The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!-Chapter 69: Give me a Break!

A/N: Alright, listen up, you demonic cultivators. The little skully ain’t in the country right now, so the chapters might come out feeling a bit half-assed. Yeah, I know, excuses, excuses. But cut me some slack—I’m juggling this shit like a drunk acrobat.

The updates will still roll in because consistency is king, but don’t expect them to be dripping with my usual brilliance until after the 14th of December. So bear with it, suck it up, and remember: even meh chapters are better than no chapters.

Now, stop whining and get back to reading.

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Han Xuan’s veins bulged, his face a picture of barely restrained fury. "You little—"

"I’ll help write the report?" Su Xiaobai interrupted, his voice sugary sweet with fake politeness, a smirk tugging at his lips like a mischievous fox eyeing the henhouse.

"Shut up!" Han Xuan snapped, rubbing his temples as though trying to massage away the curse that was Su Xiaobai’s existence. "You’re worse than a plague, I swear."

Su Xiaobai chuckled to himself, feeling the cold tendrils of Yin Qi snake through his veins. The sensation was intoxicating, like a forbidden drink that burned and soothed all at once. ’Perfect. This will nudge me into another breakthrough,’ he thought, excited, his expression betraying nothing but quiet amusement.

Around the arena, the crowd hummed with unease, their whispers spreading like ripples in a pond. Even Bai Yujian, the sect’s aloof sword goddess, had left her peak to investigate. Draped in robes of twilight purple, she descended like a celestial maiden from a painting, her movements elegant yet smooth.

Her serene expression betrayed nothing, but deep down, you just knew she was thinking: What kind of nonsense is going on?

Not that Su Xiaobai needed to hear the murmurs. The scene spoke for itself—scattered bodies, the metallic tang of blood, and the unmistakable stench of rotten carcasses.

The body count alone shattered the sect’s five-thousand-year record. No one—not a single soul—in the storied history of the Xiantian Sect had ever racked up so many kills in something as trivial as a Disciple Selection Tournament.

It wasn’t even a serious tournament! Just a glorified scuffle meant to weed out the weaklings. And yet, here lay a small graveyard’s worth of contestants, sprawled lifeless as if they’d wandered into a battlefield instead of a test.

Honestly, it was almost impressive.

— This wasn’t a victory at all.

It was a massacre.

An ex-villain joining a Righteous sect, now clad in the so-called robes of virtue—as if "Righteous" and "virtue" weren’t already an oxymoron.

No matter how polished the robes, trouble still followed him, creeping into every corner like an uninvited shadow. Wherever Su Xiaobai stepped, balance crumbled, and disorder reigned supreme. It seemed some things were simply written in the stars.

However, he wasn’t worried at all...

The dead were mere outsiders, expendable fodder in the sect’s grand selection. And him? A newly minted disciple with terrifying talent.

Who would the Xiantian Sect favor? The corpses, or me—the prize?

"Hehe… I’m a genius. No one could ever come up with a clever idea like this," Su Xiaobai thought, thoroughly satisfied with himself, as if he’d just invented the Dao itself.

With casual ease, he went about planting red flags everywhere, as if it were the most natural thing in the world—completely unfazed by the ominous storm clouds gathering over his own future.

The crowd became buzzing as more inner disciples arrived, their curiosity drawn by the blood. At the forefront was Liu Zhenhai, his golden hair gleaming like a lion ready to claim the throne. Behind him stormed Lan Meiyu, her face flushed red with the kind of anger that only betrayal—or humiliation—could cause.

"It’s like seeing a ghost," Liu Zhenhai muttered, his sharp gaze fixed on Su Xiaobai.

He couldn’t believe it, this guy was alive?

Lan Meiyu, however, seemed ready to explode. Her fists trembled, her knuckles white as bone. "Good! This time—this time—I’ll kill him!" she hissed, her voice shaking with fury.

"Meiyu?" Liu Zhenhai glanced at her, startled. Her fixation on Su Xiaobai was baffling. Is she still fixated to what happened in the cave? Her anger seemed almost childish—a clear contrast to the composed cultivator he knew.

But before she could act, another voice echoed.

"No. I’ll kill him."

The crowd parted instinctively as a tall figure stepped forward. Huang Shao, hawk-eyed and exuding an aura of quiet menace, strode into the arena. His dark blue robes shimmered with faint golden embroidery, marking him as one of the sect’s brightest stars.

Huang Shao wasn’t just any inner disciple—he was one of the top ten, a prodigy of the soul fusion realm, and a name that could make even the bravest cultivators think twice. However, despite his lofty position, he still ranked slightly below Liu Zhenhai—a fact that no doubt hurt his pride.

