Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

The Eastern Region of the Tian Yuan Empire had always been a land of relative peace compared to the cutthroat politics of the Central Region, but that peace had been shattered more than three years ago.

When the inheritance realm of the Bright Silver Emperor cracked open, it attracted the attention of many powers in the Central Region.

It was to the point that rogue cultivators banded together to fight for the treasures, not even thinking about their lives, forcing the elders of the clans and various powers to fight back.

The ensuing battle between those Nascent Soul and Spirit Ascension experts had been so violent that the shockwaves alone had leveled a massive chunk of the Ten Thousand Beasts Mountain Range.

This natural barrier, which had protected the Eastern Region from the horrors of the Vast Wilderness for millennia, was now a gaping wound in the earth—a flattened corridor into the unknown.

At this moment, unknown to the governing bodies of the Eastern Region or the oblivious citizens of its cities, a shadow had crept through that gap.

A group of Barbarians from the lineage of the Burning Giant Tribe had already settled within the ruins of the mountain range, forming a sprawling, primitive camp.

These people were not humans.

They were beings that stood at an average of ten feet tall, their frames dominated by bulging, corded muscles that seemed to ripple like tectonic plates beneath skin the color of dried blood.

Their eyes held a primal, evil glint, and their very breath carried the heavy scent of raw meat and iron.

In the center of this camp, a massive barbarian sat upon a throne carved from a single block of hard grey stone.

He was a colossus among giants, wearing a crown made from the bleached vertebrae of a desert dragon and armor fashioned from overlapping dragon scales that shimmered with a dull, obsidian light.

This was Korgar the Ravager, the chieftain of the Burning Giant Tribe and whose power was said to be at the peak of the Nirvana Rebirth Realm, with physical strength rivaling even that of a Profound Saint Realm experts.

In front of him, the ground was stained red as a group of thirteen humans were tied together with ropes made of monster sinew, forced to kneel in the dirt, with their clothes tattered, and their spirits broken.

At the head of this group, a young man with striking blue hair lay facedown, his body covered in deep lacerations and his breathing coming in wet, ragged gasps.

He was Tang Shan, the former leader of the Ogre Seven.

Three years ago, he had been a rising star, a genius praised by the Cao Yin Kingdom, with a limitless future.

Unfortunately, he was declared a traitor of humanity for taking in a Demonic Beast Incarnation and was almost killed if his father’s clan didn’t come and saved him.

For the past three years, they had managed to evade the genocidal pursuit of the Spirit Hall, which couldn’t exert any effort searching for them because they have already started their campaign to unify the Eastern Region.

Tang Shan had spent years hiding in the crevices of the mountains, hoping to rebuild the Tang Clan in secret so that one day he can take revenge.

But his luck had finally run out when he had stumbled into the Barbarian scouts, and despite the combined strength of the entire Tang Clan, they were so thoroughly defeated and massacred that only thirteen of them remained.

"Are you sure... there are no Saint Rank experts in this place?" Korgar asked, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that vibrated the air in Tang Shan’s lungs.

He spoke the human tongue with a thick, clumsy accent, but the killing intent behind it was perfectly clear.

The Tang Clan members behind Tang Shan nodded desperately, their faces pale with terror.

"Yes! Yes, Great Lord!" one elder cried out, his forehead touching the dirt. "We swear by our souls! The Eastern Region is a desolate place for high-level cultivators! The strongest person we know of is the Sect Master of the Spirit Hall, and she is only at the peak of the Spirit Ascension Realm. There are perhaps only three or four such people in the entire region!"

Korgar the Ravager narrowed his yellow eyes, his thick fingers drumming against the dragon-scale armor on his thigh. "And what about the other Cardinal Regions? The neighbors of this ’Eastern’ land?"

"They aren’t much better, I promise!" another prisoner shrieked. "The Southern Region, our neighbor to the south, is a little bit stronger, but definitely couldn’t be compared to your clan! Their strongest protector is only at the 7th stage of the Nirvana Rebirth Realm, and he is an old man on his deathbed! The Western Region, which is considered the ’strongest’ of the four, only boasts four experts at the peak of Nirvana Rebirth! They have no Saints! No one who can stop a warrior of your stature!"

