Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist Chapter 851: Weaving Threads in Yueyang City

Yueyang City pulsed with a chaotic energy that Wang Jian found invigorating after the dull monotony of the countryside. Mortals sward the streets like ants, consud by their petty struggles and fleeting ambitions. Yet, amidst this mundane sea, floated whispers – faint echoes of a world beyond mortal comprehension, the world of cultivators he intended to reclaim.

His base was the Lucky Scholar Inn, a na dripping with irony given his current circumstances. It was clean, relatively quiet, and centrally located – a decent observation post. From here, he would cast his net into the city's murky waters.

'Objectives clear,' he affird ntally, reviewing the plan formulated the previous night. 'Seven Stars Pavilion. Mountain intel. Cultivation knowledge. Funds, including Spirit Stones if possible.'

His silver, acquired from the unfortunate bandits and Master Feng's 'generosity', wouldn't last forever. Yueyang was more expensive than the villages, and information often ca at a price – paid in coin, favours, or blood.

First, the Seven Stars Pavilion. The na itself hinted at sothing more than a mundane herb shop – perhaps an allusion to astrology, formations, or simply grandiose marketing. The rchants in the teahouse had ntioned its interest in rare herbs, particularly from the Serpent's Spine, and its 'unusual clients'. That was the strongest lead.

He spent the morning walking the city, specifically asking directions not for the Pavilion itself (too direct, might arouse suspicion), but for major apothecaries, spice rchants, and purveyors of exotic goods. By cross-referencing directions and observing the flow of well-dressed patrons and sturdy delivery carts, he narrowed down the Pavilion's likely location to the affluent Northern District.

It wasn't a shopfront, as he initially suspected. The Seven Stars Pavilion occupied a large, walled compound disguised as the residence of a wealthy rchant family. High walls, heavy wooden gates guarded by alert-looking n who were definitely more than simple gatekeepers, and windows covered by intricate lattices preventing easy observation.

'Interesting. Not a public business, then. More exclusive. Deals happen behind closed doors.'

He found a multi-story teahouse opposite the compound, offering a decent vantage point from an upper window. Ordering another pot of cheap tea, he settled in for a long watch. Patience was a virtue he possessed in abundance when necessary.

He observed the gate guards' shift changes, the types of carts making deliveries (so carrying mundane goods, others carefully sealed crates emanating faint, unusual scents), and the individuals permitted entry. Most were servants or labourers, but occasionally, figures in finer robes, sotis arriving in covered sedan chairs, would be swiftly admitted after presenting a token or speaking a password to the head guard.

'Tokens or passwords… implies mbership or established clientele. Need to get inside, or intercept soone coming out.'

He noted one particular individual – a middle-aged man with shifty eyes and slightly threadbare robes, who seed perpetually nervous. He visited the Pavilion twice during Wang Jian's observation period, both tis leaving quickly with a small, tightly wrapped package, his gaze darting around as if fearing pursuit.

'That one,' Wang Jian decided. 'He looks like a low-level functionary, perhaps an errand runner or a broker operating on the fringes. Stressed, likely underpaid or in debt. Vulnerable.'

He trailed the nervous man discreetly when he left the Pavilion the second ti. The man hurried through the bustling streets, constantly looking over his shoulder, eventually disappearing into a crowded, lower-class residential area near the Western Market – a maze of narrow, twisting alleys.

Perfect.

Wang Jian didn't act imdiately. He noted the approximate location and returned later that evening, after darkness had fallen. The Western Market area was even more chaotic at night, filled with drunkards, gamblers, and won plying the oldest trade. Shadows danced, providing ample cover.

He located the small, dilapidated courtyard house the nervous man had entered. A single oil lamp burned dimly inside. Using skills honed over lifetis, he scaled the low wall silently, landing like a cat in the muddy yard. He crept to the window, peering through a crack in the wooden shutter.

The man, whose na Wang Jian later learned was Ma Liu, sat alone at a table, nervously counting a small pile of copper coins. The package from the Pavilion lay beside him. He looked miserable.

Wang Jian slipped the simple latch on the flimsy door and entered without a sound.

Ma Liu jumped, startled, his eyes wide with terror as he saw the figure erge from the shadows. "Who… who are you? What do you want?"

Wang Jian stepped into the lamplight, his face calm, his eyes cold. He didn't draw his knife. Sotis, the threat was more effective than the act.

