her, as she was currently struggling at the 601st step, her body trembling under the weight, her face a mask of gritted teeth and sheer, stubborn defiance.
He observed her for a long moment, watching the way her spirit flickered but refused to go out and a trace of a smile touched his lips.
He decided to wait, just as he promised.
He sat back down on the cold stone of the 999th step, perched at the edge of the heavens, quietly watching her ascent, still with a gentle smile on his face.
Yes, for Haoran, as long as she doesn't give up, he will always wait for her, no matter how long it takes.
*
*
*
At this moment, in the sterile, echoing silence of the white stone transition chamber, Xia Mengyao stood like a figure of serene perfection.
His auburn hair was undisturbed, and his robes remained crisp, showing no signs of the chaotic battle he had just endured within the Trial of Combat.
His gaze swept the empty room, finding no trace of Shen Haoran or the girl in blue.
'Hmm, as expected, they are already done with the trial,' Mengyao thought, his eyes narrowing. 'To clear these trials so swiftly... the gap between the outskirts and the Imperial Capital is truly a chasm.'
However, his mind wondered to that girl in blue who accompanied like a wet puppy to its owner.
She was a 1st Stage Foundation Establishment nobody, how did she became so close to that distinguished heir of the Shen Clan?
Was she also someone from a Hegemon Clan, but was untalented? Or did he pick her up in this Desolate Region?
If he did, then that is one lucky girl. She probably saved the universe in her previous life to have such good karma.
Just then, the silence was broken by a sudden swirling of space as a figure stumbled into the room.
It was Jin Pei, his golden armor was dented, and a trickle of blood ran down his chin, but his eyes were wide with a manic, defiant energy.
"Hah! You think you can beat me just by creating a copy of me!? Don't make me laugh!" Jin Pei snorted in disdain, spitting a glob of blood onto the white floor.
His bravado faltered, however, when he looked up and saw Xia Mengyao standing there, looking as though he had just stepped out of a tea ceremony.
He clicked his tongue, sounding rather bitter. "So you finished the trial before me, and you don't even look injured. As expected of the 'number one genius' in the Central Region."
When he spoke of the Central Region, the Imperial Capital was naturally excluded, after all, to the inhabitants of the vassal kingdoms and border sects, the Capital was not just a city; it was a higher plane of existence, a place where the air was filled with the breath of gods and the children of Hegemon Clans were born with the strength to crush kingdoms.
Moments later, a spatial ripple heralded the arrival of Ao Long, the Crown Prince of Blue Wind who was also in no better shape than Jin Pei; his blue robes were shredded at the shoulders, and his breathing was heavy.
The moment he saw the two of them, his triumphant expression, an expression of a man who had survived a life-or-death struggle, immediately shifted into a mask of pure annoyance.
"What's with that expression? Wanna die?" Jin Pei asked, his temper flaring as his body was instantly engulfed in a golden spirit-fire that licked the ceiling.
"I can look at others how I want to look. What? You wanna stop me?" Ao Long stared at him with cold disdain, a violent gust of wind swirling around him, turning the small room into a pressure cooker of competing auras.
"Enough." Xia Mengyao's voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a mountain as he stared at the two princes with a look of profound boredom. "If you want to act like children, then go play in your house and not here. We are in the tomb of a Supreme; show some respect, or the tomb will show you none."
The two princes stared at him, their faces twisting, but the sheer difference in their states—one pristine, two battered—was enough to make them click their tongues and allow their auras to subside.
"Whatever. I'm going ahead. I'm not letting some backwater treasure slip through my fingers," Jin Pei muttered, marching toward the far door.
"Hmph." Ao Long cast a final, lingering glare at Mengyao before following close behind Jin Pei, neither wanting to give the other a head start.
Mengyao waited in the silence for a few more minutes, his patience seemingly infinite.
Finally, after another few minutes, another figure emerged with a ripple of space, it was Luo Mingye.
She looked slightly winded but otherwise unharmed, it seems like she was able to easily handle her phantom, but it just took time.
A moment later, Yun Li stepped out behind her, his face pale and his clothes dusty, his jaw set in a tight line.
Mingye looked around and immediately noticed Mengyao, as she walked towards him, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern."Brother Mengyao, you shouldn't have waited for me. Now look, those two idiots have probably already gone in ahead of you."
Mengyao shook his head slowly. "With that young master here, whatever we managed to find will just be consolation prizes. The true legacy—the heart of the Emperor—will surely fall into his hands."
"I don't know about that," Yun Li interjected, his voice carrying a smug, arrogant edge as he smoothed his robes, trying to regain his composure. "The inheritance is given to the most skilled and talented. Every trial is designed to be fair. Whoever receives the legacy will be up to fate—and I believe fate favors those who work the hardest."
