I am the Villain

Bad Plans

The white and silver robes were pristine, embroidered with pale threads that shimmered faintly under the light. Too clean. Too soft. Too holy. Luo Zelin pulled them on with mild disgust. They felt like something you'd bury a virgin in. But before that, they'd sent him to the springs.

He'd nearly smiled when he saw them. The pool glowed faintly in the fading afternoon light, its surface steaming gently beneath a ring of carved stones. Surrounded by weeping trees and old statues, it was quiet. Still. The water itself pulsed with soft spiritual energy, cleansing, restorative, and most importantly: warm.

Zelin had once spent hours in these pools, when he was a teenager and the world still believed he had a future. That was before he chose to touch forbidden things. He sighed and stripped off the ragged robe, stepping into the water. His whole body winced, then relaxed, as the healing qi began to wrap around his wounds like silk. His muscles loosened. The bruises faded. The soreness vanished.

And... so did something else. He glanced down at his chest. The carved name "FENG WUXIN" was gone. He exhaled, slow and long, sinking a little deeper into the water. That mark had been burned into his flesh by a vengeful spell right before his death, so the world would remember what kind of monster he was, even in death.

Its disappearance made his escape cleaner. Less traceable. If anyone had seen it... well. Explaining how he, Luo Zelin, had a curse carved into his chest naming the most feared villain in the realm would've been... tricky.

He rested his head back against the rock, watching the steam curl into the air like ghosts rising. Then he looked down at himself.

His thin arms. His bony shoulders. And then further. "...Tch." He scoffed. "Of all the bodies in the realm," he muttered to himself. "I come back in a twig."

He gave himself another once-over and groaned. "This one doesn't even look like it can carry groceries, let alone demonic qi." If he pushed his power too far in this fragile shell, it would tear. He'd have to rebuild from the inside out. Slowly. Carefully. Train the muscles. Harden the qi channels. Reforging strength from scratch... all in a body with the build of a malnourished scholar. The thought alone made him want to go back to being dead.

With one last irritated sigh, Zelin stood from the spring, steam rising off his skin as he stepped back into the cold air. He dried off quickly and changed into the silver and white robes. They fit, surprisingly well. Too well. He grumbled the whole walk to the study hall.

The room he was shown into was wide and sparsely decorated. Smooth floors. Rows of short tables. Thin pillows instead of chairs. Banners of the Heavenly Sword Doctrine hanging above a grand inscription of the temple's founding creed. A soft-spoken instructor sat cross-legged at the front, his face gentle and voice utterly devoid of excitement. Zelin sighed and sat on his pillow, arms crossed, already tuning it out.

The man passed out scrolls. One was a comprehensive list of rules, laws, and spiritual principles. Zelin rolled his eyes as he skimmed it. "No forging of demonic contracts." "No summoning spirits after curfew." "No alcohol." He blinked. Wait. No alcohol? "That's not just a suggestion?" he whispered to no one in particular. "That's a rule?" He frowned. Of all the unforgivable things this temple had done, this one might be the worst.

Still, he reminded himself of the plan. Act pathetic. Act useless. Get kicked out. Time to begin. He raised his hand. "Yes, disciple Luo?" the instructor asked kindly.

Zelin tilted his head, completely serious. "What happens if someone has, like, accidentally forged a demonic contract? Say, hypothetically. In a dream. With a goat." The instructor blinked. Zelin nodded. "Follow-up: if the goat then demands snacks as tribute, is that spiritual coercion, or just plain hunger?"

A few heads turned. A few disciples stifled chuckles. The instructor cleared his throat. "Disciple Luo, perhaps we should stay focused on what's in the scroll."

"Oh, I'm very focused. I just want to make sure we're covering all the possible loopholes." He grinned and leaned back, smug. The instructor looked pained. He was just about to raise his hand again when the door opened. A breeze slipped in, cool and silent.

And Shen Liang stepped through. The room went still. Even the instructor straightened slightly. Clad in robes of pale moonlight and sky-blue thread, Shen walked without a sound and sat down at the table beside Zelin. He did not look at him. He didn't need to. His presence alone stirred something in the room, respect, awe, maybe fear.

Zelin felt none of those. Just... annoyance. And something deeper. Something older. He gritted his teeth as a memory surged forward, Shen, standing over him as the world burned. A sword through his chest. That damn cold face. He blinked the image away, shook it off, and leaned into his palm, trying not to fall asleep as the instructor droned on. "So... uh," Zelin whispered, "are you gonna kill me again if I ask about the goat?" Shen did not respond. Typical.