Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 61: Ning Clan

Seven Treasure City, the city owned by the Ning Clan.

At this moment, the atmosphere within the grand hall of the Ning Clan was shrouded with a tension so palpable it felt as though the very air had turned into lead.

High atop the mahogany dais, Patriarch Ning Xiao sat upon his seat of authority, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests.

His face was wrinkled, as if they have been carved with the weight of leadership and the brewing storm of a continental conflict.

To his left and right stood the twin pillars of the Ning Clan’s martial might—two men whose names were whispered with reverence and terror throughout the Eastern Region.

The first was the Sword Saint, known simply as Old Jian. He stood as straight as the blade he carried, his aura sharp enough to pierce the skin of any lesser cultivator who dared to look him in the eye.

As a 6th Stage Spirit Ascension Realm expert, he was a living disaster, a man who could cleave mountains with a flick of his wrist.

Beside him stood the Bone Dragon, Old Hu, a 5th Stage Spirit Ascension Realm expert whose body seemed to hum with the primal, skeletal power of ancient drakes.

His presence felt heavy, oppressive, and suffocating, as if standing near him could suck the air out of your lungs.

In front of them stood three figures draped in the most exquisite silks and furs the Eastern Region could provide.

These were the Kings of the Big 3—the three strongest and largest kingdoms in the region and they were also the leader of the Allied Forces, the desperate coalition formed to halt the relentless expansion of the Spirit Hall.

"Patriarch Ning, I’m sure you know why we came here for, right?" the King of the Azure Sun Kingdom spoke, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling.

Ning Xiao knew. Of course, he knew. He could see the desperation hidden behind their regal facades like cracks in a porcelain mask.

They had come to beg, though they dressed it in the language of diplomacy, after all, the power of the Spirit Hall had grown beyond anyone’s darkest expectations.

Their armies were disciplined, their experts were numerous, and their ambition was absolute.

Even with the combined strength of the Big 3 and several of the Seven Great Clans, the Allied Forces were barely holding their ground, trading lives for inches in a war of attrition they were destined to lose.

To even the odds, they needed the Support of the Ning Clan.

The Ning Clan’s Spirit was the ultimate force multiplier, and could really turn the tide of war.

A single Ning disciple could boost the speed, strength, and Qi capacity of multiple combatants simultaneously, so in a war of this scale, the Ning Clan was not just an ally; they were the difference between a crushing defeat and a miraculous stalemate.

As for victory?

That requires more than miracle.

"Your majesties..." Ning Xiao finally spoke, his voice low and resonant as he stared at them straight in the eye, "We, the Ning Clan, have already expressed our intention to remain neutral. We will not participate in this war. Our disciples have almost little to no combat power, going to war would simply be sending them to their graves."

The King of the Iron Blood Kingdom slammed his fist onto a nearby table, the wood splintering under the force of his frustration. "Patriarch Ning, we personally came to ask you! We, the rulers of millions, have lowered ourselves to stand in your hall! Are you still doubting our sincerity!?"

"The Spirit Hall has already shown their fangs!" the King of Yellow Jade Kingdom added, his eyes narrowed. "They have burned academies and assimilated sects! Do you truly think they will spare your Ning Clan next? Once we fall, you are merely the final dessert on their plate! You have no choice but to ally with us! Neutrality is a fantasy for the dead!"

Ning Xiao stared at them, his eyes distant.

Two years ago, he might’ve agreed to this, in fact, he almost certainly would have.

After all, two years ago, the rise of the Spirit Hall kept him awake at night, and the fear of a unified Eastern Region under a single, tyrannical banner was a shadow that haunted his every decision.

But the world had changed in ways these Kings could not possibly comprehend.

His daughter, Ning Xueli, was no longer just the pampered princess of a regional clan, instead, she was now currently receiving the inheritance of a Supreme Emperor, a legacy that transcended the petty squabbles of the Eastern Region.

Furthermore, she would soon accompany Haoran to the Central Region—a place where the "Big 3" were nothing more than backwater villages in comparison.

The fate of the Eastern Region, and whoever ultimately sat on its blood-stained throne, meant nothing to the Ning Clan now.

For them now, they were looking at the stars while these men were still fighting over handfuls of dirt.

That’s why...

"Forgive me, your majesties," Ning Xiao said, his posture relaxing into a state of absolute certainty. "My answer remains the same. The Ning Clan will not draw its sword, nor will it offer its light to your cause."

Silence fell over the room—a silence so profound it was deafening.

