The night draped itself across the Blackflame Domain like a funeral shroud. The crimson skies of day had faded into a suffocating blanket of darkness, broken only by the faint glow of firecrystals embedded in the stone streets. The Lian Family's fortress loomed like a mountain at the heart of the city, its obsidian spires stabbing into the heavens, its walls etched with scars from centuries of bloodshed.
Within one of the fortress's countless chambers, Lian Zhen sat cross-legged on a blackstone bed, his breathing calm on the surface but his mind churning beneath. His body still ached from the Bloodstone trial earlier that day, though the phantom touch of Shadow Maiden Yue's power lingered like a whisper on his skin.
It wasn't the pain that unsettled him—it was the knowledge of what dwelled inside him.
One hundred thousand villains.
Each sealed, waiting. Watching.
And the system that bound them to his soul pulsed quietly, like a heart in the dark.
[Quest Generated: The First Villain's Trial] Objective: Ensure your dominance within the clan by proving your cunning. Manipulate a rival, sabotage their standing, or seize their opportunity. Reward: Unlock 20 Villain Archives. Penalty: Loss of system synchronization for 7 days.
Zhen's brows knit together as he read the glowing blue screen hovering before his eyes.
"So soon?" he muttered. "I've barely had time to breathe."
The System did not answer. It never did, beyond its prompts. Silent. Cold. Demanding.
He clenched his fists. On Earth, he had devoured countless novels with protagonists who were showered with gifts by benevolent systems. They were chosen, they were special, their path was lit. But this… this was different. The Villains System was no doting guardian. It was a forge—and he was the ore being hammered into shape.
The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts. The stone door ground open, and a servant bowed low.
"Young Master Zhen, the Patriarch summons you to the council chambers. Immediately."
Zhen exhaled slowly, standing with the faintest smile. "So it begins."
The council chamber was vast, its ceiling lost in shadows, its walls lined with massive braziers whose flames danced with unnatural colors—violet, green, and deep scarlet. Rows of elders in dark robes sat in judgment, their eyes cold, predatory. At the far end, upon the high obsidian throne, sat Patriarch Lian Xu, his presence crushing, his gaze sharper than any blade.
Zhen walked forward, his steps steady despite the weight of so many eyes. He bowed deeply.
"Father. Elders."
Patriarch Xu's voice thundered. "Lian Zhen. Today you proved your bloodline before the altar. But blood alone is not enough. In our family, strength must be sharpened not only with power, but with cunning. Thus, you shall be tested again."
An elder rose from his seat, his face pale, lined with cruel wisdom. "You are not the only youth vying for recognition. Tomorrow, the young elites shall compete for the right to represent the clan at the upcoming Shadow Hunt. Victory in this contest brings prestige, resources, and the elders' favor."
Zhen's eyes narrowed. "And my task is to win it?"
"No," the elder corrected, a thin smile playing at his lips. "Your task is to ensure another does not."
A murmur swept through the chamber. Zhen's gaze sharpened. "Who?"
Another elder spoke, his tone biting. "Lian Rong. The second branch's prodigy. Strong, talented, and favored by many. He is your rival. If he rises, your path dims. If he falls, your star may yet shine."
Patriarch Xu's eyes bored into his. "Do not disappoint me. Leave no trace of your hand, but ensure his failure."
The command fell like a blade.
Zhen bowed again, hiding the flicker of a grin.
Back in the silence of his chambers, the System chimed once more.
[Sub-Quest: Sabotage Lian Rong's preparation for the Shadow Hunt.] Reward: Unlock 10 Villain Archives.
Zhen leaned back against the stone wall, chuckling softly. "So this is the kind of path you want me to walk…"
He closed his eyes—and in that darkness, the doors of the System Space began to stir.
The Poison Monarch slithered out of the void, his crimson gaze glimmering with cruel amusement. "Sabotage, is it? How delightful. I could lace his cultivation pills with venom so subtle it mimics exhaustion. By the time he realizes, it will be too late."
From another shadow, Kongtu, the Slayer of Heroes, stepped forth, his halberd gleaming with phantom blood. "Hah! Why waste time with tricks? Strike him down before the contest begins. Fear is the truest path to dominance."
And then, from the edges of the void, Shadow Maiden Yue appeared, her figure veiled in smoke. Her voice was cold, like silk sliding over a dagger. "No. Kill a rival too soon, and the clan turns its gaze upon you. Sabotage leaves whispers, not corpses. Use misdirection. Manipulate. Let him fall by his own feet, while you stand untouched."
The villains' voices clawed at his mind, each tempting him with a different path. Zhen pressed a hand to his temple, breathing hard.
But then, clarity.
Subtlety. For now.
He smirked. "Shadow Maiden, your way seems best."
The night grew deeper. Cloaked in silence, Zhen moved through the Lian fortress like a shadow. The knowledge of the clan's layout wasn't his, but the body he inhabited carried memories that guided his steps instinctively.
Soon, he arrived at the training courtyard reserved for the younger generation. Beyond its gates, faint lights glimmered. He crept closer.
Inside, Lian Rong stood at the center, his tall frame exuding confidence. Sweat drenched his robes as he practiced his sword forms under the watch of his retainers. Each strike was precise, powerful, filled with talent that could not be denied.
Zhen watched from the shadows, his lips curling. "Truly, you shine brightly. All the better to snuff you out."
He slipped away silently, heading toward Rong's quarters. The room was grand, filled with treasures and resources. On a table lay an ornate jade box—the source of Rong's confidence. Inside were his preparation pills, crafted by one of the clan's best alchemists.
The Poison Monarch's laughter echoed in Zhen's mind. "Such trust, leaving them unguarded. Allow me."
Zhen hesitated. "If I use venom, won't they discover it?"
The Poison Monarch's eyes gleamed. "Not if the venom mimics the body's own weakness. To the elders, it will seem that he exhausted himself foolishly in training."
Zhen's lips twitched. "…Do it."
A surge of knowledge flowed into him, foreign yet intoxicating. With trembling fingers, he guided threads of shadow-tinged venom into the pills, so fine that even an alchemist would dismiss it as natural impurity.
When he stepped back, the jade box gleamed innocently, untouched.
The deed was done.
The next day, the training grounds thundered with energy. Youths of the clan gathered, their eyes sharp with ambition. Elders lined the stands, their scrutiny heavy. At the center, the Patriarch sat, his gaze like a storm.
Zhen stood among the competitors, calm, composed.
Lian Rong strode forward, radiating confidence. His aura blazed, his presence commanding. But even as the contest began, Zhen's eyes caught the faintest flicker—the tightening of Rong's jaw, the subtle twitch in his stance.
The poisoned pills had begun their work.
Round after round, Rong fought valiantly, but each strike grew slower, each defense weaker. Sweat poured from his brow. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"What's happening to him?"
"He was so strong yesterday…"
By the third round, Rong collapsed to his knees, gasping, unable to rise. The elders' faces twisted in disappointment. His retainers rushed forward, but the Patriarch raised a hand, stopping them.
"Pathetic," he spat coldly. "Such weakness has no place in the Shadow Hunt."
Gasps filled the air. Rong's fate was sealed.
And in the shadows, Zhen smiled.
[Quest Complete: The First Villain's Trial.] Reward: 20 Villain Archives Unlocked.
The System chimed in his mind, and with it came the laughter of countless villains, echoing, praising, demanding more.
Zhen lowered his gaze, hiding the glint of darkness in his eyes.
So this is how it begins. Not with open slaughter, but with whispers, shadows, and unseen hands.
One step taken. One rival fallen. And many more to come.