Villain Seduces to Rise in Status

Heavy smoke rose around a particular mountain as a figure in green robes descended through the air, leaving trails of ethereal smoke in his wake. Wang Yunfeng’s robes fluttered around him as he descended with an air of authority.

Tens of people immediately appeared on the ground below, all dropping to their knees in unison.

"Greetings! Vice Patriarch!" they called out synchronized.

Wang Yunfeng merely waved his hand dismissively, his eyes scanning the gathered cultivators until they fixed on one man in particular.

"Did you get that woman? The so-called princess of that small kingdom?" he asked.

The man trembled, sweat beading on his forehead.

"I-I am... forgive me, my lord! I couldn’t finish this task. If you give me one more chance—"

His words were cut off by a blade.

Liushen smiled as he beheaded the failed cultivator with one fluid motion, then crouched down to clean his blade on the dead man’s robes.

Wang Yunfeng didn’t even bat an eye at the execution. Such was the way of power — failure was death, and death was simply the price of inadequacy.

Liushen had joined Wang Yunfeng’s expedition after learning that Cale had killed his father’s right-hand man and stolen his items.

The rage had been immense, the desire for vengeance. But when he discovered that Cale and Fiora were connected, his strategic mind had recognized an opportunity.

Having a son of the Blood Emperor as an ally was worth far more for Wang Yunfeng.

And if Cale did kill Liushen, well, that would create another powerful enemy for him anyway. Better to coordinate their efforts.

Wang Yunfeng had been pleased by the arrangement.

More power, resources and cultivators under his command. All heading toward one goal: claiming the Purple Lotus Sect’s inheritance and eliminating the one cultivator who’d dared defy the Wang Family’s dominion.

When they arrived at the Purple Lotus Sect’s gates, the scene was already one of chaos.

Fiora, Rexa, and Emma stood with their group, along with roughly a thousand other cultivators, all staring at massive gates sealed by an incredibly complex array formation. One wrong move, and the entire gate would detonate with enough force to obliterate everyone nearby.

Fiora turned to Elon, her expression one of barely contained concern.

"Did anyone of you see him here? He did say he would return in a day or two, but it’s been five days now," she asked, her voice deliberately calm despite the anxiety underneath.

Elon sighed heavily, clearly frustrated with himself.

"Forgive me, Princess Fiora. We couldn’t find him either. We’ve searched extensively, but—"

Rexa’s eyes narrowed with sudden understanding, her lips curling into a faint smile.

"I can pretty much guess what is going on... Young master is with Niva. So..." she trailed off.

Emma’s head snapped toward her, her eyes widening before she began to laugh.

"You mean... haha, seriously that guy! If that really happened..."

But their conversation was cut short by screams.

"Wahhh! Who... who are you people!"

"Ahh no!"

"What are these people doing!"

Fiora’s eyes widened as she looked to the side, immediately understanding the new threat.

A massive group of cultivators wearing the distinctive green robes of the Wang Clan was attacking- not just Fiora’s group, but everyone indiscriminately. They were cutting through the crowd like reapers through wheat, showing no discrimination between factions.

"Is it them?" Fiora breathed.

But the Wang Clan members didn’t stop at just attacking one group. They slaughtered anyone who stood in their way, and who might compete for the inheritance.

"Arghh! They don’t want us to take the inheritance!"

"This clan is full of murderers!"

"Argh! Save me!"

"Help!"

Wails of agony echoed across the plaza as hundreds of Wang Clan elders and Apex Stage members began their elimination of the competition. It was a massacre dressed up as a battle.

Fiora immediately ordered a retreat, leading her group toward the rear of the crowd where they could attempt evacuation if necessary. Running directly into the Wang Clan’s assault would be suicide.

Half an hour later, the doors to the Purple Lotus Sect suddenly opened of their own accord.

People surged forward immediately, desperate to escape the carnage outside.

"Hey! Look, it’s open!"

"L-let’s go away from here!"

"I doubt we can even stay alive here if we don’t move!"

The Wang Clan members entered as well, their predatory advance continuing into the sect’s interior.

