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TDG: Ultimate Villain - Ch 25 Huyan Lanrou’s disgust. Some change in impression.
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 11:48:57 +0000 UTCShen Fei’s cock twitched and hardened further the moment his eyes landed on Huyan Lanruo walking gracefully ahead.
Her figure, wrapped in a tight-fitting dress that accentuated her ample curves, swayed with confidence, igniting a flame within him. But he clenched his fists and reined in the surging desire.
‘Not now,’ he reminded himself, jaw tightening. ‘This isn’t the time to act on impulse.’
Taking a deep breath, he circulated his cultivation energy to suppress the heat and lust simmering in his veins. He reminded himself of the reality—her current impression of him was anything but favorable.
He was infamous throughout Glory City as a degenerate—the perverted young master of the Sacred Family. Tales of him using family pressure and thuggish retainers to ruin the lives of many innocent girls were whispered in fear and disgust.
Were it not for his status as the heir to the Sacred Family, he would have long since been executed by public outrage. Only the veil of noble blood had shielded him from the consequences of his sins... at least until the memories of his past life reawakened.
But that was the old Shen Fei. Now, with his past life’s wisdom and knowledge, he had begun reshaping his destiny, although still perverted and lustful.
There was still time before class began. Rather than loiter and risk temptation, he diverted his steps toward the Holy Orchid Academy library.
It was the largest repository of knowledge in all of Glory City—a silent sanctuary built atop generations of history.
Families who had migrated to Glory City during the chaotic Age of Darkness had brought their ancestral records and scrolls with them, all now resting in these ancient shelves. Tomes on cultivation, languages, martial arts, history—untouched secrets were waiting to be discovered.
Yet, most of these records were inaccessible to the common folk. The texts were written in ancient languages that have long been forgotten by time. To the residents of Glory City, they were no more than paper relics.
‘But I’m not like them,’ Shen Fei thought, a smirk curling on his lips. ‘I've already mastered dozens of languages after devouring the entire Sacred Family's library and more than half of the Alchemist Association's collection.’
Under the influence of his unique talent—God Rewards Hard Work—he had reached near-unparalleled mastery of knowledge. Languages, scripts, runes—nothing eluded his comprehension.
‘In the world of Tales of Demons and Gods, from the Tiny World to the Draconic Ruins, there is no language I cannot decipher.’
With confidence in his steps, he approached the towering marble columns of the library and pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
The scent of old parchment and ink greeted him, a quiet hush hanging in the air like an ancient spell.
Behind the front desk stood a young male student, serving as the temporary librarian. The boy’s eyes widened the moment he saw Shen Fei enter, and he nearly dropped the book he was organizing. His back straightened instantly, face paling.
Fear crept into his heart like a shadow.
Shen Fei’s reputation was no secret.
In his two years at the Holy Orchid Academy’s genius class, Shen Fei had built an infamous name—bullying weaker students, seducing beautiful female cultivators with honeyed lies, and abandoning them after one night of passion.
His cruelty was whispered behind closed doors, and his influence reached deep into the academy.
No one dared cross him. Not unless they bore the same status—heirs of the Divine Family, or the Snow Wind Family.
‘Why… why is he here?’ The boy’s thoughts raced as cold sweat beaded on his forehead. ‘This is probably only the second time he’s stepped into the library in two whole years…’
He remembered the first time vividly. Back then, the librarian had been a beautiful girl, quiet, kind, and soft-spoken.
Shen Fei had visited her late at night, lured her from the student quarters under the pretense of seeking help with ancient scripts. She never returned that night.
The next morning, her broken figure was quietly escorted back. Not long after, she disappeared from the academy’s staff. Rumors later confirmed she had become Shen Fei’s personal maid, stripped of her dignity under the weight of his threats.
That memory alone made the boy’s legs tremble.
Still, he mustered the courage to greet the monster cloaked in a noble’s skin.
“Young Master Shen Fei… do you require any assistance?” he asked, forcing a smile, his voice cracking.
