Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 85: The Arrival and The Willow Tree

Saint Burial Realm.

Conferred Pagoda.

At this moment, the atmosphere within the Main Hall of the Conferred Pagoda was so heavy it felt as though the gravity itself had been multiplied ten-fold.

This hall, a masterpiece of architectural arrogance, was built from ancient stones that whispered the history of the Saint Burial Realm’s subjugation.

Now, that history was about to witness a new, terrifying Chapter.

All Seven Great Elders, the pillars of power who held the fate of millions in their hands, were lined up with military precision.

Among them, Shangguan Mu’er stood with her head bowed, her bluish-silver hair shimmering like moonlight against the polished floor.

Beside them were the high-ranking deacons, sect protectors, and the crème de la crème of the younger generation.

Ling Luochen, positioned among the elite disciples, felt her heart hammering against her ribs.

Her blood-red eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the massive golden altar at the center of the hall as the air around the altar began to distort, humming with a frequency that made the very marrow of her bones ache.

Just then, a pillar of golden light, purer than anything seen in this realm, descended from the heavens.

It pierced through the roof of the pagoda as if the solid stone were nothing more than parchment.

The light was so blindingly radiant, carrying a divine pressure so immense, that even the Nascent Soul elders were forced to close their eyes and shield their faces.

As the radiance slowly began to dim, retreating into a soft, pulsating glow, the hall fell into a silence so absolute that the flickering of the torches sounded like thunder.

Standing upon the altar were two figures who seemed to have been carved from the very essence of the stars.

The central figure was a handsome young man with golden-blonde hair that seemed to catch and hold the light.

He was draped in a black robe of such exquisite craftsmanship that the golden dragon designs embroidered upon it appeared to be breathing, their eyes glowing with a faint, sentient light.

Behind him stood a woman who looked like a shadow brought to life, her long black hair framed a face of porcelain coldness, and her red eyes held the indifference of an eternal void.

She wore a black, sleeveless bodysuit that hugged her form like a second skin, exuding an aura of a warrior of such caliber that this world had never seen.

A beat passed, just a single heartbeat of collective realization, and then, as if pulled by a single string, the Seven Great Elders, the Sect Head, and every single person in the massive hall dropped to their knees.

The sound of their bodies hitting the floor echoed with a rhythmic thud of total submission.

Haoran stood on the altar, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed everything.

His gaze was not that of a visitor, but of a sovereign inspecting a dusty corner of his attic as his eyes scanned the room, peeling back the layers of everyone’s cultivation as easily as one might read an open book.

Just as his Aunt Yuyan had warned him, the "powerhouses" here were tragically limited; the highest ceiling was merely the Nascent Soul Realm.

To him, they were like ants arguing over who was the tallest. And in the Imperial Capital, they will be nothing more than the lowest bottom feeder, probably working like a slave with a salary barely enough to feed them.

However, his sweeping gaze came to a sudden, sharp halt as it landed on two particular women.

The first was the woman with the bluish-silver hair kneeling among the elders.

To any other observer, this Shangguan Mu’er was definitely a peerless human beauty at the peak of her cultivation.

But Haoran’s eyes, tempered by the bloodline of the Shen Clan, saw the truth beneath the flesh at a glance.

She was not human, or rather, she was no longer human, but a demon.

What’s more, a demon with such a pure bloodline.

’She probably received an inheritance of a Demon King,’ he noted internally.

A Demon King, that is a classification of a demon at the same level as a human Heavenly Saint Realm expert. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

And due to a demon’s superior physical strength almost at the same level as a demonic beast and innate self-regeneration, they are even considered to be far more superior than an average human cultivator.

In the upper realm where the qi was vast and with abundance of resources, she could touch the Spirit Ascension realm within a decade, maybe even less.

But in this "trash" environment, it would likely take her a century of painstaking effort.

Then, his eyes shifted to the girl with the pink hair and the daringly open-backed robe.

At that moment, Ling Luochen felt a chill wash over her as those golden eyes locked onto hers.