"That's right," Mingye agreed, nodding her head. "The inheritance will surely fall to the most talented. That's why Brother Mengyao said that Young Master Shen will be the one to take it."
At those words, Yun Li froze.
He stared at her in genuine shock, as if he couldn't believe his ears. The woman he had marked as his future wife, the woman who was supposed to be impressed by his rapid growth and "unique" aura, actually held a higher opinion of a man she barely knew than of him!
'Why isn't she encouraging me?' Yun Li screamed internally. 'Shouldn't she be saying that I still have a chance? That with my talent and my determination, I won't lose to some pampered heir? Why is this different from every novel I've ever read?!'
Xia Mengyao stared at Yun Li silently for a heartbeat, seeing the turbulent emotions flickering across the "trash" heir's face as he gave a tiny, imperceptible shake of his head before turning toward the exit.
"Let's go," Mengyao said. "Even though it is merely consolation prizes, this is still the inheritance of a Supreme Emperor. Finding a Rank 9 Saint-Grade Artifact or even a higher-tier items is still possible. It would be a waste to leave empty-handed."
"Hm!" Mingye nodded, her bright smile returning as she skipped to catch up with Mengyao.
Meanwhile, Yun Li stood alone for a moment in the center of the white room.
His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and a dark, violet Qi from the Falling Immortal Sutra flickered dangerously around his fingertips.
He looked at the backs of the two people and swore that he would show them all what a true "Son of Heaven" was capable of.
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C40: Suppression
Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Suppression
The heavy, metallic scent of ancient silver, and the lingering power of an ancient expert hung in the air as Mengyao, Mingye and Yun Li arrived at the deepest section of the inheritance space.
And as the three of them stepped into the hall, they were immediately greeted by the sight of the two princes—Jin Pei and Ao Long—standing frozen at the base of the colossal staircase.
Their arrogance had been replaced by a stiff, wary tension, like soldiers standing at the edge of a precipice, or a subject standing before their emperor.
"Is this all of you?"
The voice descended from above, reverberating as if it was a low growl of a dragon that made the marrow in their bones shiver.
Yun Li looked up, his neck craning, as high above, seated upon the 999th step as if it were a throne of the gods, was Shen Haoran.
He looked down on them with a gaze of absolute, frigid detachment, while a hundred steps below him, the girl in blue sat in deep meditation, her body wreathed in the shimmering light of her own breakthrough.
6th Stage Foundation Establishment? How is this possible?! She was at first stage earlier! Was she purposely hiding her cultivation? Thought Yun Li.
"That's right, Young Master Shen," Mengyao replied, stepping forward and cupping his hands in a respectful salute. "The others were... preoccupied. Some are likely still fighting over the herb garden, while the rest are struggling within the first two trials. Only we five have made it this far."
"Hmm. And you are?" Haoran raised an eyebrow.
His golden eyes, now sharpened by the awakening of his Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique, swept over Mengyao.
'This man... no, that is a woman,' Haoran thought instantly, his heightened senses pierced through the auburn hair, the bound chest, and the artificial Adam's apple.
'Why is she disguised as a man?' though he was curious, he kept the observation to himself; in the Central Region, everyone carried a mask, and her secrets were currently of no consequence to him.
He had even heard that some perverted ancestors would disguise themselves as a woman just so they can openly peek and molest women without much consequence.
"Greetings, young master. I am Xia Mengyao, Heaven's Chosen of the Flower Mountain Sect," she replied, her voice steady. "I once had the honor of seeing the Young Master during your sixteenth birthday celebration at the Imperial Capital."
Flower Mountain Sect? Haoran's memory shifted through the vast archives of his mind.
He immediately recalled the name—a powerful Second-Rate entity that sat on a mountain of resources, merely waiting for a Heavenly Saint to emerge so they could ascend to the First-Rate ranks.
If he remembered correctly, they are incredibly popular because of their wine, where it is said that beautiful wood spirits uses their jade feet to crush the grapes to make that particular wine.
He doesn't know if it's true or just propaganda, but it was certainly very popular.
He offered a curt nod of acknowledgment before his gaze turned cold and inclusive of the entire group. "The final trial is to climb this staircase. But understand this: I will crush anyone who attempts to ascend. There are many side chambers in this place filled with treasures I have neither opened nor explored. You are free to take whatever you find within those rooms, but this inheritance... this heart of the Emperor... is mine."
Hearing that, Jin Pei and Ao Long exchanged a glance and gave a stiff nod.
They have already thought of this outcome, or rather, this is even better than what they have thought.
Truthfully, they actually hope that Haoran would be generous enough to give them even a single piece of Saint Grade Artifact or something, but they didn't expect that Haoran would only take the emperor inheritance and give everything to them!
