Dual Cultivation: Omnipotent Villain with Reader System!-Chapter 67: Sister’s dilemma, aunt’s honor.

The two ethereal birds dissolved into motes of light, returning to the void from where they came. Tianmo stood up, his robes shimmering with the shimmering energy with aura of profound enlightenment.

He had finally understood the mechanism of Fortune Lux—the invisible frequency that dictated the flow of causality. In order to kill the chosen son of destiny, you must outshine their self-concept and only then can you win over them. However, somehow even if you kill them, the heavenly Dao will retaliate because it isn’t a being.

"System... Check the frequency of my Ohmm vibration, can I kill the protagonists easily now?!"

[Ding!]

[Error 106]

[Host. Your Ohmm vibration is extremely rapid. It can’t be counted, due to your True Primordial Bloodline.]

True primordial bloodline!?

"System, explain more."

[Ding!]

[Host, assume the world is a simulation or a game. The True Primordial aren’t part of the system rather the creators, that can’t be measured. So, you can freely kill the chosen son of destiny. Furthermore, because of your formless Immortal-grade spirit root the heavenly mechanic can’t do anything, because you can absorb all pure forms of energy.]

Ooh!

The monk thinks once, nods twice.

He understood it crystal clear. So, he isn’t affected by Fortune Lux because of his True Primordial Bloodline, given that, it can’t be measured or calculated.

Good. He doesn’t have to worry about killing protagonists anymore. Chosen son of destiny!? Hmph, merely a stepping stone. They should do themselves a favor and oil up.

He stepped out of the private world, the sensation of the void dissolving into the familiar, heavy air of the Wang estate. Obviously, he had made sure to conceal his breath.

The Wang Family had changed within 2 days.

The main hall was no longer the sanctuary of power it had been. The air was stale, thick with the scent of incense generally burned for the dead ones.

Tianmo soon learned from Aunt Ningxue, clad in a white robe of a widow, that Elder Gu had killed Madam Feng and Elder Wang for trying to sell him out.

’That old man... He clearly bullies the weak and fears the strongest, somehow, that man was behind the reason the formation was broken that day.’ Tianmo had a nonchalant face yet, deep inside he had a cold, calculated smirk.

What fine pawns, they don’t need to be ordered, they are fully capable of committing the logic thing with ultimate benefit for the long term.

It seems even Elder Wang Bo was killed by Zhang because, that day, Elder Bo failed to complete his mission and lied about it, a clear act of rebellion.

"Aunt... It’s all your fault, if it wasn’t for you, I might not have ended up in this situation, I hope you will honor your words," he uttered, while he was thinking of what to do ahead.

With opposition dead, the family was somewhat stabilized. But, the one who was the biggest threat to his family, the Tang Clan, was still active.

"Y-Yes... Auntie shall honor her words, let me fulfill the ritual first, he was still her husband when he died," she but her lips, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a mix of shame and desperate longing. She stepped forward, her soft, curvaceous body trembling.

Tianmo thought for a moment and decided to let her complete the ritual. "Is Ling’er back yet, or is she still in heaven-grade cave?!"

"S-She... She has returned but she is in her chambers, refusing to talk to anyone. She is just staring at the wall, weeping silently," Aunt Ningxue replied, her voice barely a whisper. She lowered her gaze, her hands clasping together nervously. "Nephew... Is it truly true? Did you really... possess the All-Refining Devil Fire? Is that why the heavens are against us?"

Tianmo remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. The truth was a dangerous thing. If he told her the full extent of his nature, she might break. But he also knew that in the cultivation world, ignorance was a luxury the weak could not afford.

"Whether it is true or not matters little," Tianmo said, his voice calm and devoid of emotion. "What matters is that I am still alive, and the Wang Family is still standing. As for the ritual... Aunt Ningxue, you have been a loyal aunt to the family. I will not forget that."

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart pounding in her chest. He had no intention of discussing the matters with her further. It was a waste of time and energy. He needed to focus on his cultivation and the looming threat of the Tang Clan.

***

Tianmo walked through the corridors of the Wang estate, his footsteps silent. He could feel the gaze of the family servants on him, a mix of fear, awe, and suspicion.

He didn’t hesitate... He killed them instantly. There is no certainty that they won’t reveal his location. It’s better to kill them. The most dangerous place is still the safest place, they will likely search somewhere else completely unaware, Tianmo is already at his own Wang estate.

"Arghhh!"

"Arghh!"

Screams could be heard yet, there wasn’t a hint of empathy in Tianmo’s eyes.

He soon arrived at the rear quarters, generally the place for unmarried women and the kitchen, at the door to his sister’s quarters.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

The voice was soft, trembling, yet laced with a sharp, poisonous edge that made the surrounding air turn frigid.

Tianmo pushed the door open.

..

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by a single flickering candle. Wang Ling’er sat on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She wore a white nightgown that was slightly too large for her, the fabric clinging to her slender frame.

Her hair was loose, cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink. Her face was pale, her lips bloodless, and her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen from crying.

She looked like a delicate porcelain doll that had been shattered and hastily glued back together.

Tianmo walked in and closed the door, sealing the sound of the outside world away.

"Ling’er." His voice was low, devoid of the coldness, he usually displayed.

Ling’er’s body tensed instantly. She slowly turned her head, her eyes locking onto him. The moment she saw his face, her expression twisted into happiness and despair, a war of emotions warring within her.

Her body trembled violently, a soft, broken sob escaping her lips as she threw herself against him. Her arms wrapped around his waist with a desperate, bruising force, her nails digging into his robes as if she were trying to anchor herself to the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

"Brother... Brother Tianmo... Are you... are you really going to die?"

Her voice was muffled against his chest, hot and wet against the fabric. She smelled of the lingering scent of rain and the faint, sweet fragrance of her water spirit root—a scent that usually calmed the mind but now seemed to scream of chaotic emotions. But its understandable as

Tianmo didn’t push her away. Instead, he raised a hand and gently stroked her hair, his fingers threading through the dark strands. His touch was calm.

"Die?" He repeated the word, his voice low and smooth like a river flowing over smooth stones. "Do you think the heavens are cruel enough to take me so soon, little sister?"

Ling’er lifted her head, her tear-stained face inches from his. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen, yet burning with a fierce, possessive fire that defied her fragile appearance.

She looked at him with a gaze that was equal parts love and hunger, a Yandere’s devotion twisted by the taboo of their bloodline.

"You are different now compared to before..." she muttered, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. Her touch was reverent, worshipping. "You are cold and terrifying... but you are mine. You belong to me. If anyone else tries to touch you, if anyone else tries to take you... I will kill them."

Her thumb traced the line of his jaw, her eyes darkening with a sudden, intense jealousy. Even though the other women were ahead, the mere thought of them touching him was a poison in her veins. She needed to be the one who could feel his heat, the only one who could bear his weight.