I Really Am A Villain

“What kind of Primal Dao do you want? I can give you any,” Xu Zimo said indifferently.

Bones were by nature a force of death and gloom. Though they feared no flame, lightning was the most masculine and righteous force under heaven, their ultimate nemesis.

Thunder raged across the sky, and streaks of bluish light crackled violently, flashing like the scythe of death itself. Purple lightning arcs leapt through the air, each one making the heart tremble.

“Damn it! Let me out!” the Bone King screamed from within the prison of lightning, his voice filled with agony and rage.

Xu Zimo paid him no mind. He snapped his fingers, and the thunder exploded. Both lightning and the Bone King’s body were reduced to dust, annihilated in an instant.

Then came a heavy rumble, thunderous footsteps pounding the ground.

The Rat King emerged from his lair, leading an army of skeletons. He carried a massive spiked mace on his shoulder, its barbs gleaming with cold light and exuding a suffocating aura.

“Which fool dares cause trouble in my domain?” the Rat King bellowed arrogantly.

When he finally stood before Xu Zimo, his towering body loomed like a mountain-sized rat, looking down from above.

“A mere human, trespassing in our God Valley of Buried Souls?” The Rat King sneered, raising his mace without another word and smashing it down toward Xu Zimo.

The impact alone, just the sound, shattered countless bones around them.

Blade and mace collided. Waves of power rippled outward, shaking the earth.

The two figures separated. The Rat King looked at his weapon and saw a faint blade mark carved into its surface.

“What a formidable blade,” he muttered coldly.

His beady eyes rolled, whiskers twitching sharply. He raised the mace again and charged.

Xu Zimo laughed softly. The Rat King possessed great strength, but his massive, bloated body made every movement sluggish.

Spotting his opening, Xu Zimo stepped in close. Shadow Tyrant, wreathed in fierce flames, stabbed straight forward, piercing the Rat King squarely in the rear.

A scream that could shake the heavens tore through the forest of bones.

The Rat King leapt several dozen meters high, howling, “You little brat, you fight dirty!”

“All’s fair in battle,” Xu Zimo smiled.

He lifted his blade again, releasing another arc of burning energy. A deafening explosion followed as the Rat King was blasted backward through the air.

“Meteorfall Rod!” the Rat King shrieked from above.

The spiked mace in his hand began to glow, falling like a meteor shower, every swing leaving streaks of burning light.

His movements grew smoother, faster, each strike crashing down like a comet. The ground caved in under the force, riddled with craters.

The storm of mace strikes was suffocatingly dense, tearing apart everything in its path. Xu Zimo retreated quickly, eyes narrowing, gauging his rhythm.

Then he struck.

Shadow Tyrant darted forward, sliding perfectly into the narrow gap between the mace’s spinning arcs.

The weapon’s momentum froze for a split second, just enough. Xu Zimo’s advance didn’t slow. His blade thrust forward again.

A sharp boom! echoed. The blade pierced straight into the Rat King’s chest.

Green blood spilled down, thick with rot and decay. But Shadow Tyrant was uncorrupted, it churned inside the wound, slicing the Rat King apart from within.

“Let’s test that technique, Eightfold Heaven-Splitting,” Xu Zimo murmured.

An explosion of blade intent surged from within him, tearing the air itself.

The small blade left behind by Lu Sheng flew out, diving straight into the Rat King’s body.

Unstoppable. Indestructible.

Blinding light erupted from within, bursting through the Rat King’s flesh. The cutting aura could have cleaved the heavens themselves.

The Rat King’s face froze in horror. Time seemed to stop.

Then, only light. Endless, blinding light and the overwhelming force of the Heaven-Splitting Blade Intent.

The forest of bones trembled violently as the light flashed across it, illuminating the entire grove before fading away.

When the brightness vanished, there was no trace of the Rat King, only Xu Zimo standing silently amidst the ruin.

As he walked forward, each step echoed like the footsteps of death itself.

The bone demons scattered in panic, trampling over each other in their desperate flight, many were crushed underfoot.

“These things ruled the God Valley of Buried Souls?” Xu Zimo said, frowning in mild disbelief.

But almost as if in answer to his doubt, a gust of sinister wind swept through the valley.

The air turned dark. Sand and stones whirled violently as the sky dimmed to pitch black.

The evil wind surrounded Xu Zimo, his long black hair whipping wildly in the storm.

The fleeing skeletons were caught up by the wind, lifted screaming into the air.

Living bones, broken bones, all were swept together, mingling in the raging current.

Black wind and white bone interwove, forming a suffocating cyclone that trapped Xu Zimo within.

Then a commanding voice echoed through the darkness.

“Seal!”

The air itself shifted, space twisting around him.

“A formation,” Xu Zimo murmured.

Within the storm, bones gathered and fused.

“The Twenty-Eight Fiends Netherworld Formation,” the voice intoned again.

Murderous energy thickened above, while the sound of flowing water, eerily like the River of the Dead, whispered faintly in the wind.

“Since you’ve come to the God Valley of Buried Souls,” the voice said mockingly, “why not test the power of my formation?”

“It’s a fine formation,” Xu Zimo said lightly. “A pity…”

He raised his left hand, the Heaven-Derivation Astrolabe appeared. In his right, the Traceless Compass spun freely.

Between the two godly artifacts, few places in the world could truly bar his path.

The twin star compasses hovered above him, rotating together. Constellations, trigrams, and the cosmic patterns of heaven and earth shifted in unison.

Xu Zimo began to walk forward.

To ordinary eyes, his steps seemed unhurried and calm. But to those versed in the Dao of Formations, every stride carried profound rhythm, each footfall tracing the flow of cosmic geometry.

Formations could change infinitely, yet his every step adjusted precisely in response, unraveling their secrets.

Even a Formation Master could not move with such flawless precision.

As he stepped into the howling darkness, the fiendish energy surged toward him.

He took another step, exactly enough to evade the oncoming strike.

No matter how vicious the formation became, Xu Zimo advanced calmly. The evil wind could not touch him; the River of Death did not stain his robes.

Behind him, the formation roared in fury, its deathly energy collapsing upon itself.

Then, emerging from the gloom, he saw a few ancient trees ahead.

Upon their branches perched black crows, their feathers glinting coldly as they stared down at him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a powerful being,” one of the crows croaked, speaking with a human voice.

“Why hide behind a puppet?” Xu Zimo replied evenly. “Show yourself.”

He could tell, the crow wasn’t the mastermind. It was merely a vessel, a mouthpiece.

The true hand behind the curtain remained unseen.