As for thinking of taking that inheritance for themselves... are you joking? With Shen Haoran's strength and background, there are far quicker and more painless method to kill themselves.
Mengyao and Mingye similarly dipped their heads.
This outcome was better than they expected. At least they would have something to bring back to their sect and clan.
They were about to start moving when the silence was shattered by a voice trembling with indignant rage.
"That's unfair! This inheritance should fall to those with true ability and luck! Not to those who simply rely on their backgrounds to bully others!"
Yun Li stepped forward, his face flushed, his finger pointed accusingly at the figure on the golden heights.
Jin Pei and Ao Long turned to look at him as if he were a pig that had suddenly sprouted wings and begun to recite poetry.
Buddy, are you serious? they thought in unison. Who speaks about fairness in a world where the strong eat the weak? If you have the "ability," then climb! Don't stand there acting like a righteous martyr.
Ao Long himself felt a surge of genuine bewilderment.
He couldn't believe Luo Mingye had even spared a glance for this fool, a guy who would talk about "background" in front of the literal number-one talent of the Empire was the height of delusional idiocy.
It was like a village boy challenging a storm to a wrestling match because the wind wasn't being "fair."
"Unfair? Abilities? Luck?" Haoran snorted, the sound echoing like a crack of thunder.
He didn't rise from where he was sitting, but his Dragon Core pulsed into life, and suddenly, a golden-purple aura burst from his body with such density that the air itself seemed to shatter.
Boom!
The spiritual pressure was so immense that his Qi began to liquify in mid-air, manifesting as a heavy, shimmering rain that fell throughout the hall.
Each droplet carried the weight of a boulder; to be touched by this "rain" was to feel as though one were being drowned in a sea of molten lead.
"If you have them, then come," Haoran declared, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "If you can take even a single step upon these stairs while I am here, then I shall admit defeat and hand you the legacy."
Jin Pei, Ao Long, and Mengyao groaned, their legs shaking.
Even though as Golden Core experts, they were still able to hold their ground, but even so, they still felt like they were undergoing a form of water torture, with every breath already a struggle against the drowning weight of Haoran's Qi.
As for Luo Mingye, a 9th Stage Core Formation cultivator, and Yun Li, who was merely at the Foundation Establishment stage, were both utterly devastated.
They felt as though a primordial dragon had gripped them and plunged them into the depths of a dark abyss.
"You cannot even handle the weight of my presence, yet you dare speak to me of ability?" Haoran's gaze was emotionless, looking at Yun Li as one might look at a speck of dust. "Crawl your way out of this hall. I have no patience to teach an infant how to breathe."
Under the sheer, tyrannical force of the aura, Yun Li collapsed, his knees hit the stone with a sickening crack.
Then, his eyes began to roll back into his head, showing only the whites, and blood began to leak from his nose, ears, and the corners of his eyes.
He clutched his throat, his mouth agape as he tried to gasp for air that had been squeezed out of the room.
Jin Pei, Ao Long, and Mengyao roared, releasing their own Qi in a desperate, joint effort to shield themselves, with Mengyao immediately standing before Mingye to try and shield her from the sheer suffocating pressure.
But, despite their efforts, their legs started buckled, their spines curving under the weight, and they were now seconds away from a total collapse.
Haoran noticed this, and concluded that if he increased the intensity of his aura for just a tiny bit, they will surely start bleeding and pass out.
"Hmph." Haoran snorted, and as quickly as it had appeared, the crushing pressure vanished.
Immediately, the group fell to all fours, gasping for air like landed fish, their chests heaving in the sudden vacuum.
Haoran stared at them before he began to turn his head away, his voice cold. "I don't want to repeat mysel—"
He stopped, his brow furrowed as his newly awakened senses picked up a strange, discordant frequency.
There, within the broken, bleeding body of Yun Li, a hidden power was beginning to circulate.
It wasn't the standard Qi of this world; it was a dark, resilient energy—the Falling Immortal Sutra—reacting to the near-death experience.
It was rapidly knitting Yun Li's internal injuries together and, more importantly, it was using the remnant pressure of Haoran's Draconic Qi to hammer Yun Li's foundation, forcing a sudden, violent breakthrough.
What... is that? Haoran wondered, his eyes narrowing. That energy... it doesn't belong to this world's Laws.
This boy...could he be an anomaly as well?
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C41: Special Physique
Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Special Physique
Haoran observed Yun Li with a clinical, detached curiosity, his chin resting on his palm as he sat atop the 999th step.
He watched the way the dark, violet energy acted like a weaver's needle, stitching together the ruptured meridians and shattered pride of the youth below.
Suddenly—BOOM!
