Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

"Well then, system...please survive long enough for this to be an entertainment."

Shen Haoran grabbed Qing’er by her shoulder, the soft fabric of her newly repaired robes under his palm, and with a single thought, the two of them instantly vanished from the black metallic earth below.

The spatial shifting within his personal domain occurred entirely without the standard spiritual friction or latency of normal cultivation movement techniques; they didn’t traverse space, but rather, space itself reconfigured around them.

In a fraction of a millisecond, they immediately appeared within the grand, vaulted control room located at the heavily fortified center of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, where the master can manually control the garden’s weaponry.

The chamber was an immaculate fusion of ancient majesty and impossible, foreign architecture.

Towering pillars of dark, polished alloy stretched up into a ceiling that hummed with rows of glowing crimson circuits, pulsating like the rhythmic heartbeat of a slumbering mechanical deity.

The air here was perfectly crisp, smelling faintly of ozone and pure, unrefined energy.

Without a single word, Haoran walked up the wide golden throne and sat down firmly on the massive, high-backed throne of obsidian and gold.

The very moment his physical form made contact with the seat, the central control arrays of the fortress recognized their sovereign.

The crimson circuits along the walls flared with blinding intensity, and instantly, a massive, semi-circular holographic projection snapped into existence right in front of him.

The floating screen displayed a crystal-clear, high-definition feed of the desolate terrain down below, focusing directly on the small, motionless silhouette of Xiao Long, or rather, the ancient system that was currently overriding his host’s spirit form.

Haoran leaned back into the throne, his posture entirely relaxed, his left elbow resting casually on the obsidian armrest as he supported his chin with his hand.

His golden eyes reflected the pale blue light of the holographic interface, watching the machine-like entity that stood completely isolated in the middle of his black metallic desert.

He extended his right arm forward toward the screen, his long fingers splaying out calmly as he delivered a singular, dictatorial command that echoed through the entire framework of his domain:

"Disappear."

The response from the hanging fortress was instantaneous and utterly cataclysmic.

Outside the throne room, across the massive, multi-tiered exterior of the floating mountain of steel, thousands of hidden mechanical ports and ancient runic arrays slid open simultaneously.

*HUMMMMMMMMMMM——!*

A dense, deafening vibration resonated through the crimson sky as countless massive, overlapping runic circles—each one spanning hundreds of meters in diameter and glowing with a volatile, deep purple and white light—appeared in front of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, interlocking like the cogs of a cosmic clock.

Then, without a single secondary moment of delay, the fortress immediately rained down a relentless, apocalyptic torrent of concentrated rays of pure, hyper-dense light.

These were not common elemental lasers or simple streams of compressed qi; they were localized conceptual strikes powered directly by the nigh-infinite energy of Haoran’s Infinity Dragon God Physique.

Every single ray of light was literally distorting, tearing, and twisting the very fabric of space and time along its linear path, leaving dark, jagged wakes of absolute nothingness where the natural physical laws of the domain were being forcefully vaporized.

Down below on the black metallic earth, the system’s advanced predictive threat modules instantly flagged the descending barrage as an absolute, world-ending catastrophic event.

The mechanical calm in its expression did not slip, but its possessed body moved with an explosive, reality-defying speed that pushed the peak limits of the Supreme Emperor Realm.

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*

The first wave of light rays slammed into the metallic ground, and the sheer, unmitigated kinetic and spatial impact triggered an apocalyptic explosion that tore the entire lower domain apart.

The black metal buckled and liquefied under the intense heat, sending massive, molten waves of dark alloy roaring into the air like a volcanic eruption.

The shockwaves generated by the impact were so incredibly immense that the entire independent world began to violently shake, groan, and tilt on its cosmic axis.

The system became a blur of pale silver light, stepping through the fractures of reality to dodge the absolute destruction.

It utilized advanced spatial warping, stepping three thousand feet to the left in a single millisecond, only for a dark purple ray of light to slice cleanly through the space it had occupied a fraction of a breath prior.

The residual spatial distortion of the ray caught the edge of its spiritual aura, instantly shredding the protective barrier into microscopic fragments and forcing the system to cough up a mouthful of Xiao Long’s blood.

