Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Shen Clan.

The Grand Hall’s celebratory echoes had long since faded into the background of the sprawling Shen Clan Domain, replaced by the rhythmic, peaceful lapping of the lake’s crystalline waters against the pillars of the kiosk.

For Xia Mengyao, however, the silence was anything but peaceful.

She sat on the same white sandalwood bench where she had sat just a few nights prior, staring blankly at the exquisite delicacies arranged on her plate.

The food was the work of a master Gourmet Hunter, designed to invigorate the spirit and delight the senses, but to her, it tasted like ash.

She let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped in a way she would never allow in the presence of her disciples.

It had been several days since the Heavenly Tribulation, the Shen Clan Heaven’s Choice Tournament, and the events that followed in this very kiosk.

No matter how many times she tried to meditate, no matter how many sword forms she practiced to exhaust her body, she still couldn’t get it out of her head.

The feeling of Haoran’s hands, the intensity of his golden gaze, and the way the world seemed to shrink until only the three of them existed in that space—it was a haunting melody she couldn’t stop humming.

"I actually...did that... I want to die..."

Although she often dressed in the male uniform of the Flower Mountain Sect and lived the life of a warrior, that didn’t mean she was a tomboy by choice, or that she harbored feelings for women.

She didn’t like girls at all!

She was as straight as the edge of her own blade!

But that night... she had gotten so caught up in the overwhelming momentum of the moment that she had participated, and her own curiosity got the better of her that she lost her mind and did...that.

"Sister Mengyao, aren’t you going to eat? You’ve been poking that spirit venison for ten minutes."

The sudden voice made Mengyao flinch, her hand jerking as she nearly dropped her chopsticks as without realising it, Luo Mingye sat down beside her, looking as vibrant and unbothered as ever.

She held a plate piled high with colorful skewers and steamed buns. "These are very delicious, I tell you. The Shen Clan really doesn’t hold back when it comes to their pantries."

Mengyao straightened her back, her face flushing as she raised a stern finger at her friend. "Mingye. We need to establish a boundary here. You must forget that night. Entirely. It was a lapse in judgment, a statistical anomaly caused by the stress of the lightning. It was a one-time thing, and it will never happen again. Do you understand?"

Mingye blinked, a piece of meat halfway to her mouth as she stared at Mengyao for a beat, then let out a soft, knowing chuckle. "Oh? Is that what you’re thinking about? Come on, Sister Mengyao, give me some credit. I know you, and I don’t like girls either, after all my heart is firmly set on the Young Master. Besides, I’ve known you since we were children. Do you really think I don’t know what you are truly like under that rough exterior? You little princess wannabe."

Xia Mengyao paused, her cheek twitching in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment as she opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but the words died in her throat.

Because she knew Mingye was right.

Indeed.

To the outside world, Xia Mengyao was the Sword Prodigy of the Flower Mountain Sect.

She dressed as a man, she spoke with the cold authority of a commander, and she swung a sword with a ferocity that made men twice her size tremble.

Some of the junior sisters in the sect called her "Senior Brother" in secret, or whispered that she was more manly than the actual male disciples.

But deep down, in the quietest corners of her soul, she never wanted any of that.

She didn’t want the calluses on her palms or the scars on her shoulders.

She wanted to be just a kind, simple girl.

She wanted to be the one held in the arms of someone she liked, tucked away from the storms of the cultivation world.

But she knew that she couldn’t have those, after all, she had been adopted by the Sect Master of the Flower Mountain Sect while she was a starving orphan, scavenging for scraps on the freezing streets of a border town.

The Sect Master had seen the untapped potential hidden inside her and had taken her in, saving her from cold and hunger.

But that also came with a heavy expectation: that she would grow into a pillar of strength, a guardian who could support the sect’s waning prestige in the future.

To repay that life-saving grace, Mengyao had buried the girl she wanted to be.

She trained until her muscles screamed and her hands bled, and she took up the sword not out of love for the blade, but out of a sense of crushing debt.

