I Really Am A Villain

Leaving White Emperor City, the heavenly staircase beneath their feet stretched endlessly toward the distant horizon. There were countless steps, densely packed and ascending into the clouds. Standing before it, everyone felt an overwhelming sense of awe, as though they were standing at the very peak of the world.

Dozens of servants carried offerings in their hands, standing at the base of the staircase. As the celestial path descended little by little, it aligned perfectly with the earth.

Chu Feiyang led the procession downward from the sky, following behind the group of attendants carrying offerings.

Walking at the rear were Xu Zimo and Feng Buxiu. Along the way, Feng Buxiu explained, “The ritual of worship is the most important ceremony of White Emperor Mountain. To enter the mountain, one must first pay tribute. If anyone angers the White Emperor, then no one will be able to pass.”

“The White Emperor has already departed, hasn’t he? How could such a thing still matter?” Xu Zimo asked curiously.

“There are many inexplicable things in this world,” Feng Buxiu replied. “We’ve long suspected that something within White Emperor Mountain still governs it. But we’ve never found any proof.”

“Then we’ll find out once we get there,” Xu Zimo nodded.

After all, he had never seen White Emperor Mountain before, and speculation meant little without firsthand experience.

The group left White Emperor City, traveling westward. After walking for about ten minutes, they arrived at a verdant peak, but advancing any farther was difficult. In front of the mountain stood an ancient stone gate, encircled by walls over ten meters high, resembling the boundary of an ancient tomb. Though time had aged its surface, the walls stood solid and imposing, exuding an ancient weight.

Chu Feiyang walked to the front, knocked twice on the gate, and pushed it open.

Inside, the place was overgrown with weeds. Towering pines, thick as giants, rose in the middle of what looked like a vast cemetery. Directly ahead stood a nameless stone stele.

“Chu Feiyang, 113th-generation descendant of the Chu Heavenly Clan, 38th Patriarch of the clan, comes to pay homage to the White Emperor!”

Chu Feiyang’s voice echoed as he placed both hands on the stele.

The stele began to distort, twisting the surrounding space along with it.

“Offer the tributes!” Chu Feiyang commanded.

The servants lifted the red cloths covering the trays they carried and cast the offerings into the swirling stele. As more items were thrown in, the distortion deepened, forming a vortex so vast that it seemed bottomless.

After dozens of minutes, when every offering had been delivered, Chu Feiyang shouted again, “Everyone, kneel!”

He dropped to his knees first, facing the stele. The rest followed, every sect, every academy, even the strongest among them, none dared to remain standing.

Amid the crowd of kneeling figures, only Xu Zimo stood motionless. Feng Buxiu grew anxious.

“Kneel! Don’t offend the ritual!” he whispered urgently, tugging at Xu Zimo’s robe.

“In my life, there are few I should kneel to,” Xu Zimo said calmly. “Aside from my parents, neither heaven nor earth deserve my bow.”

“You…” Feng Buxiu sighed helplessly, knowing there was nothing he could say to change his mind.

As everyone else bowed, a powerful force erupted from the stele. It surged outward, vast enough to erase everything in its path, sweeping through the void like a tidal wave.

The pressure was immense, so much so that everyone instinctively lowered their heads.

A fierce wind howled, lifting Xu Zimo’s black hair around him.

“Offend the White Emperor, and die!”

A furious roar echoed from the void, and in the next moment, an overwhelming force enveloped Xu Zimo completely.

When his consciousness returned, he found himself standing in a boundless, gray void.

Two crimson eyes glared at him from the darkness.

“Everyone else knelt before the White Emperor. Why didn’t you?” a thunderous voice demanded, reverberating endlessly through the empty space.

“Others are others,” Xu Zimo replied steadily. “I am myself. Why should I kneel?”

“When the White Emperor waged war across the realms, you were not even a child. Should you not bow before your elder?” the voice retorted.

“You and I are strangers,” Xu Zimo said evenly. “How do you know what I was in those days?”

As he spoke, he scanned the strange void around him, but its structure was beyond his comprehension. Whatever this space was, it belonged to a power he had yet to encounter.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” the hidden voice warned. “Kneel and repent. Refuse, and die.”

“Try me,” Xu Zimo said, narrowing his eyes.

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire space erupted into chaos. Power surged from every direction, converging before those blood-red eyes. The pressure was apocalyptic, worlds crumbling, the heavens splitting apart.

“Boy, will you kneel or not?!” the voice thundered again.

Xu Zimo didn’t answer. Instead, his weapon, Shadow Tyrant, burst forth with blinding light. The blade, carrying the will of countless beings, cut through half the void.

There was a deafening boom, as though the strike had hit something solid.

Then came a yelp.

“Ow!”

A small figure tumbled out of the air, rubbing its head and backside. Xu Zimo looked closer and saw a bald child, seven or eight years old, wearing a red bellyband. Gold rings adorned his wrists, ankles, and neck.

“Hmph. A snot-nosed brat,” Xu Zimo remarked.

“You’re the snot-nosed one! I’m just… not fully matured!” the child snapped. “I’m tens of thousands of years old, I’ll have you know!”

“Enough, child. Step back,” came a calm, amused voice nearby.

“I told you, you wouldn’t scare him,” the new voice said lightly.

“I just wanted to spook him a little. He didn’t have to hit me that hard,” the boy muttered, retreating a few steps.

Xu Zimo looked up and saw a man in scholar’s robes approaching from the distance.

The man’s robe was covered in ancient, indecipherable symbols. He had a handsome, dignified face, sharp brows, bright eyes. Though his presence exuded no oppressive aura, he somehow felt like the center of the world.

“Young man, you’re quite impressive,” the scholar said with clear admiration.

“And you are…?” Xu Zimo asked cautiously.

“Here, within White Emperor Mountain, who else do you think I could be?” the man replied.

“The White Emperor,” Xu Zimo realized immediately.

“Indeed,” the man nodded with a faint smile, acknowledging it. “You’re calmer than I expected. And your eyes… they’re far more interesting than I imagined.”

“You haven’t left?” Xu Zimo asked.