Shen Fei cast him a glance—his crimson eyes glinting with casual arrogance. He waved his hand dismissively. “No need.”
The boy nearly sagged in relief as Shen Fei turned away, his footsteps quiet but confident as he stepped into the vast sea of bookshelves—each one hiding secrets that only he could truly unlock.
After arriving at the far end of the library, Shen Fei picked a bookshelf at random and reached for the first tome. The moment he opened it, his eyes darted across the pages with unnatural speed.
Within a few breaths, he closed the book, having absorbed everything within. Without pause, he pulled the next one from the shelf.
One after another, books vanished into the sea of his mind—devoured like appetizers. His fingers moved with practiced rhythm, grabbing, flipping, reading, and shelving with effortless fluidity.
As time passed, his reading speed increased, his comprehension deepened, and the thirst for knowledge surged like a firestorm.
Before long, he had moved on to the next shelf, then the next, until rows of bookshelves lay behind him, emptied of their secrets.
Nearly two hours passed before he finally stopped.
Dozens of bookshelves stood conquered—more than thirty, their contents now etched into his memory.
‘Let’s go back. Class is about to begin,’ he thought, brushing the dust from his robes. ‘There’s nothing any teacher in Glory City can offer me, of course. But still… showing up now and then might soften the impression I’ve left in Huyan Lanruo’s eyes. Play the role. Pretend a little humility.’
With that, he turned and left the library, his boots echoing faintly on the polished floor. Behind him, the librarian watched with trembling hands, eyes wide with dread, as though he’d just witnessed a dragon silently glide past.
Outside, as he walked toward the Genius Class building, Shen Fei’s mind drifted again.
‘Shen Xiu is in the Sacred Family mansion. Yang Xin is at the Alchemist Association. I’m the only one living in the academy,’ he mused.
‘Sure, I can visit either of them when I need to vent some frustration... but it’s always convenient to keep a personal cocksleeve close by—especially in class, which is why I need to conquer Huyan Lanruo as soon as possible. Then my days in the academy will be drenched in pleasure.’
Just imagining her sharp tongue silenced, warped around his cock, her haughty glare replaced with tears and moans, made his cock stir with arousal again beneath his robes.
As he approached the classroom and stepped inside, the noisy chatter within dropped like a stone.
Commoner students quickly lowered their heads, pretending to study, their backs stiff with fear. None dared meet his gaze—none dared breathe too loudly in his presence.
Even the noble and aristocrat-born students weren't much better. They glanced away with unease, some sneaking fearful glances, while others whispered nervously to each other.
Only those from the three major families—on par with the Sacred Family—continued talking freely, though they did not hide the scorn in their eyes as they cast disdainful glances at Shen Fei.
Among them was Huyan Lanruo.
She looked up as he entered, her gaze locking with his for a heartbeat before she narrowed her eyes and let out a cold snort of contempt.
‘Cowards,’ she scoffed inwardly. ‘One spoiled scumbag walks in and everyone forgets they have a spine.’
With deliberate disdain, she turned her head away, flipping a strand of her pink hair over her shoulder.
Though the Huyan Family was merely a noble family by status, her father—the current patriarch—was a close ally and friend of Ye Zong, patriarch of the Snow Wind Family and Lord of Glory City.
Because of that connection, she never feared Shen Fei. In fact, she had mocked him openly on several occasions in the past, disgusted by his reputation and depravity.
Had she not had that political shield, her fate might have been far different.
‘If not for her father’s friendship with Ye Zong, she would’ve ended up like Xiao Ning’er,’ Shen Fei thought, a cruel smirk curling on his lips.
‘Even though Ning’er was the daughter of the Winged Dragon Family’s patriarch—another noble house—she caught my eye, her family had no choice. They bowed under pressure and betrothed her to me. When she came of age, she would become my toy, just as planned.’
The memory of Xiao Ning’er’s figure in the future made his blood heat once again.