In that split second, Haoran saw the tribal tattoo on her back not as art, but as a testament to her dedication and will.

He can see that she was in the middle of a brutal, self-inflicted transformation, forging her mortal marrow into that of a demon.

’Interesting,’ he mused. ’To attempt such a thing in a world with such low-grade Qi... if she survives the forging, her body will rival a Sacred Physique.’

But his interest was fleeting, after all in the grand tapestry of the universe, they were still just minor curiosities.

He had come for a purpose this time, not to admire them.

"Who is the current head of the Conferred Pagoda?" Haoran’s voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that made the air in the hall tremble.

The silence was broken by an old man at the front of the line who stood up with trembling limbs, his face pale as he cupped his hands in a gesture of absolute respect. "It is me, Young Master from the Divine Realm. I am Xu Xiaojun. I humble myself before your presence."

Haoran stared at the old man for a moment, his silence more terrifying than a shout.

Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Good. I have no time for pleasantries. I want you to mobilize every resource, every spy, and every disciple under the Pagoda’s banner. I am looking for a specific person. Find them, and your Pagoda shall be rewarded. Fail me, and...well, I don’t have to say anything more, do I?"

Xu Xiaojun blinked, a flicker of fear and confusion crossing his aged features, but he didn’t dare ask for a reason.

He bowed until his forehead touched the floor. "I will do my best, Young Master. The Saint Burial Realm shall be turned upside down if that is what it takes."

*

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Meanwhile, countless miles away from the opulence of the Pagoda, in a corner of this realm that time seemed to have forgotten, lay Stone Village.

It was a place of simple farmers and rugged hunters, far removed from the politics of the "immortals."

In the center of the village stood a single, gnarled willow tree, with its branches were long and weeping, sweeping the ground.

Under the shade of this ancient tree, a small child sat on a flat stone.

He was no older than eight, with messy golden-blonde hair and deep black eyes that held a wisdom far beyond his years.

He was currently preoccupied, holding a small wooden bowl and drinking beast’s milk with great concentration.

Suddenly, the air around the willow tree shimmered as the branches shook violently as if caught in a sudden gale, though the air remained still.

And then, a woman materialized from the trunk of the tree.

She wore a simple green robe, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes were wide with a sudden, piercing dread.

Her form was illusory, flickering like a candle flame in a draft, a sign that her physical body was either distant or severely damaged.

The child paused, milk dripping from his chin, and looked up at the flickering woman. "Master? Did something happen?"

The woman didn’t answer immediately, and instead, she was staring toward the distance, toward the far away mountains where the Conferred Pagoda sat.

A deep, cold frown etched itself onto her beautiful face.

’This feeling... that oppressive, deplorable presence.... Has a descendant from that clan actually descended here? Have they finally found me after all these centuries?’

Her mind flashed back to the catastrophe five hundred years ago, where she had been a legend in her own right, an ordinary willow tree that had achieved the impossible—gaining consciousness and cultivating all the way to the Heavenly Saint Realm.

She had been on the verge of breaking through to the Supreme Emperor realm when she had appeared.

Feng Yuyan.

The woman from the Shen Clan had hunted her not out of malice, but out of cold, scientific curiosity.

To Yuyan, a sentient plant at the Heavenly Saint level was nothing more than "research material" to be dissected and analyzed.

Of course, she does not want to be experimented on, so she fought back, byt the battle had been short and brutal, and she was no match against one of the strongest beings in existence.

To survive, the willow had been forced to burn her very origin, shattering her cultivation and fleeing into the spatial cracks, eventually falling into this lower Saint Burial Realm to hide in this tiny village.

She looked down at the boy, her gaze softening with a mix of affection and terror. ’I hope they haven’t discovered my location. If that person is truly from that clan... then the war I tried to escape is coming to this front door.’

"Master?" the boy asked again, tilting his head.

"It is nothing, little one," she lied, her voice a hollow whisper. "Finish your milk. We must begin your training early today. The sky is changing."