Rise of the True Villain
in one of the many parallel worlds, the Eastern Daxia Sea, Sullivan Estate. s s s s s
Valent Sullivan stood before the towering glass pane that framed the morning sky like a portrait. Beyond the window, the entire Sullivan Estate stretched wide and serene, an ocean of cultivated elegance. The gardens were meticulously trimmed; each hedge sculpted to symmetry. A silver lake glimmered faintly as the first rays of sunlight scattered across its surface. Rows of cherry blossoms swayed in a soft breeze, their delicate petals drifting in the air like pale pink snow.
It was an idyllic paradise.
Yet to Valent, it felt suffocatingly unreal.
The reflection staring back at him wasn’t the man he knew. It wasn’t Ciel—the shadowy fugitive who once roamed countless worlds, the man whose whispered name made assassins hesitate and tyrants lose sleep. No. The reflection had softer eyes, gentler shoulders, and a face accustomed to comfort.
Valent Sullivan. The pampered young master destined to be crushed by fate.
Valent’s pulse thundered, loud enough to drown the quiet morning. A faint tremor ran through his fingers as shock, disbelief, and a creeping sense of dread churned violently in his chest. Though he tried, he could not steady his breathing. Reality slammed into him again and again, each time harder than before.
He had transmigrated.
Into a story.
Worse—into **Return of the God of War**, the over-the-top power-fantasy web novel he once mocked for its terrible writing and paper-thin logic. Back then, he had laughed at its ridiculous plot twists, its impossible power jumps, its convenient miracles.
But nothing was funny now.
Because he wasn’t the hero.
He wasn't even a side character.
He was **the villain**.
No—he was the stepping stone. The spoiled young master whose sole purpose was to be humiliated, defeated, and destroyed so the protagonist, Chu Fan, could shine brighter.
Valent squeezed his eyes shut as memories of the novel’s storyline crashed into him like wave after unforgiving wave. Chu Fan—the King of the Underworld, the master of Nether Palace, the Son of Destiny—returned from obscurity to dominate the East Daxia Sea. With impossible strength, near-immortal luck, and an army of assassins who worshiped him, Chu Fan crushed every enemy that dared stand in his way.
Every villain.
Every obstacle.
Every name that appeared in red ink within the author’s notes.
Valent Sullivan had been one of the earliest villains.
And one of the weakest.
He let out a bitter laugh. “Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Did the author even think when he wrote this mess?”
Images flickered in his mind with painful clarity.
His parents—killed in the prologue for cheap emotional impact.
His reputation—destroyed because the protagonist needed a contrast.
His wealth—slowly stripped away to build Chu Fan’s rise.
And worst of all—
Adelia Sullivan.
His stepsister.
A naïve and lovestruck girl who fell head-first into Chu Fan’s charm and betrayed the Sullivan family in the most pathetic way possible. She handed Chu Fan every secret, every treasure, every resource the family possessed. She helped him destroy her own brother. She even participated in their parents’ deaths.
All because the protagonist smiled at her.
Valent rubbed his forehead, the beginnings of a headache pounding beneath his skin. “Why,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “of all the worlds I could’ve transmigrated into… why this one?”
Then his mind returned to Valent’s original ending.
A scene so grotesque and vivid it made his stomach twist.
The failed schemes. The failed alliances. The failed assassinations.
Every attempt to oppose Chu Fan was reversed by protagonist luck—twisting events, bending coincidences, ensuring Chu Fan always benefited.
And the finale?
Valent, beaten and broken, dragged to a massive industrial metal crusher—his body tossed in like scrap. His bones shattered under grinding gears while Chu Fan and Adelia watched, smiling softly, as if witnessing a natural and justified end.
Back when Ciel read that scene, he had clapped.
“That’s what you get, trash.”
But now—now that he was Valent—
the thought of dying like that sent a cold shudder crawling up his spine.
“No,” he whispered.
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.
Absolutely not.
If there was one thing Ciel had mastered across lifetimes of surviving the impossible, it was adapting. He refused to be crushed by a machine—literally or figuratively.
“If I want to survive,” he whispered, “I have to change everything.”
Not slowly.
Immediately.
Yet the problem remained: Chu Fan was not just strong. He was protected—by the world itself. Destiny bent around him. Reality warped for him. Every misfortune became a miraculous opportunity. Every injury turned into a blessing.
