Ar'Kendrithyst - 246, 2/2

Once she crossed through, she actually became the disfavored third WangFei?

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.

Rein Aster was just a herbalist farmer from a border village.A nobody. A background NPC in a story filled with prophecy and divine warfare.But by chance—or fate—he saves one of the 7 Demon Lords during a catastrophic war event. Instead of killing him, she falls for him.Obsessively. Violently. Eternally.And then… so do the others.Each Demon Lord tries to trap Rein as her personal lover/pet/priest/husband/god, building dungeons, illusion palaces, soul prisons—but Rein keeps escaping. Quietly. Cleverly. Never fully rejecting them—but never submitting, either.Why?Because Rein realizes something:The gods are worse than demons.The heroes are tyrants in shining armor.The world is collapsing—and he’s the only one they all listen to.So he hatches a plan:Use the Demon Lords’ love to take over the world.Pit them against the heroes. Unleash them on the gods. Make them fight for him. Make them kill for him. Then tame them all.Not as a king.Not as a savior.But as the lover they would burn the world for.__________The yanderes here are darker than what you might be used to.You have been warnedThe entire novel has a dark feel. Atleast read the first two minor arcs

The dojo is located in Yunzhong Mountain, and there are halls and fields.

Sitting under the ginkgo tree in leisure time, looking at the dust and clouds in the distance,

Hoe the ground and listen to the sound of springs, forge swords by the fire,

Food and clothing are up to oneself and God,

I don’t know the end of the cold year;

When the robbery comes, you have to go to the lower reaches of the mountain to watch the bitterness and sweetness of the world.

It’s hard to keep injustice in your eyes, and you don’t like to show it in front of others.

The gourd of wine at the waist is deep, and the light of the sword behind the back is cold,

Not for fame, not for money,

Be a free spirit.

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