Realizing that passive defense and evasion were mathematically insufficient to ensure survival within a locked world, the system stopped its flight.

It planted its boots firmly onto a melting ridge of black metal and threw its hands up toward the crimson sky, its eyes glowing with a blinding, pale white fire that illuminated the darkness.

[Domain Override: Absolute Celestial Suppression] the system’s mechanical voice roared, the sound overlapping with a thousand digital echoes.

The full, unrestricted volume of its Supreme Emperor qi erupted outward from its palms, forming a colossal, shimmering dome of absolute, crystalline white energy that expanded rapidly, attempting to forcefully push back Haoran’s crimson sky and reclaim its original desert domain.

As the two supreme, irreconcilable forces collided in mid-air, a spectacular, terrifying war of concepts began to tear the independent world to pieces.

The sky above began to wildly crack, long, jagged chasms of absolute pitch-black void spreading across the crimson atmosphere like a shattering glass dome as the system’s white energy desperately clawed for dominance against the heavy, oppressive weight of the hanging fortress.

*CRACK-CRACK-SHNG!*

The system countered the descending rays of light, swinging its arms with savage, calculated precision.

With every swing, it unleashed massive, crescent-shaped blades of compressed spatial energy that flew upward to intercept the fortress’s artillery.

When the system’s spatial blades clashed with the rays of foreign light, the explosions didn’t produce sound—they produced a terrifying, dead silence where the local air, light, and sound waves were instantly compressed into tiny, high-density gravitational singularities before collapsing inward and violently detonating outward.

The apocalyptic battle raged on with earth-shattering ferocity.

The system was moving at speeds that defied the visual perception of any mortal being, dancing through a continuous, blinding grid of space-tearing beams, its form flickering rapidly across the melting metallic wasteland.

Every single time it managed to successfully counter or redirect a ray of light using its Supreme Emperor force, the resulting concussive shockwave would ripple upward, creating massive, turbulent storms of residual energy that hammered against the lower protective barriers of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

The domain was a chaotic maelstrom of liquid metal, tearing skies, and blinding flashes of purple and white light, the very rules of physical reality bending, twisting, and breaking with every single millisecond that passed in the desperate clash between machine logic and divine architecture.

Inside the garden, Shen Haoran grinned as he watched the system dodge and counter, like a helpless child that couldn’t fight back.

His fingers lightly tapped a slow, rhythmic pattern against the golden armrest of his grand throne, his golden eyes completely filled with a terrifyingly cold, predatory satisfaction.

Down below on the holographic screen, the machine that had just boasted about wielding the invulnerable strength of a Supreme Emperor was now being systematically reduced to a frantic, scrambling insect, forced to expend massive amounts of its stolen luck values just to stay a single breath ahead of absolute spatial obliteration.

It was exhilarating.

The sheer, intoxicating rush of commanding a legendary, world-crushing structure like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon to effortlessly dismantle a high-tier antagonist variable—without ever having to step down into the dirt himself—sent a thrill of genuine amusement through his otherwise apathetic soul.

But soon... the cold, calculating smile on Haoran’s face slowly began to stiffen.

His eyes narrowed into sharp, analytical slits as the holographic projection began to flash with a sudden, highly erratic burst of dense, multi-colored spiritual data.

The system was not operating on common logic anymore.

As if sensing that one of its chosen was so closed to death, the Heavens have decided to actively interfere, and Xiao Long’s heavy, logic-defying protagonist plot armor were beginning to forcefully activate in response to the imminent threat of destruction.

At this moment, the universe itself seemed to twist, rewriting its own laws to protect its favored son.

[Warning: Host Soul Integrity approaching critical threshold,] the system’s mechanical voice echoed internally, though it manifested physically as a strange, high-frequency distortion that rippled across the melting black metallic earth. [Initiating Emergency Protocol: Unrestricted Heavenly Influence.]

*SHNG!*

Without a single fraction of a second of warning, right as a massive, thousand meter wide ray of foreign light was about to completely incinerate the ridge where it stood, the space directly in front of the system split wide open.

Out of the jagged spatial rift, a weathered, completely ordinary-looking wooden shield covered in ancient, moldy moss flew out into the air.