As Huyan Lanruo glanced briefly in his direction, her face twisted in disgust. The mere sight of him filled her with revulsion and fury—an emotion she couldn’t quite explain. Deep down, she loathed that someone like Shen Fei still walked freely, above the rules that bound others.
Shen Fei, meanwhile, took a seat at the back of the class. Almost immediately, a few of his loyal lackeys gathered around him. These weren’t just followers—they were branded slaves, bound to him by secret inscription marks. Their bodies and loyalty were no longer theirs.
Still, they kept up the act, laughing, flattering him, and talking lewdly about girls in the class to maintain appearances.
Soon, the classroom door creaked open, and a tall old man stepped in. His long white beard was tied neatly at the end, and his flowing robes shimmered faintly with spirit energy. He walked slowly, but each step carried authority.
Without preamble, he began lecturing about inscription patterns—basic formations and elementary channeling techniques.
Shen Fei rested his chin on his palm, his eyelids half-closed.
‘Such weak and useless inscriptions being taught in the Genius Class,’ he scoffed silently. ‘No wonder Glory City collapsed so easily in the other timeline. They waste time teaching trash to supposed elites.’
His eyes wandered across the class… then settled hungrily on the back of Huyan Lanruo, seated a few rows ahead.
Her pink hair shimmered under the morning light filtering through the high windows, cascading down her back in silky waves.
She was beautiful—painfully so.
Her dress struggled to contain her bountiful breasts, the tight fabric accentuating the round swell of her bust with every breath she took. Her slim waist flared into soft, full hips, and her thick thighs framed a big, plush, heart-shaped ass that swayed with elegant defiance whenever she walked.
She wasn’t unaware of the attention she drew.
She knew what kind of thoughts men like Shen Fei had about her. And she hated it.
‘Vile dog,’ she thought, her grip on the desk tightening slightly. ‘He’s probably undressing me with his filthy eyes already.’
Sure enough, she felt the weight of his gaze burn into her back like a brand. Slowly, she turned her head, her narrowed eyes locking onto his greedy stare.
Their eyes met.
Hers—cold, sharp, filled with unspoken venom.
His—hungry, amused, utterly shameless.
Shen Fei simply smirked.
‘Soon,’ he thought.
Teacher Ye Zheren, a stern figure with long white hair tied behind him and an air of noble dignity, stood at the front of the classroom.
As a respected member of the Snow Wind Family, his presence commanded attention. But right now, his narrowed eyes were fixed on Shen Fei—lounging arrogantly in the back row, his gaze shamelessly locked on Huyan Lanrou’s curvaceous figure.
Ye Zheren’s knuckles tightened on the desk.
He loathed Shen Fei.
Not just for his arrogance, but for everything he represented—decadence, corruption, and disgrace to the cultivation world.
And now, seeing the boy openly ogling a student in the middle of his class, his patience snapped.
“Shen Fei,” Ye Zheren said coldly, his voice slicing through the murmurs like a blade, “why are you sleeping in my class? Perhaps you’ve already mastered the inscription pattern I’ve been teaching?”
Shen Fei’s eyes opened lazily. His lip curled in annoyance.
‘What’s gotten into this old bastard today?’ he thought with irritation, but he still stood up. He didn’t want to lose a chance to act superior—especially not in front of Huyan Lanrou.
He dusted off his robe and spoke, voice dripping with disdain, “What a pathetic inscription. Are you insulting us genius-class students with this garbage? You call that an attack pattern? It takes dozens of seconds to activate, and even then, it's only effective against low-tier bronze-ranked demon beasts. And it’s completely useless against certain types of bronze beasts—let alone silver or gold-ranked.”
He scoffed, spreading his arms mockingly.
“Are we expected to stand still and politely wait for the enemy to kill us while activating this useless inscription?”
Gasps echoed in the classroom. Even the noble-born students looked shocked at his audacity.
Shen Fei continued without restraint, listing flaw after flaw, tearing apart the technique like a master critiquing a child’s scribble. He didn’t even try to veil his contempt—for the inscription, the class, or the teacher.
