NTR Villain: All the Heroines Belong to Me!

It was the largest gathering in university history.

Students, faculty, sect elders, and sponsors from across the Empire filled the marble amphitheater, its arched ceiling enchanted to mirror the sky above — but that sky was dark.

A low-pressure storm had rolled in from nowhere. The air crackled with unnatural tension. Birds refused to fly overhead. Even the wind seemed to wait.

At the center of it all stood the stage.

And on the stage stood Li Chen.

Or what was left of him.

Thirty Minutes Earlier

The Dean had opened the ceremony with pomp and flourish, unaware of the hell humming just outside the edge of perception.

Diplomas were handed out. Speeches made.

Even Zhao Yuran was honored with the Phoenix Alchemist Distinction, a title once reserved for sect leaders.

Hei Long watched from the upper balcony, flanked by two guards and Leng Qingxue, whose hand never left the hilt of her sword. Her eyes never left the shadows.

Because they knew.

Something was coming.

And it wasn't late.

Now – Center Stage

Li Chen took the microphone.

Nobody expected it.

Nobody invited him.

But no one stopped him, either.

Because the moment he stepped on stage, every formation in the hall failed.

Wards fizzled.

Seals cracked.

Even protective amulets worn by the elders dimmed like dying stars.

A chill swept through the crowd.

And yet…

He smiled.

Or something like a smile.

"Brothers. Sisters," he began, voice echoing without the help of magic. "Future heroes. Future villains. All of you caught in someone else's script."

Hei Long leaned forward slightly.

Li Chen raised his head.

His eyes were not eyes anymore.

Not fully.

They glowed with a corrosive light — like someone had taken narrative authority, liquefied it, and poured it into his skull.

"You think this is a university?" he asked the crowd.

"This… is a factory. Churning out side characters. Cannon fodder. Quest givers. You don't graduate from here — you're shelved until someone needs your backstory."

The crowd didn't understand.

But some part of them did.

Deep inside, every person who had been overshadowed, ignored, written off — felt the truth in his words like a slow sickness.

"I was the protagonist," he said.

"And then…"

He turned his head, gaze locking with Hei Long in the upper gallery.

"He arrived."

The audience turned with him.

Hei Long didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't need to.

"Tell me," Li Chen snarled, voice rising, "what power does one man have to rewrite an entire world's worth of fate just by standing still?!"

Hei Long finally responded:

"The kind you never earned."

Silence.

Then—

Li Chen raised his hand.

A circle of script formed in the air around him — glowing lines of rewritten logic, burning with unstable, paradox-riddled power.

Forbidden energy poured into him. The sky above the enchanted ceiling cracked like glass, revealing a swirling eye of entropy behind the clouds.

[System Alert: Narrative Structure Compromised.][All Threads Severed. Anchors Corrupted.]

"I brought a gift," Li Chen whispered.

He spread his arms wide.

And unleashed it.

The Forbidden Power – Name: World Reset Pulse

A pulse of anti-narrative energy exploded outward, ripping through the assembly.

People screamed.

Wards shattered.

Talismans crumbled to dust.

The very story of each person — their arc, their growth, their future — began unraveling like threads from rotting cloth.

Professors forgot their disciplines.

Students collapsed mid-transformation.

One elder forgot his own name.

Dozens of students began to glitch — facial features melting, voices repeating lines they never spoke, identities erased.

Zhao Yuran clutched her head, memories tearing apart like burning scrolls.

And above it all, Li Chen floated, no longer standing on the stage — but above it, cloaked in a storm of stolen protagonism.

"This is what you took from me," he shouted to Hei Long.

"I'm giving it back. To no one."

Hei Long – Still on the Balcony

For a moment, he said nothing.

Even Leng Qingxue gripped her sword tighter. "Should I move?"

"No," he said calmly.

She turned to him, confused.

"But the assembly—"

Hei Long stepped forward.

And walked off the balcony.

Not fell.

Not jumped.

Walked.

And the space beneath him bent to allow it.

He stepped directly onto the air, descending toward the stage with deliberate grace.

Li Chen turned midair, snarling. "You think you can still posture in front of me?! You don't get to be cool right now!"

Hei Long landed silently.

And raised a hand.

A wave of black and silver runes countered the entropy, stabilizing the zone around him.