It was the Shield of the First Martyr—a seemingly worthless trash-tier artifact that Xiao Long had casually picked up from a common street vendor when he was strolling the academy city, and had been sitting forgotten in the depths of his system inventory.

Yet, the exact second the space-tearing beam of the fortress made physical contact with the decaying wood, the ancient moss exploded with a blinding, absolute golden light.

The light beam, capable of killing even Shen Clan’s Supreme, was completely and flawlessly absorbed by the wooden shield, converting the catastrophic kinetic impact into a gentle, soothing wave of pure spiritual qi that instantly healed another twenty percent of Xiao Long’s injuries.

"What?" Qing’er gasped from beside the throne, her fingers tightening around her black dagger as she stared at the holographic feed in sheer, utter disbelief. "How can a common piece of rotted wood completely neutralize a direct strike from an Imperial Artifact?"

"I see, so this is what mother meant," Haoran muttered, his voice dropping into a low, thoroughly displeased tone. "Indeed, if this system keeps pulling out things like this, then it would really be hard to kill this guy. Fine, I will not let you get a chance to even breathe."

But the system was already moving with an entirely new, unhinged momentum.

As the sky above the fortress began to warp with a secondary, even more massive runic matrix, the system reached its hand deep into its storage ring, pulling out a second random, completely unrelated object from its deep stash of protagonist garbage: a broken jade comb that belonged to a forgotten princess of a minor mortal kingdom.

It was stored in the system’s vault, and should’ve been used as a reward to Xiao Long so that he can get a heroine for himself.

But now, it was being used so that he can survive.

The moment the system snapped the jade comb in half, the residual karmic ties of that minor princess—who, by statistically impossible coincidence, happened to be the distant, reincarnated descendant of a Primordial Goddess of Space—triggered a massive, localized paradox.

At that instant, a colossal, beautiful image of a celestial maiden materialized across the crimson sky, her ghostly hands sweeping outward.

The movement instantly rewrote the trajectory of three hundred descending rays of light, causing them to turn ninety degrees in mid-air and violently collide with each other, detonating in a massive, blinding flash of purple fire that shook the very foundations of the hanging fortress.

Back in the control room, Haoran’s knuckles turned white against the armrest of his throne. "Annoying. How incredibly annoying. Do these anomalies somehow have the bloodline of a cockroach? Increase the output by three hundred percent."

Outside, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon groaned as its secondary energy conduits flared, raining down an absolute, inescapable sheet of destruction that completely blanketed every single square inch of the lower domain, leaving absolutely no room for physical evasion or spatial warping.

Yet, face-to-face with the total, inescapable wipeout, the system’s pale eyes remained entirely blank.

Guided by the supreme directives of the heaven(plot armor), its hand dived into its inventory for a third time, pulling out a small, dried-up piece of charcoal—a piece of fuel Xiao Long had used to cook a common spiritual rabbit when he and Chu Yan stayed up late in that hill for training.

Xiao Long found out that this coal wasn’t burning out, and when he scanned it with the system, it came out blank, so he stored it, thinking that it might be useful in the future.

And indeed, it is.

Because this is a remnant of an ancient tortoise beast, said to possessed a shell so inxred tough, it was virtually indestructible.

The system crushed the charcoal into a fine black dust, scattering it into the air.

*BOOM!*

The simple carbon dust instantly reacted with the atmospheric ozone of Haoran’s independent world.

A colossal, impenetrable dome of crystalline turtle shells— the shell of the Grand Tortoise Ward of the Northern Seas—erupted from the ground, encapsulating the system in a multi-layered shield that absorbed the entire three hundred percent maximum output of the fortress’s artillery without showing a single fracture.

The sheer, ridiculous absurdity of the defensive manifestations was mind-boggling.

The system was pulling out random, useless trinkets from its inventory, and the Heaven’s luck was instantly transforming them into a flawless counter-measures that completely defied the standard hierarchy of cultivation realms.

It was a masterclass in protagonist survivability, a display of absolute plot armor that refused to let its host die, turning a one-sided execution into a bizarre, earth-shattering stalemate.

Haoran stared at them, and this time, he felt like he really was about to lose his cool.