A visible shockwave of spiritual energy erupted from Yun Li's frame, kicking up a cloud of silver dust from the ancient stone floor.
The atmospheric pressure suddenly shifted violently as the boy's aura surged, shattering the bottleneck of his cultivation!
He had successfully crossed the threshold, leaping from the peak of Foundation Establishment into the 1st Stage of the Core Formation Realm!
Not only that, but the physical devastation Haoran had inflicted just moments ago was gone.
The blood on Yun Li's face dried and flaked away, revealing skin that was unmarred and eyes that burned with a renewed, toxic arrogance.
"Urgh," Yun Li stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he felt the potent new strength coursing through his veins. "Ha, I broke through!"
He looked toward Ao Long, Jin Pei, Xia Mengyao, and Luo Mingye, savoring the looks of genuine shock and bewilderment on their faces.
To them, such a rapid recovery and breakthrough under crushing pressure must be a miracle of the highest order.
Yes, that must be. After all, he is a genius chosen by the heavens!
He then turned his gaze upward, looking directly at Haoran, and his brow couldn't help but furrowed when he noticed that the golden-haired heir hadn't moved a muscle.
Yes, despite the commotion, Haoran remained as calm and indifferent as a stagnant pool, looking down as if he hadn't just witnessed something supposedly impossible.
And yes, in Haoran's eyes, this was truly not shocking.
He had lived his whole life in the Imperial Capital , a place where "miracles" were the daily bread of the elite, where geniuses with Supreme Bloodline and Special Physiques gathered to compete for dominance.
And while this boy was likely an anomaly, the world was vast; people who could heal instantly or breakthrough in the heat of battle were as numerous as the clouds in the sky.
To a scion of a Hegemon Clan, a desperate breakthrough by a border-land cultivator was merely a common occurrence.
Even Xueli had repeatedly broke through under pressure. Although, she didn't heal.
'...This anomaly doesn't look that special,' Haoran thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.
However, he was intrigued by that strange power. Is it a System? A sentient magical artifact hidden in his soul? He couldn't be sure yet, but the energy lacked the harmony of this world's Laws.
It must've came from another world, perhaps it was even from the Immortal World and fell into this world, which he happened to pick up.
It was a rather interesting, foreign thing.
But even so, Haoran's interest was fleeting.
After all, while the energy was "special," it wasn't that special.
Many Special Physiques, including his own newly awakened Infinity Dragon God Divine Physique, possessed similar or even superior regenerative and adaptive capabilities.
Even if it did came from the Immortal World, it is likely fragmented, as he wouldn't be able to use it if it was complete.
His own Clan had produced many Immortals since time immemorial, so they have a few treasures from the Immortal World as well
So what this Yun Li has isn't his priority, for now, his primary objective remained unchanged, he wanted Xueli to finish her climb and claim the inheritance so they could leave this backwater region behind.
"I will not repeat myself," Haoran said, his voice cold and carrying a draconic resonance that made the room tremble. "You are free to take whatever treasures are hidden in the side chambers of this palace, but the inheritance at the top of these stairs belongs to me. Leave now, or stay and be buried."
Jin Pei and Ao Long didn't need to be told twice as they immediately cupped their fists in a frantic salute and turned on their heels.
They had no desire to be in the room when the "trash heir" inevitably offended Shen Haoran again.
They had been lucky to survive the first outburst; they weren't about to bet their lives on Haoran's mercy a second time.
"Let it go, Yun Li," Luo Mingye said softly, her voice carrying a hint of pity as she stepped forward and patted his shoulder, but her touch was light and devoid of the intimacy he craved. "An Emperor's inheritance is precious, but it means nothing if you lose your life before you can use it. There are other treasures here."
She didn't wait for his reply as she reached out and grabbed Xia Mengyao's hand, leading the auburn-haired genius away. "Let's go, Brother Mengyao. We should find the armory before the others do."
Yun Li stared at their retreating backs, his heart twisting with a violent, agonizing jealousy.
He looked at the way Mingye held Mengyao's hand, a sight that burned more than Haoran's Qi ever could.
He turned his gaze back to the golden haired youth at the top of the stairs, remembering the feeling of the abyss he had just crawled out of.
Knowing he couldn't win—not yet—he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, forced himself to look away, and stalked toward the side corridors to search for his own "consolation" spoils.
Haoran remained silent as the hall emptied, the only sound being the rhythmic, heavy breathing of Xueli as she began her final push toward the 900th step.
His eyes landed on her, watchful and waiting.
*
*
*
"Brother Mengyao, do you think there is a special physique that can convert pain into ecstasy?" asked Mingye as she walked side by side with Mengyao through the winding, silver-lit corridors of the side chambers.
Mengyao blinked, his pace faltering for a fraction of a second before he shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. At least, not in any of the ancient records of the Central Region. Why do you ask such a strange question?"
