Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

Her voice wasn’t husky or alluring anymore.

It dropped into a terrifying, demonic register that caused the air in the courtyard to instantly freeze.

The eighty boys paused their screaming, blinking in confusion.

Ji’an raised the spatula.

She didn’t aim for a rock. She didn’t aim for a dummy.

She aimed directly for Lu Jianheng’s perfectly styled head.

THWACK!

The sound of dense cast-iron colliding with a skull echoed across the courtyard like a gunshot.

"AGH!" Jianheng shrieked, his eyes rolling back in his head as the kinetic shockwave sent him flying backward into the mud, a instant welt forming on his forehead.

"She is feisty!" Hu Yanlie roared, completely misinterpreting the violence. "I LOVE IT! HIT ME NEXT!"

"WITH PLEASURE, YOU FERAL IDIOT!" Ji’an roared, entirely abandoning all restraint.

She blurred into motion. She became a silver-haired, white-robed tornado of absolute culinary wrath.

THWACK! SMACK! CRACK!

"AHHH!" Gu Zhiwei wailed as the flat of the spatula slapped him directly across his nose and his butt, sending him tumbling into a puddle.

"MY GLASSES!" Wen Shiru screamed, taking a blunt-force spatula strike to the stomach that folded the merchant entirely in half.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Senior Brother Kui shrieked, desperately trying to draw his poison knives, only to receive a devastating kick to the shins that launched him into a pile of training dummies.

Ji’an didn’t use Qi spells or elemental magic.

She used raw, furious, manual labor.

She waded into the crowd of eighty men, brutally, and violently beat the absolute living hell out of every single one of them.

"YOU WANT TO PROPOSE?!" Ji’an screamed, her silver hair whipping around her face like a vengeful storm as she repeatedly struck Hu Yanlie over the head until the Beast Lord started crying. "I LEAVE YOU UNSUPERVISED FOR THREE HOURS, AND THE SECOND A GIRL WALKS INTO THE YARD, YOU ALL LOSE YOUR MINDS?! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE TRAINING! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MEDITATING!"

THWACK!

"I’LL SHOW YOU A FAIRY MAIDEN! I’LL TENDERIZE YOU UNTIL YOU LOOK LIKE HAMBURGER MEAT!"

As the relentless, familiar barrage of culinary abuse rained down upon them, a horrifying, reality-breaking realization began to dawn upon the bruised, beaten, groaning pile of prodigies.

That specific swing-arc.

That specific phrasing.

That terrifying, deeply traumatic affinity for cast-iron cookware.

Lu Jianheng, lying in the mud, clutching his bruising forehead, looked up through his swollen eyes at the beautiful, silver-haired goddess who was currently beating Gu Zhiwei with a frying pan.

"Brother... Martial Uncle Lin?" Jianheng whispered, his voice cracking, absolute, soul-crushing horror flooding his veins.

Ji’an stopped swinging.

She stood in the center of the groaning, writhing, completely decimated courtyard, her chest heaving, her spatula raised, her silver hair glowing in the sun.

"YES, YOU SONOVABITCHES! MORON!" Ji’an roared, her eyes blazing with furious fire. "IT’S ME! YOU JUST TRIED TO RECITE MOON-POETRY TO YOUR INSTRUCTOR!"

The silence that followed was the heaviest, most agonizingly cringe-inducing silence in the history of the Azure Empire.

Gu Zhiwei, clutching his bruised nose, stared up at her. He processed the fact that he had just asked his tyrannical, terrifying Leader to marry him and eat hotpot.

"I..." Zhiwei squeaked, his golden aura completely short-circuiting. "I... I asked you to be my husband."

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ASKED, ZHIWEI!" Ji’an screamed, pointing the spatula at him. "AND IF YOU EVER BRING IT UP AGAIN, I AM BOILING YOUR BOOTS!"

Hu Yanlie buried his face in the mud, unable to cope with the fact that he had just aggressively demanded the Chef become his mate.

Wen Shiru was frantically trying to calculate a timeline where he could erase the last ten minutes from his own memory using a traumatic head injury.

The local Azure Dragon disciples were huddled in the corners, weeping silently, terrified beyond mortal comprehension.

At that exact moment, the heavy oak doors of the courtyard opened again.

Stepping out into the sunlight, having finally emerged from the underground wine cellar, was Xie Wangchen.

The Ice Demon was carrying a small, perfectly chilled glass of water. He looked up, his ruby eyes scanning the courtyard, taking in the groaning, beaten bodies of the eighty men.

And then, his eyes locked onto Lin Ji’an.

He didn’t see the glitching artifact. He knew exactly who it was.

But he saw the hair.

He saw the long, cascading, shimmering waterfall of pure, liquid silver hair that was identical in shade to his own. He saw the way the sunlight caught it, framing her incredibly flushed, furious, and devastatingly handsome/beautiful face.

Xie Wangchen stopped breathing.

The glass of water slipped from his fingers, shattering on the obsidian stones.

The Ice Demon’s brain completely detonated. An overwhelming wave of unhinged simp-energy flooded his core.

’Ji’an matches me,’ Wangchen’s internal monologue wept with religious euphoria. ’His hair is silver. He looks exactly like me. We are aesthetically synchronized. It is a sign from the Heavens. We are destined to be entombed together in ice forever.’

Wangchen didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

He simply stood in the doorway, staring at her, a dark, terrifying, possessive blush spreading across his pale cheeks, looking like a man who had just witnessed the face of God.

Ji’an, panting heavily, saw Wangchen staring at her head.

She frowned, confusion piercing through her rage.

She reached up, running a hand through her hair.

Instead of the short, dark, messy locks she was used to, her fingers tangled in long, silky, heavy silver tresses.

Ji’an froze.

She pulled a lock of the silver hair in front of her face, staring at it cross-eyed.

She reached into her spatial ring with trembling hands. She pulled out a polished silver mirror.

She looked at her reflection, saw the silver hair, and saw the glitched, softened, intensely feminine jawline caused by her Body Fusion breakthrough overloading her disguise artifact.

She realized exactly what she looked like.

She realized exactly why eighty men had just tried to propose to her.

"Oh, Heavens," Ji’an whispered, the mirror dropping from her hand.

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