"Relax, Ma Liu," Wang Jian said softly, using the na he'd overheard soone call him earlier near the market. Using the man's na imdiately unnerved him further. "I just want to talk."

"Talk? About what? I have nothing!" Ma Liu stamred, instinctively trying to cover the coins.

"Oh, I think you do," Wang Jian countered smoothly. "You work for, or at least with, the Seven Stars Pavilion, do you not? Running errands? Delivering small packages?"

Ma Liu's face went ashen. "I… I don't know what you're talking about!"

Wang Jian sighed dramatically. "Ma Liu, Ma Liu. Let's not waste ti. I saw you leaving the Pavilion compound. Twice today. Looking quite nervous, I might add." He gestured towards the package on the table. "What interesting items does the Pavilion entrust to you?"

Fear warred with defiance in Ma Liu's eyes. "That's none of your business! Get out!"

Wang Jian took a slow step closer. His aura, though lacking Qi, radiated the chilling pressure of a predator accustod to dominance. Ma Liu shrank back in his chair.

"Here's the situation, Ma Liu," Wang Jian stated flatly. "You're involved with a secretive organization. You look perpetually terrified, suggesting you're either being exploited or you're in over your head. Perhaps both."

He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe you owe gambling debts? Maybe you skimd a little off a delivery? Maybe soone else is blackmailing you?"

Ma Liu flinched at the ntion of gambling debts. Wang Jian saw it. 'Bingo.'

"Whatever it is," Wang Jian continued, "your position is precarious. One word from in the right ear – perhaps to those sturdy guards at the Pavilion gate, or maybe even to so of your less savory creditors – and your miserable life gets considerably worse. Perhaps even… shorter."

Ma Liu started trembling. "What do you want?" he whispered, defeated.

"Information," Wang Jian said simply. "Tell about the Seven Stars Pavilion. What do they really do? Who are their main clients? What kind of herbs or goods do they deal in? How does one beco a supplier or a client? Tell everything."

Faced with Wang Jian's cold pressure and the implied threat to expose him, Ma Liu cracked. Pouring out his story in halting whispers, fueled by fear and desperation.

The Seven Stars Pavilion, he explained, was indeed far more than an herb rchant. It acted as a discreet interdiary, primarily serving cultivators or powerful martial sects operating secretly within the region. They sourced rare, often dangerous-to-harvest herbs, minerals, and beast parts from the Serpent's Spine mountains and other perilous locations, selling them at exorbitant prices.

'Cultivator interdiary. Just as I suspected.'

Their clients were varied – reclusive alchemists, sect elders needing specific ingredients, even so 'unorthodox practitioners' who required items not available through legitimate channels. Ma Liu himself was a small-ti broker, connecting desperate herb gatherers from the mountains with the Pavilion's buyers, taking a risky commission. He was indeed deeply in gambling debt, and the Pavilion kept him on a very short leash.

"What about specific herbs?" Wang Jian pressed. "Things that might interest… cultivators?"

Ma Liu hesitated, then ntioned a few nas whispered among the gatherers: 'Moonpetal Dewdrop', 'Sunscar Fungus', 'Serpent's Blood Vine'. He described their supposed properties – enhancing Qi absorption, healing spiritual injuries, ingredients for potent pills. He also confird the Pavilion dealt in beast cores, particularly from creatures found deep within Blackwood Forest or the higher peaks.

"And Spirit Stones?" Wang Jian asked casually.

Ma Liu shook his head nervously. "Spirit Stones? Heavens, no! The Pavilion might accept them as paynt from truly powerful clients, I've heard rumors, but they don't trade them. Those are like Immortal treasures! Far beyond the likes of or even the Pavilion's day-to-day business."

'So, acquiring Spirit Stones directly through the Pavilion is unlikely. As expected.'

Wang Jian then questioned him about Blackstone Peak and the Jade Moon Sect. Ma Liu knew little, only the common rumors – Blackstone Peak was considered ill-oned, avoided by most gatherers due to strange disappearances and lights. The Jade Moon Sect was a legend, maybe real, maybe not, supposedly hidden sowhere inaccessible in the highest parts of the Serpent's Spine. No one knew how to find them or contact them.

Wang Jian absorbed all this, cross-referencing it with what he already knew. Ma Liu, despite his lowly position, had provided valuable confirmation and details.

'He's served his purpose.'

Ma Liu looked up hopefully. "I've told you everything! Please, just let go! I won't say a word!"

