Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

The Underground Grand Prison of the Shen Clan was a marvel of architectural cruelty and spatial engineering that could make hell look like a paradise.

It was not merely a hole in the ground, but more of a subterranean fortress of nigh-infinite scale, carved into the tectonic plates of the Shen Clan Domain and reinforced with the blood-soaked stones of conquered realms.

This was created specifically to house the most dangerous heretics, political rivals, and betrayers of the bloodline, holding them down either because they are too difficult to kill, too valuable to kill, or simply to torment them and make them experience pain worse than death.

It was partitioned into seven distinct layers, and as the depth increased, the laws of physics seemed to deteriorate alongside the prisoners’ sanity.

The deeper one traveled, the more ancient and terrifying the inmates became, and the harsher the environmental conditions.

By the time one reached the fourth or fifth layer, the air itself was replaced by corrosive miasma and crystal fragments for air, making those who breathe it in suffer from their insides being cut, and those fragments would even travel alongside the blood all over their body!

However, in the First Layer, the conditions were almost civil by comparison, as it was just labyrinth of mossy obsidian bricks and cold iron bars, though these bars were etched with suppression runes capable of withstanding the concentrated, desperate attacks of a peak Nascent Soul expert.

Those imprisoned here are those who simply did a minor offence, or those who were too weak to withstand the deeper floors.

In a cell toward the end of the western corridor, Xiao Chen sat on a stone slab.

The "Protagonist" now looked like a ghost of his former self.

He was cuffed with Void-Drain Shackles, a set of heavy, black metal manacles that actively sucked the Qi from his meridians, leaving him in a perpetual state of physical and spiritual exhaustion.

He stared at the damp floor in a daze, his mind looping through the humiliation in the hall, unable to comprehend how he had ended up in this cage.

In the cell directly opposite him, Ye Fang had just clawed his way back to consciousness.

The impact of Haoran’s flick had left him with a lingering migraine that felt like a hot needle behind his eyes.

But he sat up, his silk robes now stained with the grime of the dungeon, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth in a manic, silent rage.

’What did I do to deserve this?!’ he screamed internally, his eyes darting around the shadows. ’I have a System! I am a transmigrator! I am the one who is supposed to be holding the leash! Just you wait, Shen Haoran. Once my System refreshed and I could write my next diary update and I get some high-tier rewards from the system, I will wreck havoc in this prison. I’ll pull this place down like how Brother Sun, The Great Sage Equal To Heavens, wrecked the Celestial Courts!’

Just then, the heavy, rune-locked doors at the end of the corridor groaned open, but the sound was not the clanking of a guard, but a soft, rhythmic thrum of power.

It was Leng Shuang, the Conferred Tyrant, walking into the hallway.

Ye Fang’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he recognized her instantly from the novel illustrations.

In the original novel, "The Abandoned Prince’s Counterattacks", Leng Shuang was a figure of pure, unadulterated terror, one that is hated by fans for her cruelty, but also one they love because she’s hot.

She was the woman who had spent centuries subduing entire star systems, ruling them with an iron fist that made Chu Xueyu, the Ruthless Empress look moderate by comparison.

He remembered the "End of the Empire" arc vividly, where in the final Chapters, Leng Shuang had reached a point of such cold pragmatism that she activated an ancient, forbidden demonic formation and sucked the life-force and soul-essence from every living inhabitant of the realms she had conquered!

She had then concentrated that multiversal scale energy into a single strike to annihilate Xiao Chen and his united coalition.

That single attack alone had reduced the Tian Yuan Empire, a territory that eclipsed dozens of universes, into a grey, barren wasteland.

After that final battle, although the Shen Clan was eventually defeated, the cultivation world was broken beyond repair, causing the "Era of Saints" to end, and the world entered an age of scarcity where the strongest living masters could barely touch the Nascent Soul realm.

Of course, the author hadn’t lingered on that devastation, because Xiao Chen and his harem had simply ascended to the "Immortal World," leaving the ruins behind.

Ye Fang had heard that a sequel existed about a new protagonist trying to fix the wasteland Leng Shuang created, but he hadn’t reached that part before his transmigration.

"System... future... research," Leng Shuang muttered, her golden eyes glowing with an analytical light as she stopped in front of Ye Fang’s cell.

Ye Fang’s heart plummeted hearing that, and blood immediately drained from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse.

’I’m doomed. I’m absolutely doomed!’ he thought, his knees shaking. ’They found out about the system! They found out my knowledge about the future!’

Leng Shuang didn’t bother with a key as she merely flicked her wrist, and the obsidian bars dissolved into mist, reforming a second later behind her.