"I think... I think I might have awakened some special physique." Mingye paused her steps, turning toward Mengyao with a look of startlingly deep seriousness. "Earlier, when Young Master Shen suppressed us like that... that heavy, suffocating pressure... I actually enjoyed that feeling when it felt like I was being choked."
Mengyao's eyes widened, and he stared at her for a long, quiet moment. "I... I don't think that's a special physique, Mingye. That is probably just a special kink."
Mingye frowned, her head tilting in genuine confusion. "What's a kink? Is it a rare constitution? Or perhaps a bloodline mutation?"
Mengyao blushed, his face turning a shade of pink that contrasted sharply with his auburn hair as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. "Ah, it's nothing. My junior brother was the one who came up with that word... I don't really know what it means either. I'll have to ask him about the technical details later."
"Junior brother... you mean that abandoned prince of the Chasing Cloud Kingdom?" asked Mingye, her curiosity piqued.
Mengyao nodded, his expression softening but becoming firm. "Don't call him that, though. It's very disrespectful to his journey. He is his own person now, and he has shed the shadow of that kingdom who abandoned him."
"Right, right, sorry," Mingye said, waving a hand dismissively. "Still, I'm so envious that you can have such a skilled and talented junior that follows your every command just because you saved him when he was abandoned. It must be so convenient."
She let out a long, dramatic sigh.
In truth, most of her interest in Yun Li had stemmed from the fact that his situation—the "trash" label and the sudden rise—was rather similar to that of Mengyao's junior brother.
She had harbored a secret desire to have a talented younger brother-figure who would follow her lead as well.
But her luck was proving to be rather poor; Yun Li, whom she had held such high hopes for, was turning out to be more of a delusional fraud than a loyal genius.
"Don't say that," Mengyao countered gently. "Junior Brother is just very enthusiastic. He's not my follower or my servant. We simply walk the same path."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. We all know he'd jump off a cliff if you asked him to," Mingye teased.
Just then...
BOOM!
A massive explosion rocked the corridor, sending a cloud of dust and ancient Qi rippling through the air.
Mengyao and Mingye exchanged a sharp look before simultaneously sprinting toward the source of the blast.
It didn't take long before they arrived at the entrance of a vast, circular room.
It was a treasure trove beyond their wildest dreams. Countless gold coins, high-grade spirit stones, and various scattered artifacts and herbs lay in heaps.
Books and scrolls were also strewn across the floor like autumn leaves.
However, at the center of the hall stood a lone, pristine altar, and hovering above it was a single book, wreathed in a glowing, heavenly golden light.
On the cover, the characters were embossed in a silver that seemed to dance: Bright Star Circulation Sutra.
"A Heavenly Grade Cultivation Technique!?"
Mingye and Mengyao exclaimed in unison.
Even in the depths of the Central Region, a cultivation technique of that level could cause even second rate sects and kingdoms to slaughter one another for the chance to study it.
If it were a Grand Tier Heavenly Grade, an all-out war between the first rate powers would surely erupt.
"This is mine!"
"Fuck off, it's the Sun Bird's property now!"
Their shock was interrupted by the sight of Ao Long and Jin Pei locked in a brutal exchange below the altar.
They were releasing explosive battle techniques, their Qi clashing with enough force to melt the gold coins beneath their feet.
However, as if sensing the new presence, Jin Pei and Ao Long both skidded back, stopping their duel to stare warily at the newcomers.
Mengyao's brow furrowed. He could feel the shift in the room's dynamic and knew that if he and Mingye chose to intervene now, these two bitter rivals would almost certainly put aside their differences to team up and eliminate the bigger threat.
Mengyao reached out and grabbed Mingye's hand, his grip firm.
"Let's go," he whispered. "This isn't the only room, and we cannot afford to be pincered by those two while their blood is up."
Mingye nodded and silently followed him.
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C42: A Girl's Resolve
Chapter 42: Chapter 42: A Girl's Resolve
(Ning Xueli's POV)
The moment I stepped into 901st step, it felt like the sky itself had collapsed and decided to rest specifically on my shoulders.
The moment my boot made contact with the cold, unforgiving stone, a sickening crack echoed through my ears—the sound of my own joints screaming in protest.
My vision blurred into a hazy smear of silver and gray, and for a heartbeat, I couldn't feel my feet.
It felt like I was no longer a person, but was a piece of iron being hammered on an anvil of pure, imperial will.
'Give up,' a voice whispered in the back of my mind, sounding cold and seductive. 'Just collapse. If you fall now, the pain stops. You've done more than enough, after all you're just a girl from a small clan. You were never meant for this.'
