The Last Gentleman - Chapter 318: Dressing

Initially I am just another ordinary gamer. I often wondered how my novice skills compare with real masters, the professional gamers.

Then one day, two stunning beauties asked me, “Are you willing to be a professional gamer, and conquer the world?”

I replied: “Yes, I am willing”

After that, bit by bit, I unknowingly become a professional gamer, and conquered the world!

This is my story.

- Description from Novelupdates

# handsome # shortcomingdefense # strong

After dying on a battlefield, she was reborn as orphan Lu Xiaocha. She was in a peaceful world with delicious food she had never seen before. There were no endless missions or killings, and everything was lovely in her eyes.

When a luxury car rolled up to the orphanage, she realized that the original owner of this body was not an orphan, but a daughter from a wealthy family.

Also, she had a superb father, a mother who was a peerless beauty, five older brothers, and an uncle. But… Why did their family name sound so familiar?

Then, she recalled reading a novel before she died. It seems that her family… were all villains!

Great! She had fallen into a villains’ nest! But… this nest was so nice. Lu Xiaocha would defend them even if they were bad! Heh! Someone wanted everything the Lu family had? They’d have to ask her fist first!

A random man came over and said, “Chacha, come with me.”

“Do you think I need to?” Lu Xiaocha shot back.

“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.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.