NTR Villain: All the Heroines Belong to Me!-Chapter 53: Martial Arts

As Mu Qianxue finished her brief lecture on cultivation fundamentals, her sharp gaze swept over the gathered disciples—only to halt on one particularly distracted individual.

Lin Fan.

He was staring.

Not at her eyes.

Not at her hands.

But directly at her chest.

Again.

Mu Qianxue let out a long, tired sigh.

It wasn’t the first time, and judging by the look on his face, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

"Lin Fan," Mu Qianxue said flatly, not bothering to hide her exasperation:

"Focus on the basics. Don’t let a mere female body part fry your brain into paste."

The words landed like thunder, and the entire area went dead silent.

Lin Fan’s face turned ten shades of red.

He coughed violently, as if her words had physically struck him in the gut, and rubbed the back of his head in shame.

"I-I didn’t mean to stare!" Lin Fan stammered:

"I was trying to concentrate, and my eyes just... ended up there!"

Mu Qianxue closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"...Whatever. Just focus. On. The. Basics."

Bai Luoluo, nearby with her arms crossed, didn’t even try to hide her disgust.

Her lip curled, and her hand twitched as if she were considering summoning a fireball right then and there.

’Absolutely vile,’ Bai Luoluo thought:

’I should blow him into a crater.’

Lin Fan, now painfully aware of the dagger-like glare burning holes into the side of his face, tried to recover some shred of dignity by lifting his gaze toward the sky—as if he were contemplating the heavens.

Too late.

The damage was done.

Meanwhile, Hei Long was silent, arms folded, watching the entire exchange with open amusement.

He didn’t need to say a word.

Lin Fan was singlehandedly sabotaging himself with the precision of a divine comedy.

"Keep going," Hei Long murmured to himself with a smirk:

"Ruin your chances early. Makes my job easier."

And deep within Lin Fan’s mind—where an old, long-silent voice had stayed dormant for quite some time—a weary, gravelly groan finally echoed through his soul sea:

’Boy...’ the old man’s voice rasped:

’For the millionth time... STOP. BEING. HORNY!’

As an hour passed—

Mu Qianxue opened her eyes slowly:

"Now. Let’s move on to the basics of martial arts."

She stood.

The disciples followed suit, quickly getting to their feet.

Mu Qianxue walked in a circle, eyes flicking from one student to another:

"Most of you know how to throw a punch. How to swing a weapon. But that’s not what martial arts is truly about. The essence of martial arts lies not in raw strength or showy moves, but in discipline, precision, and intent."

She raised one hand, and in a fluid motion, demonstrated a simple palm strike—controlled, centered, and direct.

The wind around her stirred from the force alone.

"There are three foundational pillars to martial arts training," Mu Qianxue began, pacing steadily:

"Stance, Flow, and Control."

She gestured to Lin Fan:

"What is your stance if you cannot maintain balance while under pressure? Your root must be firm before your fist can be sharp."

"..." Lin Fan lowered his head in acknowledgment.

"Flow," Mu Qianxue continued, turning on her heel:

"Your movements must be connected—one leading into the next. Strikes that are rigid or forced may look powerful, but they lack momentum and adaptability. True strength is in seamless motion."

Then she paused in the center of the group, looking each disciple in the eye.

"And finally, control. Control of your body. Of your mind. Of your killing intent. A martial artist who cannot restrain themselves will fall to recklessness, no matter how strong they are."

Mu Qianxue raised her voice slightly:

"You must learn to feel the rhythm of battle, not just react to it. Anticipate. Adapt. Understand where your enemy’s attack starts before you care about where it lands."

With another step, she returned to her original position and folded her arms behind her back.

"We will begin with the most basic form—’Tiger’s Root.’ I expect every one of you to execute it perfectly. Improper posture will not be tolerated."

Then, after a pause, her eyes flicked toward Lin Fan.

"And if you stare anywhere you shouldn’t during the forms," Mu Qianxue added dryly:

"You will be practicing blindfolded."

Hei Long and Bai Luoluo held back their laugh.

Lin Fan immediately snapped into the most rigid stance of his life:

"I won’t let you down, master!"

Mu Qianxue took a deep breath and began demonstrating the first steps of Tiger’s Root, a foundational stance used to train stability, balance, and explosive movement.

She shifted her weight low, knees bent just enough to anchor her body like a rooted tree.

Her arms moved with slow, deliberate precision, flowing from one position to the next—calm yet dangerous, like a blade being drawn in slow motion.

"Observe the flow," Mu Qianxue instructed, her voice firm but patient:

"Strength begins in the feet. Power travels through the waist. Precision ends in the fingertips."

Hei Long and Bai Luoluo watched intently—

All except one.

Lin Fan.

Though he looked like he was watching intently—eyebrows furrowed, head tilted forward, lips slightly parted—his eyes were not on her stance.

Or her movements.

Or her center of gravity.

They were firmly, unwaveringly locked on her chest again.

Mu Qianxue didn’t say anything at first.

She simply continued the form, but her sharp eyes caught everything.

Every twitch of his gaze.

Every stolen glance.

Every ounce of idiocy.

And when the demonstration ended, Mu Qianxue turned to face the group.

"Lin Fan," she said, calm as still water.

Lin Fan flinched. "Y-Yes?"

"Step forward. I’d like to use you as an example for a partner form."

"O-oh, sure! I mean, if it helps the class." Lin fan walked up with a big, dumb grin, puffing his chest out just a bit:

"I’m always ready to help!"

Mu Qianxue’s expression didn’t change:

"Take a stance."

Lin Fan dropped into a fighting pose—sloppy, a little too wide-legged, arms too high—but clearly trying to look impressive.

His eyes flicked toward her again, and once again, drifted downward.

That was the final straw.

In one smooth movement, Mu Qianxue stepped forward, twisted her body low, and snatched his arm.

"Huh—?"

Before Lin Fan could blink, her leg swept behind his knees, and with a clean pivot of her hip, she flipped him high into the air.

Time slowed for him:

"Wait—wait—WAIT!"

Lin Fan crashed down on his back with a thundering thud that rattled the dirt beneath him.

The air exploded from his lungs.

He wheezed like a kicked bellows.

Mu Qianxue stood over him, arms behind her back, completely unbothered.

"This is what happens when your eyes wander instead of focusing on the form."

Lin Fan groaned on the ground, limbs twitching, eyes spinning: ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

"I... I think I saw the heavens..."

Mu Qianxue raised an eyebrow:

"Then consider it spiritual enlightenment."

Bai Luoluo clapped once, approvingly.

Hei Long let out a small chuckle:

"Beautifully done."

And deep in Lin Fan’s fractured consciousness, the old man’s voice:

’Boy... you deserved every second of that.’

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