My knees buckled, hitting the edge of the step with a dull thud that sent a jolt of agony straight to my spine.
My lungs felt like they were filled with molten lead; every breath was a jagged struggle against a gravity that wanted to flatten me into a stain on the staircase.
I looked down at my hands, trembling violently against the rock, and I felt a tear of pure, raw exhaustion track through the soot on my cheek.
I couldn't do it.
The gap between me and the top was an infinite chasm.
I am already at my limit.
Maybe...
Maybe I should just give up?
After all, it's not like a young master from a prestigious clan in the central region would miss a girl like me, right?
In his mind, I'm probably just a girl he took pity on after using my body.
But then...
Through the thunderous ringing in my ears, I remembered his voice. Not the cold, distant voice he used with the world, but the one he had looked me in the eyes with—the one that had promised a different kind of reality.
"I shall take note of that resolve. That much, I can promise to believe in."
I tilted my head back, the movement costing me a grunt of pain, and saw him, Haoran.
He wasn't looking away from me, he wasn't disgusted at my pathetic state, he was just sitting on that 999th step, bathed in a golden-purple light that made him look like a god from the ancient scrolls, and he was waiting...waiting for me.
He had told me he would leave me behind if I failed, but he also said he would wait as long as I didn't give up.
To anyone else, that was a threat, but to me, it was the only lifeline I had ever been given.
If I stop now, I lose him, I realized, a sudden, piercing clarity cutting through the fog of pain.
If I collapse here, I go back to being a 'flower' in a garden, waiting to wither. I'll be forgotten by time, just another loser left in the dust of the Desolate Region.
The thought of him standing up and walking away, leaving me alone in this silence, hurt more than my cracking ribs ever could.
"I... will not... let you... go," I wheezed, the words tasting like copper and grit.
I felt a heat begin to stir in the center of my chest—not the pressure of the stairs, but a defiance that belonged to me.
My Qi, which had been frantic and disorganized, began to harmonize under the sheer force of my desperation.
It wasn't about being a supreme anymore, it wasn't about this inheritance, now it was about my greed.
I was greedy for his gaze, I was greedy for his attention, I was greedy for everything that he is.
My fingers dug into the stone, drawing blood, but I used that pain to anchor myself.
Slowly, agonizingly, I forced my left leg to straighten. The pressure tried to shove me back down, to break my spirit like dry kindling, but I met it with a snarl.
My flesh felt like it was being ground into paste, and my bones groaned as if they were about to shatter into splinters, but my will had finally found its edge.
I took another step.
902nd step.
The weight didn't get lighter, but my heart felt heavier—weighted with a determination that made the Emperor's pressure seem like a mere breeze.
At this moment, I felt like Iwasn't just climbing a staircase; I was crawling out of my own insignificance.
Watch me, Haoran, I thought, my eyes locking onto his silhouette through the silver mist. I won't be a flower that can only wait to wither. I'll be a woman, worthy of standing beside you.
903.
904.
905.
The number of steps became a blur, like a rhythmic counting of my own agony.
Every step I took was a battle won against a world that wanted me to remain small, and even as my vision had narrowed to the singular point of the next stone edge, I gritted my teeth and persisted.
The light emitting from the Imperial Stairs which, I thought beautiful at first, was now like a deep, suffocating ocean I was trying to swim through while chained to a boulder.
Seriously, I never even knew that I could be this stubborn.
Back when I was trying in Ogre Academy, unless Grandmaster himself insisted it, I wouldn't push myself that hard during training.
In some occasions, I would even sneak out of the academy to head to the city and have fun.
I'm incredibly lazy, and I hate pain the most.
After all, my clan is the richest in the entire region, and my Grandpa Sword was the strongest known expert in the entire region.
Why should I suffer when my backing was so powerful? Isn't that nonsense? What use was her backing for if she had to endure pain and grueling training?
But... As I accompanied Haoran, I felt like I have changed, even though it wasn't that long ago.
I endured and persisted when he told me to fight a beast beyond my level. I endured that mind breaking Trial of Will. I endured that incredibly dangerous Trial of Combat, and now I was forcing myself to endure this final trial.
In the past, just hearing one of those things would immediately make me give up.
But now... I was actually persisting, all for the sake of that man's recognition.
I shook my head, as by the 950th step, my vision began to fail, with dark spots danced at the corners of my eyes, and my heartbeat now a frantic, irregular drum in my ears.
I could feel the blood trickling from my nose, warm and metallic against my lip, and even my lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air that the Emperor's pressure refused to let me have.
Just ten more... I lied to myself at 960.
Just ten more... I lied again at 970.
And by the 990th step, I was no longer walking, I was crawling, my fingernails were torn, leaving dark, bloody streaks on the pristine white jade of the stairs.