She would protect the sect with her life, because her life belonged to the Sect Master.

But deep down?

She didn’t want to hold a sword, instead, she wanted to hold a fan or a piece of fine embroidery.

She didn’t want to study tactical maneuvers; she wanted to play music, host elegant tea parties, and dance in moonlit balls.

She didn’t want to wear the rough, functional fabric of a Cultivator’s uniform; she wanted to wear heavy, silk dresses that trailed behind her like a sunset, walking with elegance through a palace made of jade.

She wanted to wear makeup.

She wanted to let her hair grow long, to style it with silver pins and fragrant blossoms.

She wanted to be praised for her beauty, her grace, and her gentle nature, rather than the "sharpness" of her strike or the "coldness" of her heart.

But... she couldn’t have that.

To survive in the sect, she had to train day and night, swinging her sword ten thousand times before breakfast.

She had to wear the male uniform because the flowing skirts of a girl were a liability in a duel.

She had to cut her hair short because long hair was a weakness an opponent could exploit.

She even had to bind her chest, wrapping herself in tight bandages because her developing body was a "pain" to manage during intense combat.

However, she was still hoping, that maybe, just maybe, one day, she can be the girl that she always wanted to be.

But even that was taken from her.

She remembered the day the new disciples had entered the sect a few years ago, and she had been assigned to greet them as the Senior Disciple.

As she walked past a group of boys, she had heard one of them whisper in a confused tone, "Wait, that’s a girl? No way!"

In that moment, she had realized that the girl she wanted to become now only existed in her dreams, because the world saw a warrior, and she had been forced to become one.

"Here." Luo Mingye offered a succulent meat skewer, breaking Mengyao’s train of thought. "Don’t think about it so much, Sister Mengyao. Isn’t your dream, the one you used to whisper about when we were kids, actually starting to happen right now?"

Xia Mengyao grabbed the skewer, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? What dream?"

"I know you," Mingye said, her voice turning soft and uncharacteristically serious. "You wanted to be protected, you wanted to be the princess being saved by a prince from the legends, but the problem was that you were always too strong. You were stronger than your peers, stronger than the boys who tried to court you, and as you grew, that gap only widened. So instead of being the one protected, you became the one protecting everyone else. You became the shield, the one they relied on, the ’Senior Sister’ who had no weaknesses."

Mengyao remained silent, her gaze dropping to the lake as the weight of Mingye’s words felt like a physical pressure.

"But it’s different now," Luo Mingye said, standing up and smoothing her dress, a bright smile returning to her face. "Young Master Haoran is strong, no, he isn’t just strong, he is a monster. He’s significantly stronger than you, and he’s definitely the first person you’ve ever met who can look at your sword and not see a threat, but just a simple toy. Isn’t that what you always dreamed of? Someone you don’t have to protect? Someone who makes you feel like the fragile one?"

Xia Mengyao looked away, her heart racing. "No. Even though I did that... That night... it was a one-time thing. I told you. I never felt anything about him beyond respect."

"Don’t lie to me, Sister Mengyao. You wouldn’t have stayed in that kiosk, and you certainly wouldn’t have ’participated’ the way you did, if you didn’t feel a spark," Luo Mingye said, her eyes teasing. "That large back that stood against the lightning... that golden light that seemed to swallow the darkness... that overwhelming strength that made the Heavens themselves retreat... It stole your heart, didn’t it? You finally found your Prince, and he just happens to be a tyrant."

"That was... it was just a physical reaction to the spiritual pressure!" Mengyao tried to make an excuse, but even she knew her voice lacked conviction.

Mingye just laughed. "Sure it was. Anyway, get ready. The seven day feast is about to end, and our elders are already calling us back. So we should probably say our goodbyes."

As Mingye walked away, Xia Mengyao touched her short hair, a strange, terrifyingly beautiful hope blooming in her chest.

For the first time in her life, she wondered if she could finally put the sword down.