The Sickly Emperor Is Only Immune to Me - Chapter 313 - 310: Weakness

“21 days. 7 hundred million won. 29 strangers. One unforgettable man.” Yoon Ji-won never planned to become a substitute driver. He never planned to be locked inside a building for 21 days with 29 dangerously attractive men. And he definitely didn’t plan to have his world turned upside down by a smooth-talking younger guy who won’t leave him alone. After a mysterious interview, Ji-won is thrown into a secretive, high-stakes project with an offer too tempting to refuse. The rules? Obey. Stay. Survive. But when he meets “Number Three,” everything starts to unravel. Cold stares. Lingering touches. A spark that turns into a fire he can't put out. Is it destiny? Or just another trap? For readers who crave intense power dynamics, isolated tension, and twisted attraction wrapped in a sleek, modern BL thriller.

In a fantasy world where everything depends on level, only ostracization and pain awaits a man that is unable to level, even if he was of noble birth.

But what happens he discovers an alternative source of experience…

Shen Ran transmigrates to a fantasy world and becomes a disciple of the Empyrean Sword Sect. Problem is, everything about him is ordinary— ordinary talent, ordinary temperament, ordinary life… In this cruel world where cultivation talent determines how far one could go, this means that Shen Ran’s future can be seen at a glance. Banished to the servant quarters as a servant disciple, his daily grind is to attend to mundane chores which will go on until he dies of old age a hundred years later.

Then he comes across a narrative modification system which makes it possible to rewrite entire lives! An avid reader of online novels in his previous life, Shen Ran relishes the chance to read the narratives of everyone and everything and alter them. The narratives modified by him will become reality!

This is the story of how he transforms his ordinary life by editing his narrative and going on to cultivate the Dao, handle calamities, and rule the ages. And he is limited only by his imagination!

“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.