The sight of such ranked cultivators, usually buried in seclusion for years, appearing in the open was enough to throw the crowd into another frenzy. Whispers turned into shouts, curiosity teetering on the edge of panic. Yet, neither Huang Shao nor Liu Zhenhai paid any mind.

"Huang Shao? You made a breakthrough?" Liu Zhenhai’s frown deepened, his gaze sharpening like a blade. If Huang Shao had truly stepped into the late stage of the soul fusion realm, it was no small matter.

A breakthrough at this level was a leap, not a step. The implications were clear—if this were true, Huang Shao wouldn’t just catch up to him. He’d surpass him. And in the world of cultivation, today’s rival was tomorrow’s conqueror.

But Huang Shao wasn’t looking at him. His gaze locked onto Su Xiaobai, his expression a storm of rage and disgust.

"That bastard is here…?" Huang Shao muttered, his voice cold and sharp. His hand dipped into his robe, retrieving a scroll that he unfurled with precision.

The face staring back at him was unmistakable—it was Su Xiaobai, wearing the same infuriating grin that practically begged for a slap.

Thunder roared in his mind.

Months ago, after Li Gong’s death, his father had sent him this scroll with a single, clear command: Find this bastard. End him.

But Huang Shao had brushed it aside. His sole focus had always been the peak of cultivation, and he’d abandoned even his original name to bury himself within the Xiantian Sect, seeking power above all else. For months, he had been deep in seclusion, shutting out the outside world to refine his foundation.

Only today, moments before stepping out from his retreat, had he received the long-neglected message from his father—and when he finally looked, it was as if fate had laid the answer before him. That man? Here?

And not just here. This troublemaker was responsible for causing an uproar in the disciple selection event—a supposedly simple trial turned bloodbath.

"Bastard," Huang Shao spat, his teeth grinding. ’If this man is allowed to grow, he’ll become harder and harder to kill.’

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

The thought ignited his fury. While Huang Shao didn’t care much for Li Gong, a useless idiot of a brother, his death had been an insult to his family’s pride. Letting Su Xiaobai walk free wasn’t just a threat—it was a stain on his reputation.

Ironic, really. The best way to end Su Xiaobai was the same way Su Xiaobai had dispatched others—with one swift, decisive strike. Before the formal disciple initiation, the rules were… flexible. Killing Su Xiaobai now wouldn’t result in too harsh a punishment. And as long as Huang Shao lived to be the sect’s next genius, who would care about a dead troublemaker?

BOOM!

Golden light erupted from Huang Shao, his aura surging like a sun at its zenith, blinding and overwhelming.

The ground beneath him cracked and splintered as he launched himself forward, faster than a streaking comet. The sheer force of his killing intent flooded the arena, suffocating and absolute.

Somewhere in the distance, someone muttered under their breath, "Yup. He’s dead."

It was as if the universe itself had conspired to ensure Su Xiaobai’s last breath would be drawn today. Or so they thought.

___

Han Xuan didn’t notice anything strange at first. Crouched beside one of the bodies, his brow furrowed as he poked and prodded like a scholar unraveling an ancient mystery.

He was too focused. Too lost in his meticulous work.

"No Yin Qi… none at all."

The realization hit him like a slap to the face. His chest tightened as he moved from one corpse to the next. All of them—drained, hollowed out, completely devoid of Yin energy. It wasn’t just unusual. It was downright terrifying.

No puppet techniques could do this. No known cultivation art could leave behind such lifeless shells.

"Could it be… that brat causing this? No… impossible. Not at his level."

The absurdity of the thought froze him. Su Xiaobai? That cheeky kid who treated life and death like a game?

Yet, as his mind whirred with questions, time betrayed him.

Too late.

BAM!

An overwhelming wave of bloodlust surged toward him, thick and suffocating like the maw of a beast snapping shut.

"Die!"

Huang Shao’s roar split the air, his killing intent crashing through the arena like a tsunami.

Whoosh!

’Who now?’ Su Xiaobai barely had a moment to blink before a golden streak of light pierced through the air and slammed into his chest.

BOOM!

The impact detonated like the heavens cracking open.

"Ah—" Su Xiaobai’s body was sent flying, skidding across the stone floor like a ragdoll tossed by an angry child.

CRASH!

He collided with the edge of the arena, the impact so brutal that the stone barrier crumbled. A massive crater, nearly ten meters wide, gaped where he landed. Instantly, dust and debris erupted in a choking cloud.

"!!"

Gasps swept through the crowd like wildfire, a ripple of shock silencing even the loudest voices. Eyes widened, breaths caught. The crowd was stunned—every face frozen in disbelief.

"Dead? Good!" Lan Meiyu sneered, her anger momentarily giving way to smug satisfaction. "I don’t have to dirty my hands now!"