Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

On an empty classroom, the air was thick with the scent of stale chalk dust and old wood.

The late afternoon shadows stretched long and thin across the floorboards, matching the bleakness that had settled deep into the bones of the young prince.

"I see." Xu Jingshan nodded as Bai Wenxin relayed Haoran’s refusal.

He tried to keep his voice level, to maintain the dignified mask expected of the third prince of the Tian Yuan Empire, but a slight tremor betrayed his inner turmoil.

"Thank you for trying, sister Wenxin."

Bai Wenxin, leaning on a door frame, arms crossed, stared at him and nodded. Her ruby eyes held no pity, only a calm, detached understanding of the harsh realities governing their world.

She had delivered the message exactly as promised, and she had witnessed the inevitable answer.

To her, the matter was thoroughly closed.

"Take care, don’t stress yourself over things you can’t control," she said before standing straight and leaving.

Her soft footsteps faded down the quiet, deserted hallway, leaving him entirely alone in the dimming room.

Xu Jingshan watched as she left, his body perfectly still, his breath hitched in his throat.

He waited until the last echoes of her departure completely vanished into the quiet corridors of the academy.

And once she was gone, his expression immediately turned ferocious.

The polite, desperate prince vanished. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage, his veins bulging against his neck and temples.

The sheer humiliation, the terrifying weight of a collapsing empire, and the crushing realization that he was nothing more than an ant in the eyes of the immortal clans broke his remaining sanity.

"Damn it! Damn it! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

A guttural roar ripped from his throat as he lunged forward, channeling his spiritual energy in a chaotic, violent burst.

He started smashing and throwing the chairs and desks all over the room, his eyes turning red in anger.

"Fuck you Shen Clan! How dare you look down on us, the Imperial Family!? You think you’re so great!?"

With a savage kick, a heavy mahogany desk shattered into splinters against the stone wall.

"All of you deserve to die! All of you are subjects of the Empire, how dare you disobey!?"

He grabbed a chair, hurling it through a glass window, the sharp crash of shattering glass echoing like a death knell in the empty space.

He overturned everything in sight, breathing heavily, a rabid beast trapped in a cage of his own political insignificance.

His rampage continued for a few minutes before he calmed down.

The storm of physical violence slowly receded, leaving him standing in the center of the ruined classroom, surrounded by broken wood and shattered glass.

His chest heaved up and down as he ran a trembling hand through his messy hair, forcing the wild, chaotic energy back into his dantian.

"No, I can’t lose my cool here," he whispered, brows furrowed, his voice raspy and hollow.

He closed his eyes, forcing his rapidly beating heart to slow down. He was a prince; he could not afford the luxury of a prolonged breakdown.

"I still have my trump card. If push comes to shove, I can still protect myself."

He clutched a small, intricately carved jade amulet hidden beneath his heavy inner robes.

It was a life-saving treasure, a final, absolute sanctuary that he found a few years ago in secret. This is something that made him, a mediocre prince, into the genius prince of today.

It couldn’t save his family’s empire, but it could ensure his own survival if the world burned to ash around him.

But now, he was very reluctant to use it yet unless there are no longer any options.

"Right now, I need to think of more ways to calm this chaos," he whispered.

He paced through the wreckage, his boots crunching over the glass shards.

The looming threat of the open trials, the watching eyes of the entire empire, and the whispers of imminent rebellion pressured him from all sides.

He needed a stabilizing force, a powerful anchor to hold the fracturing factions together.

Should he ask his teacher?

The thought flashed through his mind, offering a momentary glimmer of hope.

His teacher was an existence of profound power, a legendary figure whose words carried immense weight across the lands.

"No, that will be disturbing his teacher’s mortal cultivation, and I couldn’t afford that."

He immediately shook his head, dismissing the idea with a pang of dread.

His teacher was currently undergoing a critical, delicate stage of experiencing the mortal world to break through a bottleneck in his cultivation path.

To forcefully disrupt that process for the sake of mundane, earthly politics would not only invite his teacher’s severe displeasure but could also permanently damage his teacher’s cultivation foundation.

It was a risk he simply could not take.

"What do I do..." he whispered, staring blankly at the ruined floor, his voice fading into the quiet, darkening room.

*

*

*

Later that night.

At this moment, in Falling Blossom Villa, under the moonlight, the atmosphere was entirely different.

The villa was a paradise of serene beauty, nestled away from the chaotic political currents of the capital.

Moonlight fell in silver sheets over a pristine courtyard filled with night-blooming spiritual lotuses, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the pale stone tiles.

A gentle, cool evening breeze rustled through the pink blossoms of the ancient trees, sending a delicate shower of petals dancing through the air like fragrant snow.

Under this radiant, luminescent sky, Shen Xinye was still practicing her sword form.

She was a vision of absolute focus, her slender figure moving with a fluid, mesmerizing grace.

Her training sword flashed like a silver streak in the darkness, cutting through the falling petals with flawless precision.

Her white robes billowed around her, tracing the elegant, sharp lines of her clan’s ancestral techniques.

