I Really Am A Villain

“Thunder Snake, you’re still alive,” Sima Yan said with a frown.

“If you’re not dead, how could I have the nerve to die?” the old man named Thunder Snake replied with a faint smile.

On his purple robe, streaks of violet lightning slithered like living serpents. The arcs of electricity didn’t appear very powerful, but their presence made the air tremble, they carried a terrifying energy hidden beneath the surface.

“I didn’t expect you to be living within the Seven Gods Collegium,” Sima Yan said coldly.

“Do I need to report to you where I live?” Thunder Snake said evenly. “For the sake of your Three Divisions, I’ll overlook this once. Leave now while you still can.”

“Thunder Snake, you understand the consequences of provoking the Three Divisions, don’t you?” Sima Yan asked, his eyes narrowing.

“What, is that a threat?” Thunder Snake replied indifferently. “I know your Three Divisions are powerful, but the Seven Gods Collegium has a long history, there are still those capable of opposing you.”

“Very well, I’ll remember this,” Sima Yan said coldly. “This matter isn’t over.”

He raised his hand, and the icebird’s corpse that had fallen into the ravine suddenly trembled and rose again.

With a piercing screech, the icebird’s wings spread wide, and it ascended into the sky once more.

Sima Yan stepped onto its back and slowly disappeared into the void.

“He’s far too arrogant,” one of the elders muttered. “He really thinks the name of the Three Divisions alone can make us bow our heads?”

“The Three Divisions cannot act with impunity,” another said. “And this is No-Sea Region, we’re not under their authority.”

The group exchanged a few remarks, but Xu Zimo could tell that both Thunder Snake and Feng Buxiu wore troubled expressions. Despite their composure, worry shadowed their faces. Clearly, the Three Divisions were not to be taken lightly.

“Young Master Xu, let’s go,” Feng Buxiu said after taking a deep breath.

“Be extremely careful,” Thunder Snake warned.

He gave Xu Zimo a final look before his figure slowly faded into the void.

Feng Buxiu once again channeled spatial power, opening the teleportation gate.

The five of them stepped through together.

Within the spatial passage, Feng Buxiu took out several sheets of parchment and handed them to Xu Zimo.

Glancing at them, Xu Zimo realized they contained information about the opponents in the upcoming tournament.

“You’ll want to pay special attention to this one, the Desolate Temple,” Feng Buxiu said. “According to our intelligence, their current prodigy is the reincarnation of the Wrathful Bodhisattva. His name is Wrathful Emperor. Eighteen days ago, he single-handedly stormed Primal Monastery. The temple’s eighteen guardian monks were all defeated with a single strike. Even their patriarch could not detain him. It’s said he resonated with one of the temple’s Bodhisattvas, merging himself with divine wrath, his strength is extraordinary.”

“And then there’s Crimson Soaring Emperor from Martial Blade Collegium,” Feng Buxiu continued. “He has already declared his imperial title, and it has been acknowledged.”

“Acknowledged?” Xu Zimo asked, puzzled.

“You don’t know?” Feng Buxiu replied. “In this world, every Saint Sovereign and Grand Emperor must have their titles tested and approved. If recognized, Heaven and Earth themselves respond, spiritual rain descends, celestial omens resound, and all creation bears witness. That is how the title of a Grand Emperor is sanctified, honored by both mortals and gods alike.”

“I see,” Xu Zimo nodded.

“Be cautious. The Five Great Sects and the two other academies all have formidable contenders,” Feng Buxiu said gravely.

“What about the Ghost God Collegium?” Xu Zimo asked.

“Didn’t Hong Yu already scare all their so-called ‘Nine Ghost Princes’ into submission?”

“The so-called Nine Ghost Princes are merely creations of the academy itself, hardly worth mentioning,” Feng Buxiu said disdainfully. “But the Nine Ghost Gods themselves certainly have chosen successors. It’s likely their personally trained disciples will participate this time.”

“If the Ghost Gods train their own heirs, why does the academy still create its own Nine Ghost Princes?” Xu Zimo asked.

“Survival of the fittest,” Feng Buxiu said simply. “Competition breeds progress.”

Xu Zimo nodded slightly in understanding.

“This competition will be held on White Emperor Mountain?” he asked.

“In White Emperor City,” Feng Buxiu corrected. “The contest will be overseen and judged by the Chu Heavenly Clan, they have the final say.”

“What’s their background?” Xu Zimo asked curiously.

“Their ancestor, Chu Kuangren, was a close friend of the White Emperor,” Feng Buxiu explained. “When the White Emperor departed, he entrusted both the mountain and the city to the Chu Heavenly Clan. Though the Chu Heavenly Clan is powerful, they can’t compare to the great sects. Still, out of respect for Chu Kuangren, no one dares defy them. It’s said that Chu Kuangren still resides within the Chu Heavenly Clan to this day.”

“I see,” Xu Zimo said thoughtfully, realizing this journey would not be a simple one.

Ghost-God Heaven was nothing like Mortal Ascension Heaven, there were far too many powerful beings here, many capable of standing against him.

Yet Xu Zimo felt no fear. The road ahead might be long and thorny, but that only made it more interesting.

After all, what fun was there in a path without challenge?

All true powerhouses walk alone.

After several days within the spatial passage, a flash of white light appeared before them.

The portal opened, and the group stepped out into an enormous plaza.

However, this plaza was not within a city, it sat atop a towering mountain peak.

As soon as they arrived, countless figures appeared around them.

White Emperor City was one of the largest in the Half-Grave Region, so the bustling crowds were unsurprising.

Noise filled the air immediately as the crowd began to chatter.

“Look,” Feng Buxiu said, pointing. “That is White Emperor City, and over there is White Emperor Mountain.”

It was clear he was familiar with the area.

Xu Zimo looked toward the distance, where a massive city floated in midair.

The city stretched beyond sight, vast, magnificent, and awe-inspiring, with a surreal, almost otherworldly aura.

Its endless walls twisted like coiling dragons, their heads and tails vanishing into the distant horizon.

Millions of towering spires pierced the clouds, and celestial springs flowed through the streets. Heavenly lights flickered across the heavens above, bathing the city in mystery and divinity.

Turning his gaze toward White Emperor Mountain, Xu Zimo saw a towering peak veiled in mist.

Some unseen force shrouded it completely, no matter how hard he tried, he could not see through.

A line of poetry came to his mind.

“Because I dwell within the mountain, I cannot see its true face.”

“Come,” Feng Buxiu said with a smile. “The scenery of White Emperor Mountain can only be appreciated from within, not from without.”

He led the group down the mountain path, which was smooth and well-crafted, clearly built by expert hands.

After some time, they reached the gates of White Emperor City.

The city gates were grand and imposing, but what drew even more attention was the monumental stone stele standing before them.

Upon it was carved a poem.

I am Madman Chu, singing to mock immortals and gods. Sword of Madness in hand, I take my leave from White Emperor City.

The poem seemed to radiate madness and defiance, as though carved not by a hand but by a soul overflowing with passion.

Its aura was so overwhelming that no one dared gaze upon it for long.