Wang Yunfeng and Liushen ascended to the roof of a two-story pagoda-style building, settling onto the structure to survey the scene below.

For an hour, an uneasy silence fell over the Purple Lotus Sect’s interior. Nobody dared explore further, nobody dared move aggressively.

They all understood the reality; if anyone made a move toward claiming the inheritance, everyone else would pounce simultaneously, turning the entire sect into a bloodbath where no single faction could emerge victorious.

It was a standoff born of mutual assured destruction.

Wang Yunfeng sat calmly, smoking from an ornate pipe, when a smile suddenly crept across his face.

"Heh, would you look at that," he murmured, his divine consciousness stretching outward to detect a familiar presence. "Speak of the devil and he’s here."

He could sense Cale — hidden, attempting to mask his aura, but nearby nonetheless. Within ten kilometers of his current position.

Wang Yunfeng stood, readying himself.

Fifty meters above the land, standing atop a platform of solid earth he’d formed himself, Cale raised Noxis into the air. Niva waited below, watching from a safe distance as he prepared for something.

The sword in his hand blazed with chaos flames, every one of his intents mixing together in brilliant display — chaos, destruction, nihility, all converging in the blade’s edge.

He closed his eyes.

"Spring gives birth to Summer..." his voice carried across the empty space between him and Wang Yunfeng, resonating with power.

He opened his eyes.

"Spring is the most fluid form. What is cut down today will bloom again tomorrow."

Noxis blazed more vibrantly as he began to move.

"Summer fades into Autumn..."

He slowly drew a line through the air—not with physical motion, but with pure intent. It appeared as a black tear in reality itself, an air slash filled with intent and chaos energy. It hung suspended in mid-air, lightning crackling around its edges.

"Summer is the opposite of Spring. When the sun reaches its peak, nothing remains beneath it..."

His energy exploded outward like a burning sun, the slash pulsing with fire so intense it seemed to distort the very fabric of space.

"Autumn descends into Winter..."

He drew another slash, this one horizontal—like a master calligrapher executing a perfect stroke. The movement was slow, elegant and deliberate. He took his time, perfecting each gesture while his enemy below remained unaware of the wave of destruction being constructed above them.

"Autumn represents change, like how a leaf never falls the same way twice..."

The two slashes began to merge in the air, forming a perfect cross. Cale’s movements became increasingly complex; his rhythm changing constantly, his angles shifting, his speed varying unpredictably.

His sword movements resembled falling leaves, appearing random at first glance, yet following an invisible, perfect flow. This was autumn’s nature — chaos within order, destruction within beauty.

"Winter gives birth to Spring..."

He pierced the center where both lines intersected, driving his sword through the meeting point and filling it with concentrated ink-black energy. The cross began to glow with accumulated power.

Winter was the most terrifying form.

Instead of becoming faster, Cale became completely still.

His movements became minimal, perfected. His breathing slowed to a meditation’s pace. His sword stopped wasting even the smallest fraction of energy.

"When winter arrives, everything eventually becomes still... and stillness doesn’t mean death... it’s just another phase..."

He took a single step back, raising his sword again. The cross suspended before him blazed with his intent, growing brighter, more solid, more absolutely real with each passing moment.

"And the cycle never ends... but I will become the chaos who disrupts this order, and plays with heaven’s will itself..."

He slashed his sword downward.

Another air slash erupted from the blade — filled with intent, filled with chaos, filled with the accumulated power of the entire Four Seasons technique compressed into a single, devastating strike.

The slash pushed the previous cross forward at full speed; a projectile of destruction hurtling toward where Wang Yunfeng stood.

First it appeared as a small dot.

Then it expanded into a small cross.

Then it grew massive, an enormous cross strong enough to annihilate a mountain, strong enough to level a kingdom, strong enough to challenge even a Emperor Stage cultivator’s defenses.

The air itself screamed as it approached.

Reality seemed to tear open before it.

And Wang Yunfeng’s eyes finally widened with alarm as he recognized the scale of the attack descending upon him.