Dark Sand: My Players Are All Actors - Chapter 481 - 262: Who Says There Must Be a Prime Minister?_2

The Return of the Heavenly Demon!I promised myself to live ordinarily for the rest of my life…….“Please be my father until I graduate.”He suddenly gained a daughter out of nowhere.

Chen Xu traveled to the parallel world, and was surprised to find that many classic and excellent games in the previous life did not appear in the parallel world.I wanted to make a big picture, but why did I still have an ’emotion collection system’, and the emotions such as happiness, sadness, excitement, fear, anger and other emotions provided by players who have played games made by themselves can make them stronger?But why is it so much easier to get resentment than happiness?Looking at his points harvest, Chen Xu expressed puzzlement.As a result, Chen Xu’s career as a game designer gradually turned crooked.In “Under the Legend”, countless players beat the table and shout: I was played by this game!In “Escape”, countless players shouted, my cabinet moved, and I stopped playing.In “Dark Souls”, when countless players entered the game with a smile, “Go away, please go away, leave the fire girl behind and go out with your fire, we don’t want to spread this fire!”Soap, Xiaoqiang, and Ghost sacrificed in “Call of Duty”; Zack was killed and Alice was killed in “Final Fantasy 7”; Arthur and John were betrayed in “Red Dead Redemption”;Countless players went berserk: Nima Chen Xu old thief, can’t we be kinder to the protagonist?Q: How do I feel about players’ anger towards themselves?Facing the reporter’s question, Chen Xu smiled slightly: What kind of verbal criticism is this, this is the encouragement of players around the world to me, this is love! Thank you all, I will keep up the good work!

Japan – National News BroadcastThe polished news anchor sat upright, her gaze sharp as she adjusted the stack of papers before her. The newsroom behind her hummed with quiet urgency, the weight of the moment settling over the broadcast.“Authorities are baffled by a sudden and unexplained surge in sleep-related deaths across Japan,” she began, her voice steady yet tense. “More and more citizens are passing away in their sleep without any prior health concerns. Experts are working tirelessly to determine the cause, but no clear explanation has emerged. Authorities urge the public to remain vigilant and report any unusual symptoms before bedtime.”A graphic appeared, displaying the spike in fatalities over the past month. Behind her, unsettling photographs flickered across the screen—blurred images of individuals found in their beds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror.The anchor’s tone shifted. “Health officials recommend citizens avoid excessive fatigue and maintain healthy sleep habits. More updates will follow as investigations continue.”---United States – Paranormal PodcastIn a dimly lit podcast studio, the host leaned forward, his eyes wide with curiosity. Across from him, a rugged man in a worn flannel shirt, gripping a faded photograph in one hand and a beer can in the other, leaned back in his chair.“So, you're telling me you saw this creature firsthand?” the host asked, clearly intrigued.The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Damn right, I did. Ugly thing had wings bigger than my body—slow but sneaky. Thought it could steal my pigs again, but I was ready this time—camera in one hand, shotgun in the other.”He slammed the table for emphasis, then shoved the blurry image toward the host. The photograph depicted a small, red-skinned humanoid figure with large, bat-like wings, its eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.“Spit, the thing didn’t know what hit it when I fired!” the man chuckled, his voice full of excitement.The host held up the picture to the live chat. “Alright, what do you think? Mothman? Demon? Or is our friend here just seeing things?”The chat exploded with theories—some skeptical, others eager for the investigation to continue.---China – Liangyuan Street MarketSurveillance footage from a bustling night market in China captured a chilling scene. A woman in a red qipao walked gracefully through the crowd, her figure striking in the soft glow of lanterns.Suddenly, she paused. Her body flickered—like a glitch in a video—before vanishing completely, as though she had never existed.The footage zoomed in, replaying in slow motion. In the final frame before she disappeared, her face distorted unnaturally, her eyes hollow and empty.The screen cut abruptly to black.

“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.