I Really Am A Villain

“What does that place have to do with the Flowers of Death?” Thousand River asked again.

“It’s said that Sunflower was once the City of Life,” the leader explained. “But one night, all life there vanished without warning, and in its place, countless Flowers of Death bloomed. So, we suspect it may be the birthplace of those flowers.”

“Still, this is only speculation. Until we reach Sunflower City ourselves, we can’t be certain of anything.”

“Then why has no one noticed this before?” Thousand River asked skeptically.

“It used to be a ruined city,” the leader said with a shake of his head. “Some have gone to investigate before, but none ever found anything. We only learned of it this time because of rumors spreading from the Spectral Ghost Race, otherwise, we would never have thought to look there.”

“Kid,” one of the divine warriors said, glancing at Xu Zimo, “if you’ve got any other information, now’s the time to share it. It might increase your chances of staying alive.”

The group continued onward for a while. As the skies dimmed, they stopped, wary of traveling by night in the Ghost-God Heaven.

Each of them carried a tent, and once the camp was set up, everyone crawled inside, except for Xu Zimo, who was left standing alone outside.

“What about him?” someone asked.

“Leave him out there,” another replied carelessly. “If he’s lucky, he’ll live till morning.”

No one wanted to share their tent with him; space was already cramped enough.

“He can stay in mine,” the leader said evenly.

The night wind began to rise, cold and heavy with yin energy. The divine power within each of them stirred in response.

“Get inside,” the leader said, ducking into the tent first.

Inside the modest tent, the two sat facing each other. The leader began meditating, and Xu Zimo remained silent.

“You’ve been calm this entire journey,” the leader finally said after a while. “The calmer you act, the more uneasy I feel.”

“So what are you afraid of?” Xu Zimo asked lightly.

“What are you and your people planning?” the leader asked directly. “Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m just a nobody,” Xu Zimo said, shaking his head.

The truth was, he remained calm simply because none of them had the power to harm him.

“I’m curious about something, though,” Xu Zimo said suddenly.

“What’s that?”

“Why does your race need so many God-Slaves?” he asked. “Why come to the Ghost-God Heaven at all, when you already have the Grand Desolate Heaven?”

The leader chuckled. “And why does your Spectral Ghost Race come here when you have the Mirage Tides Heaven? The same reason.”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Xu Zimo replied.

“Then it seems you really are low-ranked among the ghosts, if you don’t even know that much,” the leader said with a faint smile. “Let me tell you a story.”

“I’m listening,” Xu Zimo said.

“Long ago, so long ago it may have been the Primordial Era, the Nine Heavens experienced a great upheaval.”

“A great upheaval?” Xu Zimo repeated, frowning slightly.

“Yes. During that upheaval, eight of the heavens submitted to a certain being. Only the Ghost-God Heaven resisted.”

“And then?” Xu Zimo asked.

“That being descended,” the leader said gravely. “The Ghost-God Heaven was nearly destroyed, nine heavens almost became eight. It was only because our Primal God Race and your Spectral Ghost Race pleaded for mercy that it was spared.”

Perhaps because the night was quiet and he felt unthreatened, the leader spoke openly, sharing secrets most would never hear.

“The rulers of the Ghost-God Heaven were stripped of their power,” he continued. “From that point on, the domain has been governed jointly by the gods and ghosts. That arrangement lasted until the Ancient Era, when an accident occurred.”

“What kind of accident?” Xu Zimo asked, intrigued.

“The ancient being revived,” the leader said, smiling faintly, “and sought to seize the center of authority again. I can’t say more, but I can tell you this, whether God-Slaves or Lost Souls, everything being done now is in preparation for the coming war.”

“The coming war?” Xu Zimo chuckled. “You’re making it sound mysterious. What war could be so important?”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” the leader replied with a smirk. “If you’re still alive when it happens.”

And just like that, the night passed quietly.

The next morning, they resumed their journey northwest. Moving swiftly, they didn’t stop for rest or food.

Xu Zimo noticed as they walked that they left faint glowing marks along their path, likely to keep their bearings.

By midday the following day, they arrived at what was supposed to be Sunflower City.

But when Xu Zimo looked around, he saw nothing but endless desert, barren land and drifting yellow sand. Not even a ruin was in sight.

Even the gods began to look uncertain.

“Where’s Sunflower City?” someone asked.

“Wait,” the leader said calmly.

“Wait for what?”

“When the sand and the sky meet as one, the city will appear,” the leader answered.

Though confused, the others did as he said and waited. Some scouted the area, but nothing seemed unusual.

Then, as they waited, the sky began to darken. From the north, a mass of heavy black clouds rolled in, spreading rapidly across the heavens.

“What’s that?” one of the divine warriors asked in alarm.

“The ghost army,” another murmured grimly.

“They’re faster than we expected,” the leader said, frowning.

He motioned for everyone to hide, and they quickly concealed themselves, eyes fixed on the sky.

A vast tide of darkness swept over the desert, tens of thousands of ghost soldiers descending like a storm.

The wind howled with their coming, thick with deathly yin energy.

There were so many that the desert seemed to vanish beneath them.

Ten billion ghosts, a hundred billion, perhaps more, all kinds of specters, spirits, and phantoms filled the air, snarling and roaring as they surrounded the area completely.

The divine warriors scarcely dared to breathe.

At the head of the army stood the Sixteen Ghost Monarchs, among them, the Ghost Monarch Green-Celestial and Ghost Monarch Nether-Prime.

With the thunder of a hundred billion ghostly soldiers behind them, the silent wasteland suddenly came alive with noise and movement.

“Look!” someone from the divine side whispered. “The desert, it’s changing!”

“It’s Sunflower City, it’s appearing!” another murmured.

All eyes turned toward the center of the plain.

There, from deep beneath the sand, a single seed burst upward.

The seed sprouted, grew roots, and within moments, became a colossal tree.

It soared higher and higher, its crown piercing the heavens. The trunk was thousands of miles wide, its branches stretching endlessly.

Each leaf was vast as an ocean, an incomprehensible sight.

This enormous tree was the true form of Sunflower City.

Now, though, it was withered and desolate. Its former glory could only be faintly imagined from the remnants of its structure.

The city was crumbling, the giant tree decaying, a scene of ruin and sorrow.

“Enter,” one of the Ghost Monarchs commanded.

At his order, the ghost army surged forward like a tidal wave, streaming up along the tree’s trunk and disappearing into the ancient city above.