Wang Jian smiled faintly. "You're right, Ma Liu. You won't say a word."

Before Ma Liu could react, Wang Jian's hand shot out, clamping over the man's mouth while his other hand delivered a swift, precise chop to the back of his neck. A muffled snap, and Ma Liu went limp.

Wang Jian lowered the body gently to the floor. No ss, no struggle. Quick, clean, efficient. Leaving loose ends was sloppy. Ma Liu knew his face, knew he was asking questions. Alive, he was a liability.

He calmly searched the small house. He found the package from the Pavilion – inside was a small pouch containing a dried, faintly glowing fungus. 'Sunscar Fungus, perhaps?' He pocketed it. Might be useful later, or sellable if he found the right channel. He also took Ma Liu's ager coins and a crudely drawn map hidden under the floorboards, showing paths into the foothills of the Serpent's Spine, likely used by the herb gatherers Ma Liu dealt with.

He wiped down any surfaces he might have touched, arranged the scene to look like Ma Liu had perhaps choked on food or drink (a common enough end for desperate gamblers), and slipped back out into the night as silently as he had arrived.

One objective partially achieved: confirmation and details about the Seven Stars Pavilion. One potential lead (Ma Liu) eliminated. One potentially valuable herb acquired.

The next day, Wang Jian shifted focus: knowledge acquisition. Specifically, practical knowledge about local herbs, alchemy basics, and perhaps maps or texts relating to the Serpent's Spine.

He started with apothecaries. Most were simple shops selling common redies. But in a quieter side street, he found 'Old Fang's Herbal Redies'. The shop was dusty, cluttered, and slled strongly of dried plants. Behind the counter sat a wizened old man with cloudy eyes, ticulously grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle.

Wang Jian browsed the shelves, feigning interest in common cures.

"Looking for sothing specific, young man?" Old Fang asked without looking up, his voice raspy.

"Just curious, venerable elder," Wang Jian replied respectfully. "I grew up in the countryside, familiar with so basic plants, but the city has so many more." He picked up a bundle of dried leaves. "What is this used for?"

Old Fang squinted at it. "Feverfew. Good for headaches."

Wang Jian spent the next hour engaging the old man, asking seemingly innocent questions about various herbs, praising his knowledge. Old Fang, clearly lonely and proud of his craft, slowly ward up, launching into explanations of different plants and their uses.

Wang Jian listened intently, absorbing the information, comparing it to his vast but currently inaccessible knowledge from the Chaos cosmos. So herbs were similar, others completely alien.

He noticed a locked wooden chest behind the counter. "You have so truly rare items here, elder. What treasures do you keep locked away?" he asked lightly.

Old Fang chuckled drily. "Treasures? Just my references. Old herbals, so passed down, so copied. Notes from my youth. Worthless to anyone but ."

'Reference books. Exactly what I need.'

Wang Jian expressed admiration for the elder's dedication and purchased a few common herbs he didn't actually need, paying slightly over the odds. "Thank you for sharing your wisdom, Elder Fang. It's rare to et soone with such deep knowledge."

He left, making sure the elder had a positive impression of the polite, curious young man.

That night, Wang Jian returned.

Old Fang lived in a small apartnt above his shop. Wang Jian bypassed the shop entrance, scaling the building's wall with silent ease, slipping through the unlocked window of the apartnt's storage room.

He moved through the dark apartnt like a ghost. He found Old Fang asleep in his small bedroom, snoring softly. In the main room, near the stairs leading down to the shop, was the locked wooden chest.

The lock was simple, old. Wang Jian examined it. He didn't have lock picks, but he didn't need them. Using his knife and a thin piece of tal he'd acquired, leveraging his understanding of basic chanics, he manipulated the tumblers. A soft click echoed in the silence. The chest opened.

Inside were several hand-bound books and scrolls. He carefully lifted them out, examining them in the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

'Compendium of Common Yue Herbs'. 'Notes on Serpent's Spine Flora'. 'Beginner's Guide to Harmonizing Ingredients'. 'Basic Poultice and Salve Recipes'.

Bingo. Exactly what he needed. Not high-level cultivation texts, but practical, foundational knowledge for this world. One scroll even had crude drawings and descriptions of plants Ma Liu had ntioned, including one matching the Sunscar Fungus he now possessed. Another book contained basic alchemical principles – heating tis, catalyst reactions, ingredient preparation – albeit focused on mortal redies, the core concepts were transferable.

