Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 124: Story

The marble floor of the Fire Wind Sect’s grand hall was stained with blossoms of dark blood.

The parents, once proud paragons of the Fire Wind Sect, now lay broken under the crushing weight of Qing’er’s aura and truth they couldn’t deny.

The spiritual pressure emitting from Qing’er was so dense it felt as if the atmosphere had turned to lead, pinning them to the cold stone.

They coughed up mouthfuls of blood, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating shroud of shame and guilt that Haoran’s words had draped over their souls.

Every syllable Haoran uttered struck like a divine gavel. It was the truth, unvarnished and cruel.

Even Chu Xueyu, the woman the world whispered of as the "Ruthless Empress," a being known for massacring entire species to the point of extinction and painting the stars red with the blood of her enemies, had never once thought of abandoning or forgetting her own son.

Her love was a terrifying, obsessive fire, but it was a fire that warmed its own.

Yet they—the "moral" victims who had spent decades cursing her cruelty—had done the unthinkable.

They had completely abandoned their firstborn, in favor of a pampered, arrogant replacement.

Haoran watched them, his golden eyes flickering with a cold, analytical light.

He wasn’t interested in a simple execution; death was far too merciful for such a delicious irony.

He needed a punishment that would fester, something that would turn their past, present, and future into a cycle of unending torment.

He smirked, letting out an expression of pure, refined malice, before chuckling softly to himself.

"Ah, yes," he whispered, "that sounds like a fitting end to this little drama."

He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a sleek, silver communication artifact—a masterpiece of Shen craftsmanship as he tapped the surface, and a few moments later, a shimmering holographic image of the Willow Spirit projected into the center of the hall.

The ethereal, green-robed goddess looked out from the projection, her expression wary and guarded.

Before leaving the Stone Village, Haoran had seen fit to leave her with this device.

After all, he wanted to always know the status of her student, as he doesn’t want anything wrong to happen.

"Willow Spirit," Haoran began, his voice smooth and commanding. "Have you told your disciple the truth about his parents yet?"

The Willow Spirit shook her head, her green eyes reflecting a deep sadness. "No. When I informed his parents that he had finally awakened from his slumber, they offered no response. They did not visit, and they did not even send a single word of comfort. So I decided it was best to keep him in ignorance for now, to let him find his own path once he grows into his strength."

"Good." Haoran’s smirk widened into a predatory grin. "Now, listen carefully. When the time is right, when the seed of his ambition begins to sprout, I want you to tell him a story. A very specific story."

The parents on the floor looked up, their eyes widening with a sudden, icy dread.

"Tell him this," Haoran continued, his voice echoing through the hall like a decree from the underworld. "Tell him he was born into the Shen Clan, into a branch family of great prestige. Tell him he was blessed from birth with an extraordinary physique, a genius meant to be adored by the masses. But tell him his parents... they did not love him, and instead, they harbored a dark preference for his younger brother."

Haoran leaned in closer to the projection, his golden eyes glowing. "Tell him that because the younger brother was born weak and fragile, his parents committed a heinous sin. In their twisted desperation, they tore the divine physique out of his chest, the very light of his soul, and implanted it into his younger brother to save his life. Tell him they then cast him down to this lower realm, hiding him in the mud so that the clan would never discover their crime. Tell him that you, the benevolent goddess, found his broken body and spent twenty years stitching his life back together."

The hall was silent, save for the ragged breathing of the parents.

"And for the final touch," Haoran added, his voice dripping with venom, "tell him that because the physique was stolen, it became a curse. Tell him his younger brother became a broken cripple, his eyes blinded by the aftereffects of the transplant. Tell him that when the Matriarch, Chu Xueyu, finally discovered this atrocity, she acted as the hand of justice. She punished the parents, stripping them of their cultivation and banishing them to the lower realm to live in shame alongside their blind, broken son."

Hmm, not enough, he thought. He needed their son to harbor hatred to towards his own parents.