She then motioned with a single, slender finger, and instantly, Ye Fang felt an invisible force wrap around his neck like a noose of cold wire as he was yanked off the stone slab, his feet dragging as he was levitated out of the cell.

The pressure was so intense he couldn’t even let out a whimper.

"You... are a very good research material," Leng Shuang said, her voice devoid of any human warmth, as if it was the voice of a mad scientist looking at a particularly interesting specimen of mold.

"No! No! I—" Ye Fang tried to plead, but the moment he opened his mouth, he felt a surge of Leng Shuang’s Qi shove itself directly down his throat.

It felt like swallowing liquid lead, causing him to gag, his body twitching in mid-air as tears, snot, and saliva flowed uncontrollably from his nose and eyes.

Leng Shuang turned towards Xiao Chen, but didn’t bother sparing him a second glance seeing him remain in his Qi-starved daze in the opposite cell.

She simply turned and walked out of the dungeon, the floating, twitching, and gagging form of Ye Fang trailing behind her like a macabre balloon.

Outside, she saw her sisters waiting for him.

"Fufufu, it has been decades since the last time I found such interesting specimen." Feng Yuyan chuckled.

Chu Xueyu sighed, "I don’t know what you two find interesting about dissecting someone’s body and soul."

"You love dissecting people too!" Feng Yuyan pouted at her.

"Yeah, to kill them." Chu Xueyu rolled her eyes, "Not to study them."

Feng Yuyan smirked, "You’re missing out, you uncultured swine!"

"Call me that again and I’ll kill you."

"Hmph!" Feng Yuyan snorted, grabbed Leng Shuang hands and dragged her away, "Come on, sister! Let’s leave this uneducated woman behind! She knows not what she’s missing."

*

*

*

Back at the Lake, the dark clouds had now fully dispersed, leaving the sky clear and the air crisp.

Inside the kiosk, the three once again sat and having tea.

"What you gave me is indeed an incredible piece of information," Haoran said, his voice returning to its calm tone as he looked at Luo Mingye, who was still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of the Heavenly Tribulation. "Information regarding a ’System’ and a ’Diary’ is worth more than a thousand spirit mines. Tell me, Mingye... what reward do you want? You can ask for anything."

Luo Mingye’s face instantly flushed a deep, vibrant crimson as she looked down at her lap, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress.

Her mind, previously occupied by cosmic terror, was now a chaotic swirl of romantic ambition.

"Can... can I truly ask for anything?" she whispered.

Haoran raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement returning to his eyes. "Sure. As long as I deem the request worth the value of the information, and believe me, the information was priceless."

"T-Then," Luo Mingye stuttered, her heart hammering against her ribs as she took a deep breath, her eyes squeezed shut as she summoned every ounce of courage she possessed. "H-How about a kiss!?"

"Wha—!?" Xia Mengyao stared at her friend in absolute disbelief, her eyes widened, her jaw dropping.

She had expected Mingye to ask for a Saint-grade artifact, or perhaps an immortal herb or pill to help her grandfather breakthrough, but this?

"I... I mean," Luo Mingye continued, her voice growing smaller and higher in pitch, "I already planned on marrying you anyway, eventually! So... so a little practice wouldn’t hurt? Maybe it’s a fair trade for—"

"Sure," Haoran interrupted, his smirk widening. "Is that all you want? You’re selling your secrets quite cheaply, Mingye."

"Hm?"

Before Luo Mingye’s brain could even process the word "Sure," Haoran was already in front of her.

The movement was so fluid it seemed as though he had simply folded space as he reached out, his hand firm yet surprisingly gentle, and grabbed her chin, tilting her face upward.

’W-What is happening?!’ Xia Mengyao’s thoughts were a chaotic mess.

Her face turned as red as a ripe tomato as she instinctively covered her eyes with her hands.

However, the curiosity was too much; she couldn’t help but peek through the gaps in her fingers, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

’M-Mingye!’ she screamed internally, her mind spinning. ’You... you shouldn’t give yourself away so easily! This is so shameless! W-Wait... t-tongue?! Is that a tongue?! H-how lewd!’

Xia Mengyao stood there, frozen, her sword-master’s discipline utterly useless against the sight before her.

She had spent her life studying the Dao of Sword, and her understanding of human intimacy was limited to the chaste poems of the Flower Mountain Sect.

She didn’t even know until this very moment that a tongue could be used in such a sensory, overwhelming way.

To her, it looked less like a kiss and more like a mutual consumption of souls.

Haoran pulled back a few inches, his golden eyes dark and satisfied as he looked at the dazed, breathless Luo Mingye.

"The first payment," he whispered, "is settled. Do you want to ask for something more?"