NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain

"You're stupid."

Lily's voice was sharp, but the way her breath hitched betrayed her.@@novelbin@@

"Doesn't matter now."

Artis didn't even glance at her, his voice dripping with pure, reckless confidence.

"I have one target and one target only."

Finally, he turned, locking eyes with her. His grip on her hand was firm, possessive, claiming.

"And that is… to show you how a real man protects his woman."

He turned, walking forward with confidence, leading her by the hand like he owned her soul. And damn it, her traitorous heart had the audacity to start hammering against her ribs like a drunk trying to break into a bar after last call.

'What the hell?'

She clutched her chest with her free hand, as if she could physically stop the wild beating, but it was useless. A fiery warmth spread through her face, creeping down her neck, settling low in her belly.

'What the fuck is this?'

'Why the hell did that sound so… hot? Why is my body acting like a thirsty bitch just because a man said some dramatic nonsense with conviction?' Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire

Her mind raced. It wasn't like she hadn't heard sweet words before—hell, she'd been hit on by all kinds of men in this godforsaken sect, from sweaty, desperate outer disciples to snobby young masters who thought their daddy's money was enough to make her drop her robes.

But this… this was different.

Because for the first time in her entire miserable, man-repellent life, someone actually said something for her. Not to get in her pants. Not to impress some elders. Not to puff up their own ego.

Just for her.

And worse, this wasn't some flowery, poetry-spouting playboy trying to worm his way into her bed with empty words. This was raw, blunt, and stupidly honest.

Her fingers clenched against her chest.

'Is this why my heart's going crazy? Is it because this is the first time I've ever heard something like this… from another man?'

Her brain scrambled for some kind of comparison, but all it did was throw out a depressing list of cowardly men she'd known in her life.

Hajin? Soft as a freshly baked bun. Hajin's dad? Might as well have been a ghost. Her own father? Dead before she even got to know him.

Her sister's husband? That asshole fled the moment things got tough, running with his tail between his legs the second he heard her sister was dead.

Every man in her life had either been weak or had run away.

But this man?

This absolute dumbass with more balls than sense?

He was here.

And for the first time in her life, she was experiencing what it actually felt like to have someone stand up for her.

To have someone look at her and say, I've got your back.

She gulped, her eyes glued to the man's back—the broad, sturdy kind of back that made a woman's brain short-circuit with thoughts she definitely should not be having right now.

The kind of back that said, Lean on me, baby, and I'll carry you through hell.

But looks were deceiving, weren't they?

Because for all she knew, this was just a very well-sculpted back with no real substance. A nice, muscular slab of man-meat that might crumble the moment things got rough.

'What if he's just all bark and no bite?'

Her fingers twitched. Her heart did a weird little flip she didn't appreciate.

Then reality smacked her across the face.

'What if the workers beat him to a pulp?'

Twenty burly, sweaty, permanently pissed-off men against one lone idiot? That wasn't a fight—that was an execution. And she wasn't particularly in the mood to watch him get turned into ground beef right in front of her.

But then, like a little devil whispering filth straight into her ear, another thought slithered into her mind.

'Wait a fucking second…'

'What if he's a cultivator?'

Her eyes widened as the realization punched her straight in the gut.

If he was, then that changed everything.

Her thoughts spiraled, weaving together half-remembered myths and drunken tavern tales about the kinds of shit cultivators could do.

The old stories spoke of men who could split mountains with a single punch, who could shatter the sky with a kick, who could probably use their dicks to carve a new Grand Canyon if they felt like it.

Flying? Possible.Fire-breathing? Maybe.Punching twenty men so hard their souls left their bodies? Absolutely.

But those were just stories, weren't they?

She had never seen anyone in this part of the sect display anything remotely close to that kind of power.

No one came here, no one cared about this place. It was a forgotten corner of the world, a pit where dreams went to die.

And yet…

She swallowed hard, a fresh wave of heat creeping up her neck as she stared at his back again.

Could he be the exception?

Was she, for the first time in her life, about to witness something insane?

Lily didn't waste her breath trying to talk him out of it anymore. No more questions, no more arguments, no more "Wait, are you sure about this?"

Because, deep down, she wanted to see this.

She wanted to feel it.

For once in her life, she wanted to know what it was like to have someone stand up for her.

To not have to grit her teeth, laugh it off, or pretend that every wandering hand and lecherous stare was just part of life.

Every day, it was the same shit. The same disgusting, greasy-eyed men who treated her like she was nothing more than a pair of tits attached to legs.

The same lingering stares, the same muttered comments, the same sleazy hands trying to grope when they thought no one was looking.

She'd gotten so used to it, she barely reacted anymore.

But not today.

Today was different.

Today, someone else would be making those bastards shut up.

Today, she was going to watch them squirm.

And today, she was going to be the one laughing.

...

The scent of stale beer and unwashed bodies filled the air as the rowdy workers sat in a messy circle, shoveling food into their mouths like wild dogs at a feast.

Meat juices and bread crumbs dripped down their chins, mixing with the sweat glistening on their sunburnt faces. The occasional belch rumbled through the group, thick with the stench of alcohol.

Then they spotted her.

And him.

Their laughter stuttered.

Eyes, beady and glinting with interest, locked onto Lily and the handsome bastard at her side. The very same bastard they had dismissed earlier.

Their grins stretched wider, sleazier.

"Oh ho, look what we got here."

One of them drawled, smacking his meaty thigh with a greasy palm.

"Looks like little Lily brought us a treat."

A ripple of chuckles spread through the group.

"Guess she finally decided to stop playing hard to get."

Another chimed in, running his tongue over his beer-soaked lips.

"And she brought a friend, too. Damn shame—we're gonna have to mess up that pretty little face of his."

A third man—fatter than the rest, with a gut that looked like it had been stuffed with a lifetime of stolen meals—grinned around a mouthful of bread.

He wiped his filthy beard with the back of his hand, smearing grease across his already grimy cheek.

"Hope he ain't too attached to his teeth," he chuckled. "'Cause he ain't leavin' with all of 'em."

Another burst of laughter.

"Pretty boy over there looks like he's got some coin on him."

One of the thugs cracked his knuckles, his yellowed teeth bared in a grin as he eyed Artis up and down.

"Rich brat like that? Probably soft as a plucked chicken."

"Yeah," another one chuckled, licking his lips like a wolf eyeing a meal. "What's a feast without dessert, huh?"

Lily felt bile rise in her throat as she watched them size her up, eyes crawling over her body like a pack of starving dogs circling fresh meat.

"She's a feisty one," a particularly greasy bastard sneered. His beer belly strained against his filthy tunic as he rubbed his grubby fingers together. "We should take our time enjoyin' her."

Lily's stomach twisted in revulsion. The way he said it made her skin crawl. Like she wasn't even a person.

"Maybe we should make that little twink Hajin watch while we break her in, huh?"

That set them off.

Laughter exploded through the group—deep, wheezing, beer-fueled guffaws as they clutched their bellies and slapped their knees.

One of them laughed so hard he nearly toppled over, barely catching himself on a nearby barrel.

Then, one by one, they started getting to their feet.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like a pack of wolves closing in.

Each movement was slow, savoring. Hands cracked knuckles, tongues ran over dry lips. A few of them were still chuckling, exchanging looks like they were already deciding who would go first.

Lily knew that look.

She'd seen it too many times before.

It should've made her scared. Should've.

But she didn't feel fear anymore.

Only exhaustion. Disgust.