"Then, add this. The reason you found out everything is because his parents visited you, who was injured then, and wanted to use your life force to heal their beloved son, but you resisted, and eventually managed to drive them off, in exchange of your injuries becoming even more severe."

The silence that followed was absolute as the parents stared at Haoran with wide, glassy eyes, paralyzed by the sheer, terrifying audacity of his lie.

He was casually flipping the script of reality, painting the victim as the villain and the thief as the savior.

He was giving Shen Hao a reason to hate his parents with a passion that would burn through the heavens, all while casting Haoran’s own mother as the righteous judge.

A few moments later, the Willow Spirit gave a slow, somber nod, as although she didn’t like the lie, she also saw the utility in it—and more importantly, she knew she had no choice. "Very well. I shall weave the tale as you have requested. Is there anything else, Young Master Shen?"

"None for now. I will call when the next act begins." With a flick of his wrist, Haoran ended the call as the holographic light vanished, leaving the hall in shadow.

Qing’er, who had remained as silent as a statue, leaned in and whispered into Haoran’s ear. "Young Master... a minor discrepancy. This second son of theirs... he isn’t a cripple. He is currently quite healthy, if somewhat useless."

Haoran didn’t even look back and just simply waved his hand toward the unconscious youth lying in the corner as a surge of chaotic, golden Qi erupted from his palm, striking the boy like a physical bolt.

*CRACK...SHATTER!*

The sound of meridians imploding and a Dantian shattering filled the room.

But Haoran’s Qi didn’t stop there; it moved with surgical precision, snapping the bones in all four of the boy’s limbs, ensuring he will never be able to use all of it in the future.

The second son jerked awake, letting out a high-pitched, gargling scream of absolute agony before his mind shut down and he passed out once more, now a twisted heap of broken flesh.

"Now he is," Haoran said simply.

"You!" The father managed to find his voice, his teeth red with his own blood. "You are a demon! You aren’t human! You and your entire cursed clan deserve to rot in the deepest pits of hell!"

Haoran tilted his head, considering the statement, and nodded in agreement, much to the shock of the parents.

"I think we probably should," he replied, his tone conversational. "After all, we are a bunch of egocentric, high-functioning psychopaths. It’s practically our family motto."

He smiled then—a cold, beautiful expression that was more terrifying than any snarl. "But at least, uncle... we don’t abandon and forget our own blood. We protect our own, even if the world has to burn for it."

"You—! You bastard!"

"Yes, I’m a bastard," Haoran laughed, standing up and adjusting his pristine robes. "But at least I’m a bastard who knows who his mother is. At least I’m a bastard who didn’t leave his firstborn to rot in a tree while I fed silk to a pig."

"You—! You—! Cough—pfftt!" The father’s eyes rolled back as he coughed up a final, violent spray of blood, his consciousness slipping.

The mother looked up at Haoran, her face a mask of grief and dawning realization. "You think... you think Hao’er would believe those lies? You think he would choose your story over the truth?"

Haoran looked down at her, his gaze filled with a pity that was worse than hatred. "You think he would believe the parents who abandoned him and didn’t visit him for all these years? Or will he believe the Master who treated him like her own flesh and blood, who cared for him and protected him when he was a dying scrap of meat? People are more likely to believe anything told to them by the person they love and loved them, aunt. And you... you haven’t loved him in a very long time."

The mother remained silent, her head bowing as the weight of her choices finally crushed her spirit.

Just then, Haoran clapped his hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the ruined hall.

"Alright, that’s that," he said, turning toward the exit. "Everything is in place. I want to see a truly spectacular family feud when the boy finally comes knocking on these doors. Thank you in advance for the entertainment, aunt and uncle. Try to stay alive until then."

With a wave of his hand, Qing’er nodded as thr space began to ripple.

He and Qing’er stepped into the void, vanishing from the Fire Wind Sect as quickly as they had arrived, leaving behind a family that will someday be broken by the very boy they had once tried to replace.