The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

Chapter 102 Chi Xie Wasteland!

"What do you mean, breaking down?"

Su Xiaobai's voice came tight, strangled, like he'd swallowed a fistful of sand.

Zhu Qing pushed off the rail, her steps slow and deliberate, a cat stalking a crippled mouse. "Exactly what it sounds like. Your precious body? Crumbling. Slowly. Like an old whorehouse held together with hope and prayers."

"…Why?"

"Because you're an idiot," she said, the words sharp and blunt all at once. "You've been using spiritual Qi raw, haven't you? Ever since you formed your core."

"Of course," Su Xiaobai snapped, rolling his eyes. "That's the point of forming a core!" He glared at her. "What else am I supposed to do? Crochet a sweater with it?"

Her smile widened, "—And it's killing you."

"Explain."

"Unrefined profound Qi is poison," she said simply, tapping a finger to her temple like it was common sense, "Didn't Bai Yujian tell you that? It's too strong, too raw. Sure, it gives life—when refined. But you're not refining it properly. You're chugging wine straight from the barrel, sludge and all. Your core can't clean it fully, so it leaves behind… residue."

She flicked a lazy hand toward his arm. "And that residue? It's eating you alive."

Su Xiaobai glanced down.

The cracks were there—fine, pale, and snaking across his skin like the first fractures in a porcelain vase on the verge of shattering.

Rotting. Fragile. Laughably mortal.

"How do I fix it?"

"You don't."

The words hit flat, final, filled with satisfaction.

Zhu Qing crossed her arms, leaning back with all the grace of someone delivering a punchline. "Not unless you hit Earthly Rebirth Realm. Forge your body with Earth Qi, burn the impurities away, and come out shiny and indestructible. That's why they call it rebirth. You evolve, or you die. Simple."

"So I'm dying unless I break through?"

"Congratulations, genius," she said, clapping slowly, "Welcome to cultivation. The same thing that makes you strong is grinding you into dust. Poetic, isn't it? Life, death, power—they're all just different ways to screw you."

Poetic?

Su Xiaobai let out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "Yeah. Sure. Poetic. Let's carve it into my gravestone: Here lies Su Xiaobai / Strong as a dragon, dead like a fool / What a f***ing scam."

For a moment, Zhu Qing stared at him, stunned. Then a soft laugh slipped past her lips, low and wicked, "You know," she said, "you're surprisingly good at this. Maybe dying will finally give you time to work on your poetry."

"..." Su Xiaobai stared at her, his expression as flat as a plank of wood. "So… that's it? That's the grand secret? I'm lugging around a ticking time bomb because this world's energy system was designed by a lunatic?"

Zhu Qing chuckled softly, tilting her head as if admiring the moon. Her voice dripped with nostalgia—or something crueler. "Exactly. But look on the bright side... If you survive, you'll outlive every idiot still crawling toward immortality."

"'If' being the key word."

The words slipped out like an afterthought as Su Xiaobai glanced down at his arm.

The cracks shimmered faintly, a cruel work of art mocking his fragile mortality

For the first time, he felt it. Not the power. Not the strength. Just the weight. The cost.

The moon seemed colder, the silence heavier, pressing down like a debt he'd never repay.

He let out a laugh, sharp and bitter, more like a bark than anything sane. 'Great. Just great. I get reincarnated as… whatever this is, thrown into some mystical hellhole, and what's the reward? A slow, painful death. What a f***ing deal.' Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire

His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, "No one told me the energy of the gods came with a side of 'drop dead before thirty.' I didn't sign up for this! I wanted power, women, and maybe an immortal peach or two—not a fucking timer counting down to my funeral!"

Zhu Qing's laughter rolled out soft and wicked, "Oh, really? Did you think cultivation was a charity? Power isn't free. You pay in blood, sweat, and sometimes your very soul. The heavens don't hand out gifts—they make bets. And if you're going to climb to the top…"

She turned to him, eyes glinting with amusement, "...you'd better be ready to bleed for it. Or die trying. But hey—at least you'll die looking good."

Su Xiaobai glared, his frustration bubbling under his skin, but Zhu Qing only smiled wider. With a casual flick of her hair, she turned back to the railing, her movements entirely too charming.

She walked away, each step slow, deliberate—a rhythm built to shatter kingdoms and hearts

He stayed behind, his breathing measured, his grip on his sword firm. The cracks on his arm pulsed faintly under the pale light, like they were alive—reminding him how close he danced to the edge.

Cultivation. The pursuit of immortality, glory, and power. It had always seemed grand. Infinite. Divine.

Now? It felt like a game. A cruel, rigged game designed by the higher-ups to shatter anyone foolish enough to play.

A death game masquerading as enlightenment. And Su Xiaobai? Just another fool playing along—for now.

________

Next Day — Morning!

"Brace yourselves! We are entering Chi Xie Wastelands!"

The booming voice shattered Su Xiaobai's sleep like a brick through glass. Groaning, he stumbled out of bed, muttering curses aimed squarely at Zhu Qing's lungs. Did she have to be this loud before breakfast?

But as he stepped outside, his complaints died on his lips.

Whoosh!

A ripple of energy swept through the air, brushing against his skin like icy needles. The bright sun vanished in an instant, swallowed whole. Day twisted into night.

Above, the sky turned a deep, oppressive blue, the kind of color that whispered despair into your soul. Thick mist coiled around the ship, clinging to every surface like ghostly fingers.

Su Xiaobai shivered. It wasn't cold, but something about this place crawled under his skin.

He moved to the edge of the ship and glanced down.

Roarrr!

A deafening roar erupted from below, shaking the air and rattling the deck beneath his feet.

And then he saw it.

A battlefield stretched endlessly beneath them, a swirling mess of blood and death. Rivers of crimson carved jagged paths through the land, bodies strewn like discarded leaves. Swords clashed, axes cleaved, and the air reeked of death.

Screams filled the air—loud, sharp, and haunting:

"Help! HELP ME!"

"NO! NOOO!"

"PLEASE, STOP—AAAAARGH!"

Each cry seemed to stab into his chest, omnious and unfiltered.

This wasn't just a battlefield. This was hell made real.

Su Xiaobai swallowed hard. "...What the unholy f** is this?"*