Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"Did you miss the part where their gatekeepers are Nascent Soul level? If we charge in there swinging, they will activate their defensive arrays, execute the hostages, and we will be fighting a war of attrition in a confined space. We need to infiltrate."

"How do we infiltrate a demonic brothel that exclusively kidnaps men?" Wen Shiru asked, adjusting his silver glasses, calculating the logistical impossibility. "They will recognize our orthodox cultivation bases the moment we step to the gates."

Ji’an went entirely still.

A slow, devious, unhinged smile began to spread across her flawless face.

She slowly turned around to look at the thirteen male protagonists huddled in the brush.

She looked at Gu Zhiwei’s towering, perfectly sculpted physique.

She looked at Lu Jianheng’s sharp, aristocratic elegance. She looked at Hu Yanlie’s feral, raw, scarred masculinity. She looked at Wen Shiru’s refined, scholarly grace, and Xie Wangchen’s devastating, otherworldly immortal beauty.

They were, objectively, a walking, talking catalog of the most premium, high-tier, handsome male specimens to ever exist in the Azure Empire.

"Shiru," Ji’an drawled, her voice dropping into a smooth, sleazy, transactional baritone. "You are looking at this from a martial perspective. You need to look at it from a mercantile perspective."

The Fox blinked, confused. "I do not follow, Chef."

"They are a Yin-Gathering Sect," Ji’an grinned, gesturing broadly to the boys. "They are actively purchasing high-quality Yang energy. And I am currently in possession of thirteen premium-grade, Nascent Soul meat-heads. Why break down the front door when I can literally just sell you to them?"

For a solid ten seconds, the only sound in the brush was the arid wind blowing through the canyon.

And then, the realization of her plan hit the Vanguard Retinue.

"SELL US?!" Lu Jianheng shrieked, his voice cracking by an entire octave, clutching the collar of his robes as if protecting his maidenhood. "Martial Uncle! You cannot traffic us into a demonic brothel! My purity is reserved! I am saving myself for... for a worthy partner!" He shot a desperate, longing glance directly at Ji’an, his face burning a brilliant red.

"Brother Lin is a genius!" Gu Zhiwei cheered enthusiastically, entirely missing the horrifying implications of becoming a Yin-furnace. "I will be the best merchandise! Look at my biceps! I will fetch a premium price! Can I be sold first?!"

"I DO NOT WISH TO BE SOLD TO SOME SOFT WOMEN!" Hu Yanlie roared, pounding the dirt. "IF I AM TO BE CONQUERED, IT MUST BE BY A STRONGER BEAST!" He also stared directly, intensely at Ji’an.

Wen Shiru immediately pulled out his abacus, completely abandoning his morality in favor of raw capitalism. "Chef, if you are acting as my broker, we must establish a clear commission rate. Given my scholarly aesthetic and refined core, I should command a baseline price of at least fifty thousand spirit stones. I demand thirty percent of the gross profit upon our successful escape."

"You get nothing, Fox, it’s a sting operation!" Ji’an snapped, rolling her eyes.

But the most terrifying reaction came from the shadows.

The temperature in the brush plummeted to absolute zero.

The desert sand instantly crystallized into black frost.

Xie Wangchen stepped forward, his ruby eyes blown so wide they were completely consumed by a dark, murderous fire.

The Ice Demon, who now secretly knew that Ji’an was a woman, was experiencing a meltdown of unprecedented proportions.

The idea of his pristine, divine, untouchable Chef pretending to be a sleazy merchant trafficking men into a brothel was bad enough.

The idea of these pathetic, drooling mortals being paraded around as her merchandise was intolerable.

"I will freeze their gates," Wangchen whispered, his voice a melodic hum of genocide. "I will shatter the brothel into red mist. No one buys. No one sells. I will just eradicate them altogether."

"Wangchen, stand down!" Ji’an ordered, grabbing him by the front of his robes, immune to his terrifying aura.

She glared up into his furious eyes. "It’s a cover story! We get inside, locate the hostages, break the array core from the inside, and leave. You are not murdering anyone until I give the signal. Do you understand me, Little Puddle?"

Wangchen looked down at her hands gripping his robes.

He looked at her fierce, commanding silver-flecked eyes.

The murderous rage instantly short-circuited, replaced by the thrill of being manhandled by her.

