Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!-Chapter 111: The Formless Emperor

The freezing winds of the Northern Continent continued to howl, but the attention of every cultivator present was fixed on the massive stone gates.

The air thrummed with a low-frequency vibration as the golden light reached a blinding crescendo, and then, as if a curtain were being pulled back, three figures stepped through the shimmering veil.

Ling Luochen, Shangguan Mu’er, and Xue Bing’er walked out onto the permafrost, their auras significantly more refined than when they had entered.

"They’re out!"

"Look at their expressions... I wonder what they received from inside?"

"Others who were kicked out early got some immortal herbs and monster corpses, so they must have something even better, right?"

The crowd buzzed with envy and speculation.

During the first trial, the ancient forest had indeed been a treasure trove. While the trial itself demanded beast cores, the participants were allowed to keep the rest.

For many rogue cultivators, the high-grade monster flesh and rare spirit herbs they scavenged were enough to fund their cultivation for the next decade.

But for the three women standing at the vanguard, such trinkets were beneath their notice.

Shangguan Mu’er scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on the silent, waiting figure of Qing’er.

She approached the shadow guard, her posture respectful. "Miss Qing’er, the Young Master ordered us to head out first. It seems tjat there was something specific he wanted to settle back there."

Qing’er gave a single, curt nod. She didn’t look worried; to her, there was nothing in this lower realm—or even the Saint’s tomb—that could truly threaten Shen Haoran.

"Understood. I shall wait."

However, the peace was short-lived.

"Xue Bing’er!"

A booming, arrogant voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd.

Shui Heng, the Sect Master of the Sky Water Sect, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with unconcealed greed. "As your elder in the Northern Alliance, I’m afraid your Ice God Palace wouldn’t be able to protect the significant treasures you’ve surely obtained inside. The world is a dangerous place, and a young woman with such wealth is a target. Why don’t you give your spoils to me for safekeeping?"

Shui Heng grinned, staring at Xue Bing’er maliciously.

He was a bully by nature, and since he knew better than to offend the Conferred Pagoda’s representatives, he chose the target he felt was within his reach.

To him, Xue Bing’er was just a talented junior who needed to be "taught" her place.

Xue Bing’er’s expression turned into a mask of glacial frost. She didn’t even flinch. "Senior Shui, I’m calling you ’Senior’ only because you are old, not because you’ve earned a shred of my respect. If you want to steal my things, stop hiding behind pretty words and prepare for a sect war. My Ice God Palace may not be as large as your Sky Water Sect, but we are quite capable of turning your rivers into graveyards."

Shui Heng’s grin didn’t falter, though his eyes darkened. "How could it be stealing? You wound me. Obviously, it’s just for safekeeping. Once your sect grows strong enough to actually protect such divine treasures, I’ll naturally return them to you. It’s an act of charity, really."

"Scram!" Xue Bing’er glared at him, her light blue hair beginning to flutter as her ice-qi manifested.

"Hehehe," Shui Heng laughed, the sound sharp and grating as he drew a crystalline blue sword from his storage ring, the blade radiating with the power of a Nascent Soul. "Don’t worry, little girl. I’ll take very good care of your inheritance."

Without hesitation, Xue Bing’er prepared for battle.

Then, the elders and disciples of Ice God Palace and Sky Water Sect also prepared for combat.

*

*

*

While the drama unfolded on the frozen plains outside, the interior of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon was a realm of absolute silence and golden light.

Shen Haoran sat upon the Great Throne, his eyes closed, his purple-golden Qi was channeled directly into the throne’s obsidian armrests, weaving through the complex web of ancient formations that formed the "nervous system" of the Imperial Artifact.

Suddenly, the entire Garden trembled as a low, resonant hum echoed through the gothic halls, sounding like a long-dormant heartbeat finally finding its rhythm.

Then, Haoran felt a sudden, sharp connection—a sense of spatial awareness that expanded until he could feel every brick, every blade of grass in the gardens, and every hidden turret of the fortress.

"Success." He opened his eyes, a thin smile playing on his lips. "The refinement of the core is complete. Well then, let us see the fabled Library of this ancient empire."

With a simple thought, the space around him warped.

He didn’t walk; he was simply there.

It was one of the benefits of Refining this artifact, being able to directly teleport to anywhere else in the Hanging Gardens.

Just then, he found himself in a massive, seemingly endless expanse of space.

Towering shelves of dark wood and ivory rose into a misty void, stretching upward and outward for what felt like miles.

This was a repository of knowledge that had survived the collapse of an entire civilization.

"It looks so grand... majestic, even" Haoran whispered.

The weight of millions of books, scrolls, and jade slips created a pressure of pure information.

He looked around, and found that at the very center of this infinite archive sat a simple, lonely chair and a wooden desk, and on that desk lay a single, unremarkable book bound in weathered leather.

