The Ethermal Chronicles - Chapter 13: Zelda’s Fall

# fakerichdaughter

In her past life, Su Meng married Wei Ting, thinking that she could eventually win his heart with tolerance and flattery. For this, she tried to flatter Wei Ting’s sister, Wei Xue, as well. Wei Xue said, “Wei Ting doesn’t like girls who wear makeup.” So Su Meng was as bland as a maid, but Wei Xue was exquisite as a princess every day. Wei Xue said, “Wei Ting loves to drink milk.” So Su Meng prepared a glass of milk for Wei Ting every day, but he never drank it. Wei Xue said, “Wei Ting likes fresh flowers.” So Su Meng would fill the house with fresh flowers on each of Wei Ting’s birthdays. Alas, Wei Ting would turn and leave every time, and Su Meng had never celebrated his birthday with him ever since they got married.

One day, Wei Xue said, “I killed your child on behalf of Brother Wei Ting. Why don’t I send you to hell now so you can keep your child company? Oh, I forgot to tell you that I was adopted by the Wei family. I have no blood relation to Brother Wei Ting. I love him, and he loves me.”

Su Meng died, and when she woke up again, she found herself having returned to that night, five years ago. This night, she was supposed to get pregnant with Wei Ting’s child. Staring at Wei Ting, the obedience and flattery in her expression disappeared without a trace. What remained was only icy resentment. “Get out!” Wei Ting felt incredulous. This woman was seducing him in the first place, so why did she suddenly turn into a stranger? The next day, Wei Xue appeared before Su Meng with her fake smile. However, after experiencing all that, Su Meng couldn’t possibly let herself be tricked again! In this life, Su Meng would live for herself and take revenge for her child and herself! Men? Beat it! Wei Xue, you’ll pay with your life!

In a modern world, a professional assassin was murdered by her beloved and found herself revived in an ancient world as a general’s daughter with a weak physique. She was engaged to a prince, but because she did not have a nice appearance, her fiancé and sister attempted to kill her. Although she had to struggle to survive, there were also those who unconditionally loves her that supported her in her time of need.

“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.