The three Kings looked at one another, their expressions shifting from indignation to a cold, dark resolve that chilled the air.

Until finally, the King of the Azure Sun began to laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of humor, but a mocking, jagged sound that grated against the ears.

"Hahaha... Ning Xiao," he said, his eyes glowing with an ominous light. "I hope you don’t regret this choice. Truly, I do."

Ning Xiao frowned, his instincts screaming of a trap. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Before the King could answer, the heavy double doors of the hall were thrown open with a violent crash as a Ning Clan disciple barged into the room, his robes torn and his face pale with terror.

He didn’t even stop to bow, instead sliding across the floor as he dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

"Patriarch! Emergency!" the disciple wailed, his voice cracking. "Our clan! Our city! We are surrounded! There are... there are more than a million troops at our gates!"

"What!?" Ning Xiao stood up in shock, his chair toppling backward.

The Sword Saint and the Bone Dragon stepped forward instantly, their auras erupting like volcanoes, shaking the very foundations of the manor.

Ning Xiao whirled toward the three Kings, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and fury. "What is the meaning of this, your majesties!? You dare bring an army to my doorstep while negotiating under a flag of peace!?"

The King of the Iron Blood Kingdom didn’t flinch. Instead, he straightened his robes, looking at Ning Xiao with utter contempt. "Ning Xiao, mind your tone. We are Kings! We do not negotiate with those who would see our kingdoms fall through their own cowardice."

"That’s right," the Azure Sun King sneered. "This is merely reaping what you have sown! None of this would’ve happened if you had obediently joined us. If you will not be our shield, then you are an obstacle that must be cleared so your resources can be seized for the greater good."

Ning Xiao gritted his teeth, his Qi beginning to flare in golden ripples. "You fools! Do you realize what you are doing? Aren’t you afraid that you’ll push us to side with the Spirit Hall out of spite!?"

"You won’t have the chance," the King of Yellow Jade Kingdom whispered, his form beginning to shimmer and blur. "We’ll make sure of it. By tomorrow morning, the Ning Clan will be a footnote in history, and your wealth and resources... don’t worry, we will put them to good use."

"Bastards! Old Jian!" Ning Xiao roared.

Old Jian didn’t need further commands as he was already in motion, and a silver sword, thin as a needle and glowing with the light of a dying star, materialised in his hand.

In a blur of motion that bypassed the laws of physics, he appeared before the three Kings and swept his blade in a horizontal arc, intending to sever their heads in a single strike.

However, as the blade passed through their necks, there was no resistance, nor were there blood sprayed, instead, the bodies of the three Kings simply dissipated into blue motes of light, like mist caught in a strong wind.

"A projection!?" Old Jian’s eyes widened, his sword vibrating with unspent energy.

To project an image so lifelike that even a Spirit Ascension expert didn’t immediately detect it required a top-tier formation or a specialized treasure.

Ning Xiao’s face went pale. They had been played, while they were talking, the noose was being tightened. "Old Jian, Old Hu, let’s go out and see the situation. They wouldn’t dare claim a million troops unless they were prepared to back it up."

The two old experts nodded solemnly, their expressions grimmer than they had been in decades.

They followed Ning Xiao as they sprinted out of the main manor, leaping across the rooftops of the inner estate until they reached the massive, reinforced walls of the Seven Treasure City.

As they reached the ramparts and looked out, even the stoic Bone Dragon let out a sharp intake of breath.

The horizon was gone, and in its place was a sea of steel and flickering torchlight as hundreds of thousands—no, the disciple was right—it looked like over a million Cultivators were gathered in perfectly disciplined squares.

The majority were at the Qi Gathering and Foundation Establishment stages, the foot soldiers of the great kingdoms, but their sheer numbers made the earth tremble.

Mixed amongst the masses were the glittering armors of Core Formation commanders, the imposing silhouettes of Golden Core generals, and the oppressive, floating presences of Nascent Soul elders.

And at the very front, suspended in the air like dark omens, were two Spirit Ascension Realm experts leading the vanguard, their auras clashing against the Ning Clan’s city wards like waves against a cliff.

"The Allied Kingdoms..." Ning Xiao whispered, his heart sinking into his stomach. "Instead of using this army for something useful, they wanted to use it on us!? How utterly foolish!"

But even so, the air grew cold as the realization set in.

The Ning Clan, the greatest support clan in the region, was now the target of the very people they were meant to protect.

Despite being one of the Seven Great Clans, they cannot withstand the combined might of the kingdoms.

Now, the survival of the clan hung by a single, fraying thread.