Korgar frowned, his brow furrowing into deep, fleshy ridges. "How about the Central Region? The heart of the empire?"

The prisoners looked at each other, a flicker of hesitation crossing their eyes.

"We... we don’t know for certain," Tang Shan wheezed, finally finding the strength to lift his head while blood trickled from his mouth as he spoke. "The Central Region is like another world, and they don’t care about us. We are just the ’borderlands’ to them. When Spirit Hall launched a war to unify the Eastern Region, killing tens of millions and erasing entire sects, the Central Region and the Imperial Capital didn’t even bother stopping them. They didn’t even send an observer to check the situation. To them, we probably are just insects fighting for territory in the backyard."

Korgar the Ravager thought for a long moment, the gears of a brutal, opportunistic mind turning.

Finally, a wide, terrifying grin split his face, revealing rows of serrated, yellowing teeth. "Good. That’s good."

He stood up, his ten-foot frame casting a long, oppressive shadow over the kneeling humans as he walked to the edge of the flattened ridge, looking out over the horizon.

Beyond the broken mountains lay the Eastern Region—a vast, fertile land of rolling green hills, winding rivers, and bustling cities filled with millions of unsuspecting souls.

He compared it to the Vast Wilderness he had fled.

Back there, in the true darkness beyond the empire’s reach, the world was a nightmare.

Forests were filled with trees that reached the sky, their leaves so thick they blotted out the sun for thousands of years.

The air was so saturated with corrosive miasma and toxic spores that a single deep breath felt like drinking molten lead.

In the shadows, beasts older than the empire lurked, creatures that fed on souls and flesh.

But the beasts and the environment were not the greatest threat in that place, instead what made the Wilderness a hell were the other intelligent races.

In that dark forest, resources such as spirit stones, uncontaminated water, medicinal herbs, and many others, were incredibly scarce.

Because of that, every tribe, every clan, and every race lived in a state of absolute, perpetual paranoia.

They hid their cities underground or behind layers of masking formations, fearing that if they were noticed by a more powerful force, they would be systematically devoured.

In the Vast Wilderness, the Law of the Dark Forest was the only rule that matter; killing those who made themselves known and take their resources before they can kill you and take your resources.

In other words; Do unto others, before others do unto you.

This merciless slaughter and plundering happens because power could grow without clear limits; a child born today could become a god-slayer tomorrow.

Therefore, every race behaved like a hunter in a pitch-black forest—silent, armed, and terrified.

If you found another tribe, you shouldn’t think of sending an envoy, but must send an army and strike them first, and you must strike with the determination to exterminate.

Diplomacy was a fairy tale for the weak.

This is because intentions were unknowable, and there was no way to verify a neighbor’s long-term motives.

A weak race you spared today could produce a heaven-defying genius in a decade, and then your own tribe would be the one facing the threat of extinction.

Trust had no foundation, so preemptive genocide was the only rational strategy.

The side that attacked first, using concealed karmic curses, poison Qi, or hidden formations, won decisively.

Their history also reinforced this: every surviving tribe in the Wilderness was the descendant of the most ruthless, most paranoid ancestors.

Those who were loud, proud, or trusting had long ago been erased from the annals of time.

Korgar looked back at the fertile Eastern Region.

Here, the people were "civilized."

They built cities out of wood and stone instead of bones of the defeated.

They traded, they argued in courts, and they believed in "laws."

In other words, they were soft, having lived in comfort for thousands of years and never having to fight tooth and nail for survival.

To a hunter from the Dark Forest, this land wasn’t an empire; it was a banquet.

"This land," Korgar muttered, his eyes glowing with greed. "Filled with people with weak wills and even weaker strength. It is a gift from the Primal Ancestors."

He turned to his warriors, who were already sharpening their sharp axes and preparing their war-beasts. "The Cardinal Regions are ours. We will feast on their spirits and use their ’civilization’ as the foundation for our rise. If the Central Region does not care for their borderlands, then we shall take them as our own."

The leader’s grin widened, the dragon-bone crown on his head seeming to pulse with a dark, anticipatory light.

The hunt had moved from the shadows into the light, and the Eastern Region had no idea that the predators had already arrived.