Curious, Haoran walked toward it and picked it up. There were no ornate runes, no glowing jewels—just two simple words written in an archaic script: Formless Emperor.

"...This must be it," Haoran mused as he sat down. "This should be where the Saint learned the legend of the Formless Emperor."

He opened the cover and began to read, his golden eyes scanning the text as the history of a forgotten epoch unfolded.

The book told of a time long ago, in a forgotten ancient era known as the Dark Ages.

It was a time when the human race did not rule the heavens, but lived in the dirt.

Humanity was on the very verge of extinction. Ancient demons, primordial beasts, alien races from beyond the stars, and malevolent evil spirits dominated the land.

Humans were restricted to small, fortified territories, treated as nothing more than "two-legged sheep" to be rounded up and devoured by ancient demonic Supremes whenever they hungered.

It was an era of absolute despair because, in those centuries, humanity did not possess a single Supreme Emperor to guard their fate.

And in that darkness, the Formless Emperor, a man who possessed the Formless Void Divine Physique, ascended.

He was the first human in that dark age to reach the Supreme Realm.

But, in the day he attained enlightenment, a great calamity swept across the desolate borders of the universe, shaking all the heavens.

Before all the races could offer their congratulations, before he could enjoy the glory of becoming Supreme Emperor, a supreme being from an ancient demonic race made his move, intending to kill him at his weakest moment.

That battle shattered several star fields, and the emperor’s blood stained the sky red.

Since then, the Formless Emperor has begun his conquests.

He went directly from his breakthrough into a state of perpetual war. And without uttering a single word of complaint, he alone stood as the shield for all of humanity against the horrors of the ancient threats.

His Divine Physique, which should have made him an invincible god among men, was pushed to its absolute breaking point.

His blood never stopped flowing, and his injuries couldn’t even perfectly heal before he sustained new ones on a different front.

He fought on broken legs and with shattered ribs, holding back tides of demons that spanned continents.

He never enjoyed a single day of peace, never established a supreme divine dynasty, and even his own lineage was nearly severed because of his conquests.

He faced too many enemies.

Undying Devil Emperor, Dark Ancient Supreme, Immortal Blood Emperor, Divine Great Supreme, Reincarnation Sage Emperor, Heavenly Burial Supreme...

In almost every one of the ancient races, a supreme being has emerged, seeking to crush the last hope of the human race.

Others become emperors in order to rule the world and to live forever.

The Formless Emperor became an emperor solely to protect others.

He shouldered the fate of the entire human race on his not-so-broad shoulders.

This constant, relentless strain caused his body to break down prematurely.

His lifespan as an Emperor—a being meant to live for around fifteen thousand years—did not even exceed five thousand.

He lived less than half the life of a normal Emperor because he burned his very soul to keep the human race alive.

He alone shouldered the fate of a species.

When he sensed his end was near, he didn’t retreat to a hidden grotto to die in peace, nor hide in human kingdoms to silently guard it until his death.

Instead, he challenged every single enemy Supreme simultaneously, wanting to use the last spark of his life to pave a road for his descendants.

That final battle was described in terrifying terms: "It was as if the universe were destroyed seven times and created seven times in the span of a single day."

In the end, the Formless Emperor killed three enemy Supremes and heavily injured seven more, forcing the remainder to flee into the depths of the void to hide and lick their wounds.

But he himself perished in the silence of space.

He shed his last drop of blood for humanity, and even his remains did not return to his homeland, but instead drift eternally in the cold universe, guarding the human race he loved so dearly.

Despite his disappearance, no alien race dared to attack humanity for ten thousand years.

They lived in a state of constant terror, fearing that the Formless Emperor was merely sleeping, waiting for the moment they crossed the border to come back to life and retaliate.

His death gave humanity a breathing room—a full ten thousand years of peace that allowed the next Human Emperor to be born and stabilize their reign.

Haoran closed the book, his fingers tracing the leather cover as the text ended with a single, haunting observation: "The Formless Emperor was not the strongest emperor, nor was he the fastest, the most creative, nor the wisest. But, in the past, present, and future, he has, and will never be, inferior to any others."

Haoran sat in the silence of the library, the story of that forgotten emperor echoing in his mind.

A lifetime of fighting, not a single day of rest, all to protect the human race from any threats.

"A man who fought until his blood ran dry for a race that forgot his name," Haoran whispered. "And I just turned the guy who could’ve been his successor into ash."

He stood up, his expression hardening. He felt no regret, but he felt a new level of respect for the man who used his last drop of blood for ten thousand years of peace.

"Formless Emperor," Haoran commanded, his voice echoing through the endless shelves. "Don’t worry, I will not let your legacy be forgotten. I swear on my name as a Shen, I will find a suitable inheritor for your mantle."

This is his respect for that man.

A man who possessed not the strongest power, but the greatest, most noble soul.