Every strike was precise, every shift of her weight deliberate, yet her brow was slightly furrowed, her breathing rhythmic as she strived for perfection to ensure she wouldn’t disgrace her partner in the upcoming trials.

After doing the final stance, a sharp, sweeping strike that gathered the surrounding wind into a neat, silent crescent, she held the pose, her chest heaving slightly as she exhaled a soft breath of pure spiritual qi.

Suddenly, a crisp, rhythmic clapping sound resounded as Haoran appeared behind her.

He stepped out from the shadows of a large blossoming tree, his striking features illuminated by the gentle moonlight.

A faint, admiring smile graced his lips, his dark eyes locked onto her trembling form.

"A truly flawless execution, Xinye," Haoran praised her, his voice low, smooth, and incredibly rich in the quiet night.

Coming from him, provided he wasn’t just being polite, proves how good she is with a sword.

He walked toward her with slow, unhurried steps, the silver light catching the intricate silk embroidery of his dark robes.

"Your form is exceptionally beautiful, but you are holding yourself too rigidly. You are fighting the wind instead of letting it carry your blade."

Shen Xinye flinched, her heart leaping into her throat as she heard his voice.

She quickly turned around, lowering her sword, her face instantly exploding into a deep, burning crimson under the moonlight.

"Y-Young master! You’re back... I didn’t realize you were watching."

"If I didn’t come out, how long were you planning to push yourself tonight?" Haoran teased her, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "You seem to be quite eager to be my partner, Xinye."

Before she could offer a timid excuse, he closed the distance between them.

Moving with an effortless, sweeping grace, he stepped directly into her personal space, closing the gap until she could feel the steady warmth radiating from his chest.

He reached out, his large, warm hands gently enveloping hers from behind, his fingers wrapping firmly over her smaller hands around the hilt of the sword.

He pulled her back slightly, aligning her spine against his solid chest, completely trapping her within his embrace.

Shen Xinye’s breath caught completely.

She became utterly immobilized, her mind turning into a chaotic, swirling fog of pure embarrassment and boundless, overflowing joy.

The intoxicating, clean scent of his presence enveloped her senses, making her knees feel weak.

She felt his chin resting lightly near her shoulder, his warm breath brushing against her sensitive ear, causing a delicate shiver to run straight down her spine.

"Relax your shoulders," Haoran murmured softly, his hands guiding hers to lift the sword back into the starting stance. "Don’t just force your qi through the meridians. Feel the rhythm of the sword intent. Like this..."

Moving her arms with a gentle, commanding strength, he guided her through the opening sequence of the form.

He shifted her stance, his thigh pressing lightly against hers to correct her balance, his hands tilting her wrists at a precise, optimal angle.

Soon, Shen Xinye noticed that it was now easier to move and circulate her qi and sword intent.

Under his deliberate, masterful guidance, the stubborn blockages in her spiritual pathways seemed to dissolve instantly.

The chaotic, turbulent energy she had been struggling with all evening suddenly smoothed out, flowing like a serene, unstoppable river through her limbs.

The sword intent radiating from the blade didn’t scatter into the air anymore; instead, it condensed into a sharp, flawless layer of absolute sharpness, perfectly in sync with her breath and movements.

It was as if he had unlocked a hidden door within her comprehension, elevating her technique to an entirely new realm of mastery in a matter of seconds.

"See?" Haoran whispered, his voice vibrating slightly against her back as they completed a slow, perfectly balanced sweeping motion together. "You possess the talent, Xinye. You simply care too much about the outcome, which clouds your inner clarity."

"I... I just don’t want to drag you down during the trials, Young Master," she whispered timidly, her voice trembling slightly as she leaned her head back against his shoulder, her heart swelling with an intense affection. "The entire empire will be watching. I want to be someone you can be proud of."

Haoran let out a soft, amused chuckle, his hands sliding down from the sword hilt to wrap possessively around her slender waist, pulling her even closer into his embrace.

The training sword slipped from her loosened grip, clattering softly onto the moonlit grass.

"Drag me down?" Haoran teased her, his lips brushing lightly against the crown of her head, sending a fresh wave of warmth through her body. "Who under the heavens would dare to look down on a member of the Shen Clan, much less someone from the Ten Crowns? Besides, even if you decide to sit down and take a nap during the trial, I can wipe out the entire wilderness all on my own. Your only job is to stay by my side and look beautiful. Can you manage that for me?"

Shen Xinye buried her glowing face in his chest, her hands clutching at the fabric of his robes as she let out a small, embarrassed whine. "Young master... please don’t tease me like that."

"I am entirely serious," he murmured, his grip tightening affectionately around her waist as they stood together beneath the falling blossoms, the silver moonlight washing over them in perfect, undisturbed tranquility.

Shen Xinye chuckled, feeling her nervousness lessening.

"...thank you, young master."

Shen Haoran hummed, "Hmm, now go wash up, the girls are at the hotsprings, waiting for you."

Shen Xinye nodded, "Understood. Thank you again, young master."

With that, she broke away and immediately run off.

Haoran just stared at her back until she disappeared before staring at the sky.

’Soon, Lin Che...if you don’t stand with me, then you stand against me. I will make sure to annihilate you.’