Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 97: Troupes

The afternoon sun of the Saint Burial Realm hung heavy and stagnant over Fragrant Flower City, like a dull orb of bruised gold filtering through the world’s thick, impure atmosphere.

In the inner courtyard of the Ling Clan, the air was unnaturally still as Shen Haoran sat within a jade-carved pavilion, his posture one of effortless, aristocratic grace.

He sipped a fresh cup of spirit tea, the steam curling around his face like a silver mist.

Behind him stood Qing’er.

She had fully recovered from the soul-scorching dark gold lightning sent by the heavenly dao, and her aura now as calm and lethal as a deep, moonless lake.

Her black bodysuit hummed with a subtle, dark resonance, her red eyes scanning the perimeter with a vigilance that made the very air feel sharp.

They were in no hurry to make a move.

Despite the Golden Cloud elder’s desperate escape with the charred remains of Jiang Chen, Haoran hadn’t ordered an immediate pursuit.

After all, he knew the "Protagonist Template" better than anyone in this lower realm.

If he give chase now, the world will only throw more coincidences in his path to delay him.

But based on the usual tropes of these Anomalies, the ’Starter Village’ always hides a series of ’trash’ treasures or forgotten inheritances.

These are the seeds of their rise, and if he leaves now to hunt the rabbit, then he will leave the burrow full of carrots.

It’s better to strip the land bare first.

In fact, Haoran could already predict the unhindered trajectory of Jiang Chen’s life if left to the whims of fate.

The boy would show off his newfound "genius" in this city, humiliate some local young masters, move to a larger provincial capital, get underestimated again, find an ancient tomb, inherit some ancient legacies, show off and slap everyone in the face, before moving to another much bigger map.

Rinse and repeat.

So, before he leaves this continent, he will fiest empty it.

He will take every ’chance’ and every ’luck’ the heavens intended for its own protagonist.

"Young master..."

The silence of the courtyard was broken by the arrival of Ling Luochen.

The pink-haired girl walked toward the pavilion with a measured pace, her red eyes showing a mix of reverence and a newly awakened, cold ambition.

She stopped at the edge of the shade and bowed deeply, her black robes rustling against the stone.

"Is there any news?" Haoran asked, not looking up from his tea.

Ling Luochen shook her head, her expression stoic. "None regarding the whereabouts of the Jiang remnants, Young Master. They have vanished into the spatial folds of the Northern Continent. However, acting on your orders to scour the local markets and hidden vaults, we did manage to retrieve some... ’useless’ items from the grand auction house’s discard pile."

She reached into her storage ring and pulled out three objects, placing them onto the stone table with a sense of doubt.

The first was a small, fist-size, ugly piece of grey rock that pulsed with an indecipherable, muddy aura.

The second was a heavily rusted, pitted spear-tip, snapped at the base with no shaft in sight.

The third was a torn, yellowed piece of parchment that looked as though it would crumble into dust if a stiff breeze hit it.

Haoran waved his hand casually, and a sliver of invisible Qi caught the items, lifting them into the air to hover at eye level.

He first grabbed the grey rock, his fingers tracing the rough exterior as he observed it.

He was no treasurer appraisal, but as someone who dabbled into the arts of seers, seeing through the true worth of some item is relatively easy.

Just like now, where he saw the calcified shell of a divine remain.

He blinked, and once again observed carefully, and in that instant, he noticed a faint, skeletal curvature deep within the stone—a piece of a finger-bone.

CRACK.

Haoran clenched his fist, and the grey stone shattered instantly, turning into fine sand that slipped through his fingers.

Remaining in his palm was a single forefinger bone, glowing with a translucent, diamond-like luster.

It felt heavier than a mountain, radiating a sensation of absolute, unyielding density as Haoran raised a sharp eyebrow, a glint of genuine interest appearing in his golden eyes. "This bone... it carries the conceptual imprint of the Unbreakable Diamond Sacred Technique, doesn’t it? This is a lost body cultivation technique from the era of the Primordial Saints. If I can study the marrow-residue within this bone, I might be able to recreate the entire scripture."

The Unbreakable Diamond Sacred Technique was a legend among body cultivators.

It was said that those who mastered it to the stage of "Perfect Integration" could turn their physical form into something as indestructible as a cosmic diamond.