The pressure here was absolute—it felt as though the Bright Silver Emperor himself was standing on my back, demanding I acknowledge my own worthlessness.
But then, I saw his boots.
Just a few more steps. Haoran's golden-purple aura was so close now that it acted as a beacon in the blinding silver haze.
I could feel his Qi and the faint, manly scent that clung to him. That scent was more intoxicating than any pill, more revitalizing than any spirit spring.
Ah... He's so close...
I'm almost... there...
With a final, guttural scream that tore through my throat, I thrust my body forward onto the 999th step.
The moment my weight shifted onto the final platform, the crushing gravity vanished instantly, replaced by a weightlessness so sudden I felt like I was floating.
The adrenaline that had kept my broken body moving evaporated, my muscles turned to water, and my consciousness began to slip into a dark, welcoming void.
I started to pitch forward, my face destined for the hard stone, but the impact never came as trong, firm arms caught me before I could fall.
I felt the cool silk of his robes against my bruised cheek and his steady, thundering heartbeat beneath my ear.
I was so small in his embrace, trembling like a leaf after a storm, but for the first time in my life, I felt safe, safer than even when I was in my clan.
Haoran didn't push me away. He held me as I drifted on the edge of passing out, I felt his breath against my ear and heard his voice—no longer cold, but carrying a weight of genuine, sovereign approval.
"Good job," he whispered, the words vibrating through my very soul. "Your will and resolve, I have acknowledged it. Xueli, from now, I want you by my side."
A single tear escaped my closed eyes, disappearing into the fabric of his robes.
I had done it.
I had reached the top.
I had earned my place by his side.
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VILLAINS AREN'T STEPPING STONES!C43: Die
Chapter 43: Chapter 43: Die
Xueli's consciousness returned in waves, like a tide rolling back onto a shore of soft silk as rhe agonizing compression of the 999th step had vanished, replaced by a warmth that seeped into her very soul.
She groaned softly, expecting her muscles to tear, but the pain was gone—replaced by a profound, hollow exhaustion that felt almost peaceful.
"You're awake?" A gentle voice sounded.
She blinked and found herself looking up at a sharp, regal jawline, and only then did she realise that she was lying on Haoran's lap as he sat cross-legged on the cold obsidian of the summit, his fingers moving through her hair with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic gentleness.
She offered him a weak, trembling grin. "I didn't disappoint you... did I?"
Haoran's gaze shifted down to her, and for the first time, his smile was genuinely gentle, not the gentle but indifferent smile he always wore to everyone. "No. You exceeded my expectations, Xueli."
He leaned down, so close that their foreheads are an inch away from touching each other, "And you know what? I think I'm finding myself becoming more and more fascinated with you by the second."
Xueli let out a breathy, tired chuckle. "Hehe, is that so? Then keep on looking at me, Haoran. I promise you... eventually, you'll find yourself unable to look away from me even if the world is ending."
"Is that so? Then I'm waiting to see it," Haoran chuckled, though his eyes remained sharp as he patted her shoulder gently. "Now, get up. What we came for, what you bled for, is just behind us. It is time for you to receive your reward."
Xueli stood up with reluctant limbs as Haoran rose in one fluid motion.
Haa~, she sighed. I really wanted to enjoy that moment a bit more.
It was really so interesting to see someone who is so high and mighty, with pride bordering extreme arrogance, acting so kind and gentle.
They turned, and there they saw, at the very edge of the platform, where the silver mist gathered like a shroud, sat a massive coffin floating in the air.
It was carved from an unknown material, probably only found in the Eastern Region during his era, as it glowed with swirling motes of silver light that looked like trapped galaxies.
"The Tomb of an Emperor," Xueli muttered. The exhaustion in her eyes was instantly replaced by a burning, primal desire.
And who can blame her? Not to mention in this Desolate Region, even in the entire Tian Yuan Empire, this is a power that can turn you into a Hegemon of an era.
This was the pinnacle of power of the entire Prime Origin Realm.
And at this moment, she will be getting this legacy.
"Let's go." Haoran led the way, his footsteps echoing eerily through the platform.
"Hmm." Xueli nodded and followed behind him.
They stopped exactly a meter away from the radiant sarcophagus, and from this distance, they can effectively feel just how dangerous whoever was inside this coffin was.
Even though this tomb was probably several tens of thousands of years old, the aura it gives off was still suffocating.
For Xueli, it felt like staring straight into the abyss, and the only reason why she can remain calm is because Haoran was with her.
Just then, Haoran reached out and placed his hand upon the cold, vibrating metal as his Qi, now infused with the golden-purple essence of the Dragon Core, flared to life.
"Awaken..." He whispered.
The moment his energy touched the coffin, the entire inheritance realm let out a thunderous groan.