Attempt to kill him?
He’d survive through coincidence.
Try to sabotage him?
The sabotage would backfire spectacularly.
Even if he fell off a cliff…
he would land in front of a hidden divine inheritance site.
How was Valent supposed to beat that?
His jaw tensed. A fire flickered in his chest—anger, defiance, something fierce and primal.
“No,” he said again, louder this time. “I refuse to be the same Valent who died like a dog.”
He had survived torture camps, bounty hunters, shadow clans, and immortal cultists. What was a protagonist with a shiny halo compared to that?
“If fate stands against me…” he murmured, voice icy, “then I’ll crush fate.”
“If the world wants to make me a stepping stone… I’ll shatter the path.”
“And if Chu Fan wants to bury me—then I’ll bury him first.”
The vow echoed through the silent room.
Then—
Ding.
A crisp metallic chime resonated directly inside his skull. Valent froze. He knew that sound. He had read enough transmigration novels to recognize it instantly.
A system.
“The host dares to oppose the Son of Destiny,” an emotionless voice declared. “Activating Villain System.”
Valent inhaled sharply. The air felt colder.
“Villain System successfully activated. Binding complete.”
His heart skipped a beat.
A system. His own cheat. Finally—finally—something that evened the playing field.
“What kind of system?” he asked sharply.
“The host,” the voice droned, “is the greatest villain in this world. By disrupting the Son of Destiny—stealing his opportunities, sabotaging major events, eliminating his allies, or defeating him—the host earns Villain Points.”
“These points can be exchanged for martial techniques, divine medicines, weapons, followers, or lottery draws.”
“No mandatory missions. No penalties for failure.”
“The host is granted Villain Aura. This aura counteracts protagonist luck. Eliminating the Son of Destiny will not incur heavenly punishment.”
Valent stared into empty air, stunned.
A system that counters protagonist luck.
A system that encourages him to steal the protagonist’s fate.
A system that protects him from the world’s backlash.
This wasn’t just a cheat.
It was the perfect anti-Chu Fan weapon.
A dark thrill coursed through his veins.
“So,” he whispered, lips curling, “I can finally hit back.”
His mind surged with possibilities—stealing fortuitous encounters, intercepting treasure sites, kidnapping key characters, manipulating destiny-triggered events. The future, once a death sentence, now gleamed with wicked potential.
“System,” he said, “what next?”
“As a welcome reward, host receives two advanced lottery draws. Use now?”
“Use them,” Valent commanded.
A glowing wheel manifested in his mind, spinning rapidly.
Click.
Ding.
“Congratulations. Heaven-Seizing Creation Pill obtained.”
A glowing pill materialized in his palm—warm, radiant.
“This pill purifies the body, strengthens meridians, improves constitution, and enhances natural talent.”
Valent didn’t hesitate. He swallowed it.
A tidal wave of heat exploded inside him. His muscles convulsed. Bones vibrated violently. Black impurities oozed from his pores, spilling onto the floor with a foul stench.
Yet beneath the discomfort, power surged. Clarity sharpened. His senses expanded.
He felt reborn.
“Second draw?” the system asked.
“Yes.”
The wheel spun again.
Click.
Ding.
“Congratulations. Blood-Knife Monk—Transforming Realm, mid-stage.”
Valent blinked. “A subordinate?”
“A ruthless cultivator loyal to host for life. Will arrive within one hour.”
A slow smile spread across Valent’s lips.
A Transforming Realm expert—so early in the story—was a monstrous advantage. Someone strong enough to rip steel apart and slaughter entire squads alone.
Perfect.
A villain needed the right minions.
He stepped into the bathroom. Warm water cascaded onto his skin, washing away the layer of black impurities. The filthy water spiraled down the drain like ink. As he cleaned himself, something in him shifted—subtly, powerfully.
Ciel’s cold pragmatism.
Valent’s desperation.
And the system’s villainous nature.
All fused into one.
When he emerged, he stood straighter, his aura heavier and colder. His reflection stared back with piercing sharpness.
A new life.
A new power.
A new purpose.
And Chu Fan—the Son of Destiny?
Valent’s smile was nothing short of predatory.
“I’ll tear your halo off your skull…” he murmured.
“…and make you choke on it.”