Even a Heavenly Saint, standing a half-step into the Supreme Realm, would find it nearly impossible to draw blood from a practitioner of this art.

In the hands of a protagonist like Jiang Chen, this would have been the foundation of his "immortality."

After all, if he paired this with his physique, he will really be indestructible.

But now, it was just another trophy in Haoran’s collection.

With a flick of his wrist, he stored the bone in his storage space before turning his attention to the rusted spear-tip, and it honestly looked like junk—a worthless iron fit for a scrap heap.

Haoran snapped his fingers and a tiny, pin-prick flame erupted on his fingertip—the Gold Incinerating Supreme Flame.

It was a fire that could melt the stars, ranked fourth in the Heavenly Flame rankings, although it was just a small ember given to him by the clan.

He brought the flame close to the rusted metal, and the moment the heat touched it, the "rust"—which was actually a high-level spatial seal disguised as oxidation—was incinerated.

The dull brown flakes vanished, revealing a spear-tip made of a strange, swirling silver-blue metal that seemed to hum with the sound of a thousand battles.

Haoran observed it, but couldn’t really find out just how powerful this thing is. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"...Qing’er, what do you think?" Haoran asked, passing the blade to her.

Qing’er took the tip, her fingers sensing the terrifying sharpness that threatened to cut even her Saint-level skin, but she ignored it as she observed the runes etched into the metal and replied, "A piece of a Rank 10 Saint Grade Artifact, Young Master... no, looking at the internal structure, it actually possessed a trace of Imperial Law, so this was likely part of a Supreme Artifact before it was shattered in the Saint War."

"Heh, as expected of an anomaly’s luck," Haoran chuckled, his voice low. "Even in a trash-heap like this city, the world hides the shards of gods for its favorites. A pity it found me instead."

He stored the spear-tip away alongside the bone.

Finally, he turned his gaze toward the last item: the torn piece of paper.

He squinted, trying to read the faded lines. It looked like a map, but the geography was distorted, showing landmasses that didn’t correspond to any of the five continents of the Saint Burial Realm.

"Qing’er?" Haoran asked, tilting the parchment.

Qing’er leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she processed the jagged lines and ancient script. "That seems to be... a partial map of the Prime Origin Realm, Young Master. Specifically, it marks the hidden ley lines of the Central Imperial Region. However, since it is only a fragment, I cannot be quite sure of the exact coordinates."

"I see. It’s alright," Haoran said, his expression neutral. "It’s better to have it than to not have it, I guess. Every piece of the puzzle I take is one less clue for my ’father’ to find."

He swept the parchment into his storage.

"Alright." Haoran stood up, the golden dragons on his black robes seeming to ripple as he straightened his posture.

He looked out past the walls of the Ling manor, his gaze fixed on the distant mountain ranges where the local powers held court. "The ’Starter Village’ is now empty. Let us depart."

He began to analyze the next logical step in a protagonist’s journey.

After surviving a disaster or leaving their home city, these Anomalies almost always sought the protection and resources of a larger organization—usually a local powerful sect or an academy with a storied history.

And that sect will always looked strong but is actually weak.

"What is the weakest sect in this kingdom that is still considered an overlord in the eyes of this small city?" Haoran asked, turning to Ling Luochen.

Ling Luochen didn’t have to think for long, after all her knowledge of the region’s power structure was intimate. "That would be the Silver Wing Sect, Young Master. It is a subordinate sect founded by the royal family of the Silver Wing Kingdom. In the eyes of ordinary citizens and small clans like the Jiangs, it holds absolute power. However, on a continental scale, it is always overshadowed by the branches Conferred Pagoda and the other Great Sects. It is essentially a place for regional geniuses to feel important before they realize how small they truly are."

"Good," Haoran said, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face. "A sect with enough power to be a ’target’ for a rising protagonist, but weak enough that they will be desperate for a ’savior.’ It is the perfect stage. Let us go there."

He turned towards Qing’er and with a wave of her hand, space began to ripple before she moved to his side, her shadows expanding to envelop them both.

"We shall see," Haoran whispered as they began to vanish into the void, "how long Jiang Chen can keep his ’destiny’ when I am the one writing the ending."