She Live Streams Modern Life to Ancient People After Failing to Conquer the Emperor - Chapter 211: Leaving

Skyscraper's rooftop.Fang Cheng is sweating heavily, relentlessly training.1000 airborne clapping push-ups.1000 two-finger push-ups.1000 one-arm pull-ups.1000 one-arm handstand push-ups.1000 single-leg squats.Plus, holding a dragon flag and a Baki plank for one hour.Looking in the mirror, Fang Cheng shows a satisfied expression.“All six skills are maxed out, I can finally synthesize the mythic talent, Asura's body.”Neon-lit chaotic dark city, countless crimson eyes lurking around.Conglomerates, serial killers, cultists, gene-modified beings, rebel groups…Fang Cheng, with his panel, intrudes into this seemingly ordinary mysterious world.Gaining experience and cultivating through push-ups.Fitness, boxing, sanda, parkour, meditation, breathing, qigong…Each seemingly ordinary skill achieves unimaginable heights.Pushing human limits ever higher, crushing every so-called “monster.”Until — becoming the god of the new world!

In a freak alchemy accident, the omnipotent Extreme Alchemist of his generation was bound to the continuous cycle of worldly existence. His fallen soul was reincarnated into the body of an ordinary young man named Fang Lin.

From then on, Fang Lin became the chaotic mess of an alchemy genius.

“You’re nothing but scraps before me. I am the almighty Extreme Alchemist! So, you’re a martial arts genius, huh? Come…Come. Come! Have a taste of the elixir made by the great master.”

The path of becoming an extreme alchemist was rough, bumpy and rugged, but at the end, the Mighty Cauldron awaited beyond the Nine Cauldrons!

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“Here you go, this is your wage for the week.”After passing over a small pouch, the woman with her legs crossed behind the desk casually made a 'Check' in a notebook and then, without looking up, waved her hand to dismiss him and said:“Remember to file your taxes... Next!”“Wait a minute!”After pouring out the coins from the pouch and looking at the eight large and one small, totaling nine filthy coins in his palm, Leon couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock, almost wanting to pounce on her and fight to the death right there and then.“Damn it! I just repelled the evil god who was trying to erode the world this Tuesday! You bastard even wants to deduct the salary of the savior?”

“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.