Veins bulged on Ye Zheren’s forehead. After years of patience and professionalism, he had finally reached his limit.
“If it’s so weak,” the teacher roared, voice trembling with fury, “then please, Master Shen Fei, enlighten us! Show us some high-level inscription and grace us with your heavenly brilliance!”
Shen Fei smirked.
“You’re a good teacher after all. Still capable of being taught,” he teased, casually folding his sleeves. “Unlike frogs in a well who deny everything outside their narrow view.”
Before Ye Zheren could respond, Shen Fei raised his hand and pointed to the air. With focused calm, he began drawing invisible lines with his finger. Glowing runes emerged in the air, swirling and taking form with fluid grace.
The classroom fell silent.
The pattern was nothing like what they had just seen. It was intricate yet elegant, sharp yet symmetrical—and it formed completely in mid-air.
It took him only a second to complete.
Ye Zheren’s eyes widened—not because of the inscription itself, but because of how it was formed.
‘Soul forming…’ the teacher’s breath caught. ‘How is this scum…?’
Although most students didn’t understand the significance, they were quick to catch onto the teacher’s stunned reaction. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Some of the noble and major family students who did recognize what they had witnessed were even more shaken.
‘Shen Fei? That trash… can soul form?’
They stared in disbelief, some pinching themselves, others exchanging glances of confusion and awe.
Ye Zheren stood rooted, speechless.
Soul forming was not just rare—it was legendary. It required the ultimate purity and control over one's soul force.
Among ten gold-ranked Demon Spiritualists, perhaps one might achieve it. And once achieved, it signaled a future path to Black Gold rank or beyond.
To do it in front of a class, with ease, without preparation—it was unthinkable.
Shen Fei’s expression remained smug as the glowing inscription suddenly ignited.
Flames erupted, forming into a magnificent Eastern dragon, wreathed in high-temperature fire. It shot toward the teacher, spiraled around him with ferocious grace, then coiled back into Shen Fei’s palm before dissipating into harmless smoke.
The class erupted.
“W-What just happened?!”
“Was that a fire dragon?”
“Is the teacher hurt?!”
Ye Zheren looked down, stunned. His robes bore a spiraling burn pattern—delicate, artful, etched as if by brushstroke. Yet not a single patch of skin beneath was harmed.
Shen Fei chuckled.
“How was it, Teacher?” he asked with mocking politeness. “Do you like the design?”
Ye Zheren’s face twitched as he looked down at the intricate burn spirals. He didn’t answer at first.
Around them, the students gasped.
“His clothes are burned… but not a scratch on his body?!”
“How can that be?!”
“Is it just for show?”
A snide voice rose from the front. “Tch. Flashy tricks. Weak in real power,” muttered a student from the Snow Wind Family.
The class quickly dissolved into chaos, students debating, questioning, and whispering in disbelief.
Ye Zheren finally raised his hand.
“Quiet,” he commanded, voice calm once more, but now layered with gravity.
He turned to Shen Fei, his tone solemn. “That inscription you just demonstrated… What was it?”
“It’s called ‘Flame Dragon Spiral,’” Shen Fei replied lazily, sitting down again. “A little thing I made yesterday.”
The teacher paused. “I could feel its power… as it brushed past my skin,” he said slowly. “If I had to estimate, it could kill a gold-ranked demon beast in one strike.”
Another wave of gasps exploded through the room.
“Gold-ranked?!”
“No way!”
“But that would mean…”
“Yes. A gold-ranked inscription can only be drawn by a gold-ranked demon spiritualist!”
“Wait—how?! Wasn’t Shen Fei just bronze-ranked before the holidays?!”
The murmurs grew louder, more frantic.
Some who had despised Shen Fei now looked at him with mixed expressions—suspicion, fear, even reluctant respect.
In Glory City, strength ruled.
No matter how repugnant a person might be, if they had the power to protect the city—or dominate it—they earned status. And Shen Fei had just proven he was far beyond what anyone had believed.
‘This changes everything…’ Huyan Lanrou thought, her fists clenched under the desk.
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