Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 89: ’Father’ and ’Son’

The heavy mahogany doors of the Ling Clan’s central reception hall swung open with a resounding thud, revealing the grandeur of a family that had, until very recently, held the city in its palm.

Ling Hongchen stepped through the threshold, his face instantly transforming from the mask of a harried, desperate businessman to that of a doting, proud father.

The sight of his daughter sitting within the hall acted like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

"Luochen!" Ling Hongchen exclaimed, his voice booming with a mixture of relief and genuine joy as he hurried toward the seating area, his eyes bright. "I thought you were busy in the Pagoda’s inner peaks. Your return is like a rainstorm in the middle of a drought!"

Ling Luochen stood up, her robe rustling as she looked at her father, yet her blood-red eyes, however, did not hold the same warmth; they were sharp with the realization of the crisis her family faced.

"Father, it is a good thing the heavens saw fit to bring me back at this exact moment. Otherwise, I fear that by the time I returned for the annual festival, I would have found the Ling name erased from the gates of Fragrant Flower City."

Ling Hongchen’s smile faltered, replaced by a heavy, weary sigh as he slumped into the head chair, the weight of the past few days visibly crushing his shoulders.

"Indeed. I never knew that the trash Jiang Chen was actually a hidden genius of the alchemical arts. The rumors say he was secretly accepted as a disciple by a Rank 5 Alchemist who passed through the city by chance. To turn common weeds into pills that rival the Pagoda’s supply... it is a nightmare I cannot wake up from."

Just then, a voice, calm and crystalline like the ringing of a silver bell, cut through the somber atmosphere.

"Patriarch Ling, can you show me the pills that the Jiang Clan has been producing?"

Ling Hongchen jumped slightly, his gaze snapping to the young man sitting beside his daughter.

He had been so focused on Luochen that he had only seen the guests as blurred shapes in the background.

Now, as he took in the golden-blonde hair, the black robes with the restless golden dragons, and the sheer, overwhelming presence of the youth, he felt a cold sweat prickle his neck.

"This guest is...?" Ling Hongchen asked, his voice wavering as he turned to his daughter for an explanation.

"A distinguished guest of the Pagoda, Father," Ling Luochen said, her tone carrying a warning of absolute reverence. "Do not ask questions beyond your station. Just show him the pills."

Ling Hongchen was startled into a momentary silence.

A "distinguished guest" of the Pagoda? In his mind, the Conferred Pagoda was the sovereign of the Saint Burial Realm.

For them to treat a youth as a "distinguished guest" implied a status so high it was beyond his comprehension.

Was he a prince of an ancient powerful empire?

A descendant of a Divine Sect?

He didn’t dare speculate further; he was a small figure in a vast world, and he knew when to bow.

"O-Oh, alright. Of course," Ling Hongchen stammered.

He reached into his storage ring and pulled out two jade bottles, their surfaces etched with the sigil of the Jiang Clan.

He handed them to Luochen, who in turn presented them to Haoran with a slight bow.

"These are the pills that have paralyzed our markets, Young Master." Said Ling Hongchen.

Shen Haoran took the bottles and simply twirled them between his slender fingers, before flicking the cap open with his thumb.

Almost immediately, a faint, sharp aroma filled the hall—a scent of iron, crushed petals, and a very specific, high-frequency spiritual resonance.

He inhaled deeply and then let out a sharp, mocking smirk.

"These are the Dragon-Tiger Blood Nourishing Pill and the Silver Spirit Pill," Haoran said, his voice dripping with an amusement that chilled the room.

This confirmed it beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was truly the Jiang Chen he had crossed worlds to find.

After all, these two specific pill recipes were actually invented by a master alchemist of the Shen Clan centuries ago during his early training years.

Because they were "starter" recipes for a high-level clan, they used seemingly mundane materials to achieve maximum efficiency.

Aside from the inner circle of the Shen Clan, no one in the Prime Origin Realm, let alone this lower world, should know the precise ratios and fire-temperatures required to refine them.

That "Jiang Chen" had likely come across these pill recipes when he was still a husband candidate—or rather, a victim—staying within the Shen Clan domain in his previous life.

"Young Master Shen, you know these pills?" Ling Luochen asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Before Haoran could answer, the peace of the hall was shattered.

The heavy doors were burst open by a servant who was so panicked he practically slid across the floor on his knees, his face white with terror.

Ling Hongchen’s cheek twitched in pure, unadulterated annoyance. "You! This is the second time a servant has dared to intrude unannounced! Have you all forgotten the laws of this house!?"

"Apologies, Patriarch! Young Miss!" the servant shrieked, gasping for air. "But the Jiang Clan... they are at our gates! They have brought their entire martial force! They are shouting in the streets... they are demanding that we sell all our properties and pharmacies to them by sundown, or they will ’cleanse’ the street!"