He couldn't steal the books outright; Old Fang would notice imdiately and raise an alarm. Copying them by hand would take far too long.

'Need to borrow them. Long enough to morize.'

He scanned the room. He found Old Fang's writing supplies – ink stone, brushes, cheap paper. An idea ford, cruel but efficient.

He went back to the storage room, found a small, empty clay jar. He went downstairs into the darkened shop. Using his newfound knowledge from browsing earlier, he quickly located several specific herbs known to induce temporary, non-lethal paralysis and confusion when ground and inhaled. He ground them together using Old Fang's own mortar and pestle, creating a fine powder.

He returned upstairs. Standing over the sleeping Old Fang, he carefully wafted the powder near the old man's face. Old Fang stirred slightly, coughed, then settled back into a deeper, unnaturally still slumber, his breathing shallow but steady.

'That should keep him incapacitated and confused for at least a day, maybe two. Long enough.'

He carried the chest's contents back to his inn room. The Lucky Scholar Inn wasn't ideal for long-term study, but it would have to do for now. He spent the entire next day and night sequestered in his room, ticulously reading, analyzing, and committing the contents of Old Fang's precious books and scrolls to mory.

His soul, honed by eons of cultivation and study, absorbed the information at an incredible rate. Plant identification, properties, basic alchemical processes, geographic notes on the Serpent's Spine foothills – it flowed into his mind, forming a new foundation of knowledge specific to this realm.

By the morning of the second day, he had internalized everything of value. He carefully returned the books to the chest, relocked it, and returned to Old Fang's apartnt via the window.

The old man was still unconscious, though stirring slightly. Wang Jian placed the chest back where he found it, wiped away any trace of his presence, and left as silently as he ca.

Old Fang would eventually wake up, confused, groggy, perhaps thinking he'd just slept very deeply or had a strange illness. He'd never know his life's work had been ntally plundered.

Knowledge secured. Objective partially achieved.

Next, information on the mountains and potential sect locations. Maps were crucial.

He visited several shops claiming to sell maps, but most were crude, inaccurate depictions of the prefecture, useless for navigating treacherous mountain terrain. He needed sothing more detailed, perhaps military-grade or used by experienced hunters or surveyors.

His inquiries led him to the 'Adventurer's Rest', a rowdy tavern frequented by rcenaries, caravan guards, hunters, and other rough types who often traveled the prefecture's wilder regions. The air was thick with cheap wine fus, boastful laughter, and the clang of tankards.

He took a corner table, ordered watered-down wine he barely touched, and listened. He heard tales of giant spiders in Blackwood Forest, rumors of rich ore veins discovered (and fought over) in the western hills, and argunts about the best routes to avoid recent bandit activity near Serpent's Pass.

He focused on a group of three grizzled n dressed in worn leather, clearly hunters or trappers familiar with the mountains. They were complaining about a recent failed hunt deep in the Serpent's Spine foothills.

"... damn mist!" one grumbled. "Ca out of nowhere. Couldn't see ten feet ahead. Lost the trail of that Cloudhorn Stag completely."

"And that weird whistling sound near Blackstone?" another added, shivering slightly despite the warm tavern. "Felt like ghosts watching us. I say we stick closer to the outer ridges from now on."

The third nodded grimly. "Place is cursed, I tell ya. Especially Blackstone Peak. My uncle vanished near there years ago. Found his camp, but no sign of him."

Wang Jian waited until they had drunk a fair amount more. He approached their table, adopting a respectful, slightly naive deanor.

"Apologies for intruding, seniors," he said, offering a slight bow. "I couldn't help but overhear you speaking of the Serpent's Spine. I am… considering a trip into the foothills myself. For rare herbs."

The hunters eyed him up and down. "You, boy?" the first one scoffed. "Alone? The foothills ain't a place for greenhorns. You'll end up as wolf-at or worse."

"I understand the risks," Wang Jian said earnestly. "But the potential rewards… I heard certain plants fetch high prices here in the city. I was hoping experienced hunters like yourselves might offer so advice? Perhaps point towards reliable maps of the safer paths?"

He subtly placed a few silver coins on the table. "For your ti and wisdom, of course."

Silver always talked in places like this. The hunters' expressions softened slightly.

"Maps, eh?" the second hunter grunted, pocketing the silver. "Most maps ain't worth the parchnt they're drawn on for the deep mountains. Best maps are kept by the military, or families like the Hongs who claim logging rights near Serpent's Pass."