Zhao Yuran gasped and collapsed — safe.

Qingxue landed beside him an instant later, blade drawn.

"You're not alone anymore," she said quietly.

Hei Long didn't look at her.

He looked up at the sky.

Then at Li Chen.

And said only:

"You don't have the heart for what you've become."

Li Chen howled.

And the real battle began.

The courtyard no longer obeyed time.

Blades of grass flickered between spring green and autumn red. Statues of ancient sages blinked in and out of existence. A hummingbird hung frozen mid-flight—its wings still blurred, its momentum erased.

Leng Qingxue stood in the eye of the storm, her blade unsheathed, her breath steady despite the chaos.

She wasn't here by accident.

Li Chen's forbidden pulse had corrupted this corner of the university like a spreading disease. No one else dared enter. The spiritual energy here was jagged—like walking through broken glass.

But Qingxue came anyway.

Because she felt something calling her.

Something… familiar.

She turned the final corner of the shattered walkway—

And stopped.

There, standing in the center of a frozen lotus garden, was herself.

Another Leng Qingxue.

Identical down to the last braid.

But the copy's robes were pure white, without a trace of battlewear or weariness.

Her face, however…

Emotionless.

Expressionless.

And her eyes were glassy with perfect calm.

"What is this?" Qingxue whispered.

The air didn't answer.

But the duplicate raised her sword.

Without hesitation.

Without a word.

Li Chen's Voice – Distant, Echoing

"You're loyal to a man who doesn't love you. I wondered why."

"So I extracted the part of you that remembers. The girl before he turned you into his weapon."

"This version is unburned. Unblooded. Unclaimed."

"Now fight it."

First Strike

The time-frozen Qingxue moved like a ghost — elegant, perfect, without wasted energy.

Qingxue barely parried the first blow.

It rattled her forearm down to the bone.

This wasn't some illusory clone. This was a perfect recreation of her peak form — without scars, without fatigue, without love.

"She doesn't hesitate," Qingxue muttered, ducking under a spinning slash. "She doesn't question."

"She doesn't… choose."

The Fight Continued

Steel clashed again and again, ice forming on every surface.

Spectators couldn't see them—this zone was locked in fragmented time—but if they could, they'd see two Qingxues dancing like twin storms.

The real Qingxue bled.

The fake one didn't.

But something started to crack.

Because every time their blades met, emotion surged.

And the fake Qingxue began to twitch.

A blink too long.

A tilt of the head that didn't match the rhythm.

Hesitation.

"I'm not you," the real Qingxue whispered mid-swing. "Not anymore."

"I'm colder."

"I'm more dangerous."

"Because I chose to feel anyway."

She feinted, then drove her shoulder into the fake's ribs, knocking her back.

The clone stumbled.

Looked at her sword.

Then—

Froze.

Literally.

Crystals began to form along her legs, creeping upward.

Li Chen's voice screamed again:

"No! She's not supposed to freeze! She's perfect! Untouched!"

Qingxue approached the dying doppelgänger.

Looked into her eyes one last time.

And whispered:

"Untouched things break too easily."

Then shattered her with a single, sorrowful strike.

Back in Real Time

The glitched zone collapsed in on itself.

Qingxue dropped to one knee, gasping for breath, arms shaking.

But she wasn't alone.

From behind her, Hei Long stepped into the courtyard—unharmed, calm as always.

"You saw it?" she asked, not rising.

"Yes," he said. "He tried to extract the part of you he could control."

"He made her perfect," she muttered.

"She was less for it."

She finally stood.

Turned to him.

And said, voice hoarse, "You broke me, Master."

Hei Long's eyes flickered.

Then, with rare softness:

"No. You broke yourself."

"And then rebuilt."

She stared at him.

Wanting something she wouldn't name.

He didn't give it.

But he didn't look away.

Elsewhere – Li Chen's Domain

He screamed.

Threw a desk across the room.

Dozens of glowing narrative strings flickered and snapped.

[System Alert: Memory Fragment Rejected.][Stability Decreased. Self-Loop Detected.]

"She was supposed to shatter," Li Chen hissed. "She was supposed to—"

A voice from behind:

"Maybe she already did. And that's why she wins."

He turned.

But no one was there.

Just a mirror.

And in it…

Hei Long's reflection.