I Really Am A Villain

He slowly exhaled a long breath.

The redness on his face faded bit by bit. The flames receded, and Xu Zimo’s eyes were as bright as twin torches.

“This Fire God Ancient Dao truly is tyrannical,” Xu Zimo murmured to himself as he cultivated with the Flame of Zhurong.

As he breathed out, a stream of white mist flowed through his meridians and exited from his mouth.

When he looked up again, daylight had already broken outside.

Xu Zimo rose from the bed and opened the door. The flaming tree in the courtyard still burned ceaselessly, its crimson branches crackling softly.

In the courtyard, someone was already seated, though Xu Zimo hadn’t noticed when that person had arrived.

A young man sat in the pavilion, holding a black stone in his right hand and a white one in his left, playing a game of chess against himself.

“Good morning, brother,” the young man said with a smile.

“Morning,” Xu Zimo replied evenly, yawning once.

“Would you care for a game?” the youth asked, gesturing toward the board.

Xu Zimo smiled faintly and sat down across from him.

“Chess is like life. Please, you take the first move,” the youth said.

“White pieces are like dragons, dragons soar to the heavens, serpents crawl upon the earth,” Xu Zimo said as he placed a white piece forward.

“Then black coils from behind; even serpents can swallow dragons,” the youth countered, dropping a black stone. “Human desire is endless, if serpents can swallow elephants, why not dragons?”

“A serpent that cultivates for ten thousand years becomes a python, then a dragon. Why not indeed?”

Their words quickened, and their hands moved faster and faster. Stones clattered against the board in a rhythmic storm.

Soon the board was filled with pieces, black and white locked in fierce struggle.

Xu Zimo placed his next stone squarely in the center.

“Dragon and serpent may both roam the nine heavens,” he said calmly, “but I am the heavens. Dragon and serpent alike are within my grasp.”

The piece landed with a crisp click. The killing tension that had filled the board suddenly shifted.

White surrounded black completely, forming the image of a dragon devouring a serpent.

“You’ve lost,” Xu Zimo said quietly.

“Thank you for your instruction, brother,” the youth said, rising and cupping his fists in salute.

“You came here just to play chess with me?” Xu Zimo asked.

“My original intent was to challenge you,” the youth said with a grin. “But since I’ve already lost this game, I’ve no face to challenge you again. I’ll take my leave.”

He turned to go, but halfway down the path he stopped and said over his shoulder, “Oh, by the way, your friend’s been challenged. You might want to check on him.”

“Xie Changliu?” Xu Zimo asked.

“I don’t know his name,” the young man shrugged. “He’s on the academy’s battlefield.”

Watching the youth’s fading figure, Xu Zimo frowned slightly.

No matter where he went, there were always people eager to test his limits with their ignorance.

Leaving the courtyard, he asked for directions along the way and soon made for the battlefield.

The battlefield of the Seven Gods Collegium wasn’t difficult to find. After about ten minutes’ walk, Xu Zimo saw an imposing grand hall ahead.

Above its entrance hung a massive plaque inscribed with two bold characters: Battle Intent.

Even from afar, one could feel the surging will to fight radiating from it.

On the great doors were two bronze lion heads serving as handles. From within them came faint, echoing lion roars.

Before Xu Zimo even entered, he could already hear the shouts and cheers from inside.

He grasped the two lion-head handles and pulled. The tightly closed doors came loose instantly, he tore them right off their hinges and tossed them aside.

Ahead stretched a long corridor.

On either side stood racks upon racks of weapons, blades, spears, staves, and halberds of every kind.

He walked straight through, and the space ahead suddenly opened wide.

The battlefield truly lived up to its name, it was a real battlefield.

It stretched endlessly into the distance, nothing but yellow sands and the faint outlines of buried bones beneath.

This place must once have been a true war ground, now converted by the academy into a training field.

“Hit him! Nice hit!”

“Ghost Three, don’t you dare lose! We can’t afford that shame!”

From a distance came loud shouting and jeering.

Xu Zimo followed the noise. Soon, he saw a crowd, hundreds of students in white robes gathered in a wide circle.

He stepped forward, pushing through the crowd until he reached the inner ring.

In the center, two men were locked in fierce combat.

One was a burly, overweight youth wielding a meteor hammer, his strength immense.

The other was Xie Changliu.

Xie Changliu was clearly exhausted, his body marked by several wounds. But his eyes were sharp as blades, and the sword aura around him only grew fiercer the longer he fought.

Xu Zimo glanced around and noticed several other students lying injured on the ground, bleeding heavily.

He understood immediately, these people were taking turns fighting Xie Changliu in a war of attrition.

If this continued, Xie wouldn’t last much longer.

After all, every one of these academy students was a prodigy of the Seven Gods Collegium.

Xie Changliu was strong, but he was not yet a Grand Emperor. Against someone like Hong Yu earlier, he’d already been outmatched.

In the field, the fat youth, Ghost Three, swung his meteor hammer with tremendous force, each strike howling through the air.

Xie Changliu, weaker in strength, retreated step by step. Yet his gaze stayed locked on his opponent, unyielding.

“What’s wrong? Gonna keep turtling like a coward?” Ghost Three laughed mockingly. “You might as well just admit defeat.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Xie Changliu’s eyes flashed.

“Strike!” he shouted.

His longsword whipped out like a viper, winding past the meteor hammer and stabbing straight into Ghost Three’s abdomen.

“You!” the fat youth gasped, staring in disbelief.

“You were too careless,” Xie Changliu said coolly. “In battle, those who split their focus are already dead.”

“I’m not convinced! Let’s fight again!” Ghost Three roared, unwilling to accept defeat.

“If this weren’t a friendly match, you’d already be a corpse,” Xie said coldly, withdrawing his sword.

“You!” Ghost Three began, but a calm voice interrupted.

“Stand down. A bet is a bet.”

A young man stepped out from among the crowd.

He wore a simple blue-green robe, and on his forehead was a sun-shaped mark.

His eyes radiated a quiet authority, no anger, yet full of power.

At his words, Ghost Three backed away immediately.

“The name ‘Sword God’ truly isn’t empty,” the young man said with a faint smile. “My junior brothers are indeed no match for you.”

“I am Tian Yiqing. Might I ask for a bout myself?”

The crowd fell silent at once.

They too knew, ganging up in a group fight wasn’t honorable.

But neither could they afford another loss.

Xie Changliu’s hand tightened on his sword. He knew his condition, he had no strength left. If he fought now, he’d lose.

But the pride of a swordsman would never allow retreat.

“Fight,” Xie said firmly, his voice steady and ringing.

“Changliu, rest for a while,” came a light, amused voice from the crowd.

Everyone turned to look.

Xu Zimo walked out slowly, smiling.

“If you want to spar,” he said, “I’ll practice with you.”

TL Note: The ‘Path of Zhurong’ will now be called ‘Fire God Ancient Dao’.