'The Hong family? Logging rights? Another potential avenue.'

"But," the third hunter leaned in conspiratorially, "we got our own charts. Sketched 'em ourselves over the years. Marked safe water sources, good hunting grounds, places to avoid…" He tapped his temple. "Most of it's up here, but we got so drawings back at our lodge."

"Could I perhaps… see these drawings?" Wang Jian asked hopefully. "Just the foothill regions? I wouldn't dream of intruding on your secret hunting grounds."

The hunters exchanged glances. They were clearly reluctant to share their hard-earned knowledge with a stranger.

Wang Jian added more silver to the pile. "A fair price for invaluable knowledge."

Greed warred with caution in their eyes. Finally, the first hunter sighed. "Alright, alright. Finish your drink, boy. We'll take you back to the lodge, let you have a quick look. But no copies, understand? Just look."

"Understood, and thank you, seniors!" Wang Jian bead, playing the grateful novice.

He followed them out of the tavern and through a network of back alleys to a rundown lodge house used by itinerant hunters. Inside, amidst drying pelts and hunting gear, they grudgingly unrolled several pieces of tanned hide covered in charcoal sketches and notes.

The maps were crude compared to cultivator standards, but far more detailed than anything sold comrcially. They showed trails, landmarks, warnings about treacherous ravines, locations of known beast lairs, and, crucially, rough outlines of areas deeper in the mountains, including the dreaded Blackstone Peak region, marked with skulls and warnings like "Bad Air" and "Strange Lights". There was no ntion of a Jade Moon Sect.

Wang Jian studied the maps intently, his powerful mory absorbing every line, every note. He asked clarifying questions, feigning difficulty understanding certain symbols, prompting the hunters to explain further, revealing more details in their gruff explanations.

After nearly an hour, he straightened up. "Thank you, seniors. This has been incredibly helpful."

"Right then," the first hunter said gruffly, already rolling up the maps. "Ti for you to be on your way, boy. And keep quiet about this, eh?"

"Of course," Wang Jian smiled reassuringly.

As he turned to leave, the second hunter suddenly frowned, suspicion dawning in his slightly booze-addled brain. "Hold on… you morized that awful quick, didn't ya? For just 'having a look'?"

The third hunter also looked uneasy. "Yeah… seed mighty interested in the Blackstone area too, for soone just lookin' for herbs in the foothills…"

Their eyes narrowed. They realized they might have been played.

Wang Jian stopped at the door, his back to them. He sighed inwardly. 'Predictable. Greed makes them share, then suspicion makes them regret. Loose ends.'

He turned around slowly. The smile was gone from his face, replaced by the sa cold indifference he'd shown Master Feng.

"You noticed," he stated flatly. "A pity."

The hunters instinctively reached for the knives at their belts. "Who are you, boy?" the first one demanded, nace returning to his voice.

"Soone who now possesses your valuable knowledge," Wang Jian replied. "And soone who dislikes complications."

He moved before they could draw. Faster than they could track. He grabbed a heavy wood-chopping axe leaning against the wall.

The fight was short, brutal, and confined to the small lodge room. Despite their experience hunting beasts, the hunters were re mortals against Wang Jian's honed combat skills and ruthless efficiency. Axe, knife, improvised weapons like stools and firewood – he used everything at hand.

Minutes later, Wang Jian stood breathing steadily amidst the wreckage and the three still bodies. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

He searched the lodge thoroughly, finding a bit more coin, so usable survival gear, and, most importantly, the hunters' map-hides. He rolled them up carefully and tucked them into his pack.

He cleaned himself up, ensured the door was barred from the inside, and slipped out a back window, lting back into the city's nightti shadows.

Mountain intelligence: Secured. Objective achieved. Loose ends: Tied up permanently.

He now had knowledge of herbs and basic alchemy, detailed maps of the region he needed to explore, and confird information about the Seven Stars Pavilion's role. The path towards the Serpent's Spine, towards Blackstone Peak, and towards the elusive world of cultivators was becoming clearer.

The only missing piece was Spirit Stones, the currency of the powerful. That, he suspected, would require venturing much closer to the fire. Perhaps the Seven Stars Pavilion held more secrets than Ma Liu knew, or perhaps the mountains themselves held the key.

His ti in Yueyang City was drawing to a close. It was ti to move towards the true wilderness.