"What!? Those upstarts! Those vultures!" Ling Hongchen screamed, his Qi erupting in a violent, unstable flare that shattered a nearby vase. "The Jiang Clan truly thinks they can trample the Ling name just because they sold a few bottles of medicine!?"

Shen Haoran, however, didn’t look angry at the interruption, and instead slowly stood up, the golden dragons on his robe seeming to ripple in the torchlight as a dark, amused smirk played on his lips as he looked toward the courtyard.

’Well, would you look at that,’ Haoran thought, his eyes shimmering with a cold light. ’the rabbit has actually decided to jump directly into a lion’s mouth. Well, this saves me the trouble of a hunt.’

"Let me see," Haoran said aloud.

He didn’t wait for permission; he simply walked toward the exit, his steps light and silent.

Qing’er followed him like a shadow, her red eyes already scanning the perimeter for threats.

Ling Luochen and a fuming Ling Hongchen followed behind them, their faces set in grim masks of determination.

*

*

*

At the gates of Ling Clan.

Standing at the head of a hundred Jiang Clan members was a young man with a posture that was far too composed for a twenty-two-year-old wastrel.

It was Jiang Chen, and he stood there, his arms crossed, a smirk of absolute, arrogant confidence on his face, looking like a king inspecting a conquered village.

"What do you want, Jiang Clan!?" An elder of the Ling clan roared from the top of the stairs, his voice amplified by his Qi. "Don’t think that just because you’ve filled your coffers with a bit of gold you can come here and demand the heritage of the Lings! You are overstepping your bounds!"

"That’s right!" another Ling elder shouted from behind. "Our Young Miss is a disciple of the Conferred Pagoda! One word from her and your clan will be ash!"

Jiang Chen threw his head back and laughed—a boisterous, mocking sound that echoed off the surrounding buildings.

"Hahaha! Ling Clan, spare me the lecture! When the Jiangs were struggling under your price-gouging, did any of you think of ’sparing’ us? You broke the engagement to climb a higher branch, and now you want to hide behind the Pagoda’s skirt? If you’ve got any guts, call out your ’genius’ daughter now and let her see what a real master looks like!"

"Truly arrogant!"

Ling Luochen stepped forward, her bluish-pink hair fluttering in the wind, her cold, blood-red glare focused on Jiang Chen with the intensity of a laser.

Behind her, Ling Hongchen, Shen Haoran and Qinq’er stood quietly.

"A trash who hasn’t even broken through to the Qi Gathering Realm yet... how dare you make a fuss at my father’s gate? Do you truly believe your parlor tricks with a cauldron make you an immortal?"

Jiang Chen stared at her, his eyes lacking any of the old infatuation she was used to, and instead, they were filled with a terrifying, indifferent boredom. "Hah! Just someone who relies on her master’s name! Before the Pagoda took you in, wasn’t your Ling Clan clinging to our thighs for scraps? You are a swallow who thinks she’s a phoenix because she flew to a higher roof."

"You—!" Ling Luochen’s Qi flared, her hand moving toward the hilt of her sword.

Just then, she felt a cool, steady hand pat her shoulder.

The touch was light, but it contained a pressure that instantly grounded her frantic Qi.

She looked up and saw Shen Haoran stepping past her.

"Young Master?" Luochen whispered, confused.

Shen Haoran walked towards the gates, his height towering over Jiang Chen who stood outside, making him look down at Jiang Chen.

"And who are you?" Jiang Chen smirked arrogantly, "Are you a pursuer of that bitch? Heh, go on. Enjoy my sloppy seconds."

"Bastard!" Ling Luochen gritted her teeth in anger. This trash was actually trying to ruin her reputation with the young master!

Shen Haoran remained silent.

He didn’t look angry at all, in fact, he looked delighted, as if he had just found a particularly interesting insect in a jar.

He stared at the "young master" of the Jiang Clan and let out a soft, melodic laugh.

"An old monster, nearly a thousand years old, arguing with a child in the middle of a dusty street," Haoran said, his voice carrying a strange, haunting resonance that seemed to bypass the ears and strike the soul. "Tell me... how low have you fallen, Peerless Sword Venerable?"

The world seemed to stop.

The smirk on Jiang Chen’s instantly faded, his body went rigid, and his pupils shrunk to pinpricks.

The air around him grew heavy, his Body Refining aura flickering as if a much larger, darker soul was trying to burst through the seams of his flesh.

That was his title in the Prime Origin Realm—a title that no one in this backwater realm should’ve known.

A title that should have been buried with his previous life.

Jiang Chen stared at the golden-blonde youth, his heart hammering with a sudden, icy dread. "You... who are you!? How do you know that name!?"

Haoran didn’t answer, instead, he simply tilted his head, his golden eyes glowing with a predatory light.

"Who am I doesn’t matter. What matters is that, you have to die."