"As you command, my Chef," Wangchen purred softly, a dark, devoted smirk touching his lips. "I shall play the captive. Bind me if you must."

"Don’t make it weird, Wangchen," Ji’an sighed, releasing him and wiping her hands on her trousers.

Ji’an swiftly outlined the operation.

The Azure Crane maidens and Shen Zechuan, who was deemed too unpredictable for undercover work, would remain outside as the extraction team.

Ji’an would pose as an underground broker who had stumbled upon a jackpot of wandering orthodox cultivators.

The boys would play the bound captives.

Using a bundle of enchanted silken ropes she had confiscated from the Azure Dragon Sect, Ji’an loosely, aesthetically bound the wrists of her thirteen demigods.

She roughed up their hair, smeared a little dirt on Zhiwei’s sculpted face, and ensured Jianheng looked sufficiently tragic.

She then stripped off her white outer tunic, leaving only her tight black inner shirt and her Szechuan Red pants. She let her silver hair fall messily over one eye, adopting a lazy, sleazy, dangerously charismatic slouch.

She didn’t look like a Vanguard Leader anymore. With the glitching artifact enhancing her celestial features, she looked like a dangerously beautiful, rogue underworld prince who traded in broken hearts and stolen souls.

"Alright, boys," Ji’an smirked, grabbing the lead rope and throwing it over her shoulder. "Look miserable. Look submissive. Let’s go make a sale."

Ji’an marched out of the brush, dragging thirteen of the most powerful handsome men in the Azure Empire behind her, and walked straight up to the towering, lacquered crimson gates of the demonic brothel.

The two armed gatekeepers instantly crossed their glowing scimitars, blocking her path.

"Halt!" one of the women hissed, her eyes narrowing as she assessed Ji’an’s unfamiliar aura. "This is the sanctuary of the Crimson Lotus Pavilion. No uninvited guests may enter the Madam’s domain."

Ji’an didn’t flinch.

She leaned back on her heels, offering a slow, wicked, utterly devastating smirk that completely weaponized her glitching celestial beauty.

"I’m not a guest, ladies," Ji’an drawled, her husky baritone dripping with sleazy confidence. She gave the rope a sharp tug, forcing the thirteen miserable, towering prodigies to step into the lantern light. "I’m a supplier. And I believe I have brought your Madam the finest, premium-grade, unrefined Yang energy this continent has seen in three centuries. Tell your boss I want an appraisal."

The gatekeepers’ eyes snapped to the merchandise.

They saw Gu Zhiwei’s bulging pectorals, Lu Jianheng’s tragic cheekbones, Xie Wangchen’s devastating, icy perfection.

The women’s jaws practically unhinged.

The density of the Yang energy rolling off the captives was enough to make the air vibrate.

"Wait here," the gatekeeper gasped, her hostility evaporating into thirst as she scrambled through the gates to fetch her superior.

Ten minutes later, the massive crimson doors slowly groaned open.

Stepping out from the opulent courtyard was the leader of the Crimson Lotus Pavilion. Madam Rouge.

She was a towering, statuesque woman draped in layers of dark red spider-silk.

She possessed a terrifying, overwhelming aura of Peak Nascent Soul cultivation, her beauty sharp, mature, and dripping with lethal seduction.

She walked with the slow, deliberate sway of an apex predator assessing a buffet.

"My guards tell me a wandering merchant has brought a king’s ransom to my doorstep," Madam Rouge purred, her voice like warm honey over broken glass.

She stopped a few feet from Ji’an, her dark, heavily painted eyes sweeping over the bound boys.

"I don’t deal in copper, Madam," Ji’an swaggered, stepping forward, entirely un-intimidated. She gestured to her boys with the flair of a seasoned car salesman.

"Look at this inventory. This one here?" Ji’an patted Gu Zhiwei’s trembling shoulder. "Pure holy light. A constitution that could withstand a mountain collapsing. And this one?" She gestured to Jianheng, who looked like he was fighting the urge to vomit. "Sword Peak aristocracy. Refined, cold, deeply repressed energy. The flavor profile is exquisite."

Ji’an crossed her arms, offering her most devastating, sleazy smile.

"I’m looking to offload the entire lot. I’ll give you a bulk discount if we can finalize the transaction quickly."

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