The pillars shook, and the silver lights above swirled into a violent tempest.
Xueli stumbled back, but she refused to look away, her eyes fixed on the lid as it began to dissolve into mist.
And from the vapor, a phantom manifested, forming the shape of a man in front of them.
When it solidified, the man's appearance was finally revealed. He possessed a face of ethereal beauty, with hair like spun moonlight and robes that seemed to be woven from the void itself.
He took a deep breath, as if savoring the air after tens of thousands years.
"I am the light of the stars; the earth is my body, and the seas are my blood."
"Unknown to heaven, nor known to earth."
"I am Lei Yin, and within the boundless universe, I alone am the honored one."
The spirit spoke with a voice that sounded like a thousand chiming bells, as if declaring the life of supremacy that he once had.
He then opened his silver eyes, his gaze sweeping over the two youths. "Are you two the ones who completed all my trials?"
Haoran and Xueli nodded in unison, but they didn't speak, simply observing the spirit silently.
The spirit of the Emperor studied them for a long moment, then slowly shook his head, a look of profound regret on his face. "Apologies. But you are not the ones I am waiting for, so I cannot give you my inheritance. But to praise you for your efforts and your undeniable talent, I shall grant you other treasures from my armory as compensation."
"What!?" Xueli's voice cracked, the shock hitting her harder than the pressure of the stairs. "Then what was the point of those trials!? Do you have any idea what I went through to stand here?! You're telling me I just get a consolation prize because I'm not the 'right' person!?"
Lei Yin's phantom frowned, his expression turning cold. "That is why I am offering you other treasures. I commend your tenacity, girl, but the core of my soul, my unique laws... you are simply not the fated one I saw in my prophecies."
"Fuck your mother!" Xueli shrieked, her temper, the legendary fire of the 'Little Witch', exploding in the face of the Emperor. "I hope you suffer eternal damnation in the underworld, you senile ghost! Scammer! Pig! Ugly!"
As she said those words, the atmosphere in the hall shifted instantly as the silver light turned into a jagged, suffocating pressure.
The air was sucked out of the room as if by a vacuum, and Xueli felt an invisible hand crush her throat, forcing her to struggle for breath.
"You—! How dare a mere ant disrespect this Emperor!?" Lei Yin's voice was no longer melodic; it was a roar of thunder. "Girl, do not test my patience. Kneel down and apologize, and I might still consider leaving you with your life and a pittance of gold."
Xueli gritted her teeth, her knees shaking as she tried to resist the soul-crushing pressure of a Supreme's remnant.
Suddenly, a hand patted her shoulder as Haoran stepped in front of her, and the moment he did, the Emperor's pressure shattered like glass hitting a stone floor.
She gasped for breath, before she stared at Haoran's back with eyes filled with gratitude and trust.
"You... who are you?" Lei Yin stared at Haoran, his silver eyes wide with shock as the boy casually shrugged off his pressure.
He actually didn't see it before since his focus was on the girl, it was only now when he stepped forward that he realized he couldn't see through the golden-haired youth; it was as if he were staring into the center of the universe and trying to comprehend all of creation.
Haoran stared at the spirit, his eyes held nothing but indifference.
"I doubt someone from this godforsaken backwater would know my name, but I am Shen Haoran, of the Shen Immortal Clan," Haoran said, his voice carrying a terrifying pride and authority, born from his upbringing as the heir of a Hegemon Clan, "And I will tell you this, remnant. The people at my side, with the sole exception of myself, do not need to bow to anyone else. You are just a flickering shadow of an unknown emperor, you are far from worthy of making her kneel."
"Shen... Immortal Clan?" Lei Yin's ghost flickered, his voice trembling. "Could it be... That Shen Clan? That hegemon from the Imperial Capital?"
"Oh? It seems you are far more knowledgeable than I thought," Haoran said, his smirk returning.
Lei Yin narrowed his eyes, his spectral form stabilizing as his pride fought back his fear. "...So what if you are from the Shen Clan!? Brat, in my era, I was still a Supreme Emperor! I ruled the stars while your parents were still counting spirit stones!"
"And I don't care," Haoran interrupted, his patience reaching its end. "Are you going to hand over your inheritance willingly, or not?"
Lei Yin exhaled a mist of silver light. "Kid, for the sake of the Shen Clan's face, I will forgive yours and that girl's offense. But as for my inheritance—forget it. I will let you take whatever you find in my realm, but my core legacy is reserved for the one fated by the stars."
"I see." Haoran nodded slowly, a look of cold, murderous intent, crossing his face.
Them, from his spatial ring, he took out a simple looking obsidian knife, but with its blade wreathed in a dark, purple flame that seemed to consume the surrounding light.
"Then... die."
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