The Man Picked Up By the Gods (Reboot) - Chapter 6

After Su Nuo had died, she discovered that she had lived in a novel world where the female supporting character had overtaken her role as the female lead.

The female supporting character, who had transmigrated into Su Nuo’s world, was pretty and outstanding. She had easily replaced the good-for-nothing dodder of a female lead.

Then, Su Nuo went through a series of quick transmigrations —

The flirtatious concubine of a troubled nation, the cannon fodder in a prestigious family, a young girl who joined the military for her father…

Su Nuo transmigrated back to her original world after completing ten quick transmigration assignments.

Outside the patient room, the fiance that she had grown up with mocked her coldly, “I don’t care if you try to commit suicide for me 100 times. I will never be interested in you.”

This was the day after she had attempted to commit suicide for Chen Weng. It was a warm and sunny day in spring, and she was 19 years old.

***

Su Nuo was a well-pampered, sweet pushover. Chen Wang hadn’t liked her since she was a child.

However…

He later discovered that his pampered and tender fiancee had turned into a female despot.

#Where men who had bullied the women that loved them come to die#

#You might enjoy a momentary satisfaction bullying a woman that loves you, but you’ll be chasing yourself straight into the crematorium in the next scene#

#Chen Wang is not the male lead#

#A love interest that isn’t an expressionless iceberg#

#Loving birth family and adopted parents#

- Description from Novelupdates

He called me his ruin. Then he made me one.Alpha Shiloh's rejection wasn’t just a scar—it was a betrayal. He left me shattered. Broken. And I had to rebuild myself in silence.I almost forgot the way his touch once burned like salvation.Now he’s back.Not to beg forgiveness. To bargain. A deadly mission, he says. He promises freedom.But then presence ignites my wolf into a frenzy. She thrashes, desperate to claim him again. But I remember the coldness in his eyes when he exiled me. The way the pack turned their backs as I crawled into the wilderness, half-dead and wholly broken. Hate simmers hotter than desire.Yet here I am, bargaining with the devil who shattered me. Every moment we share is a lie. He doesn’t know about the shadows I’ve fed, the truth I’ve buried.Or the child.One whisper of its existence, and the pack will paint the forest with my blood.But the closer we get to completing his mission, the harder it is to hide… from him, or from the part of me that still craves him.Freedom has a price.So does vengeance.And I’m not sure which will destroy me first.

“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.