The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

A flashback from his previous life assaulted him—

A rainbow-colored flag waving on a certain beach festival.

Su Xiaobai's face paled.

No…

'Don't tell me…'

'This old man…'

He clutched his chest.

'HE'S INTO ME?!!'

Puchi!

Xu Tianran furrowed his brow. "Why are you vomiting blood?"

Su Xiaobai staggered back, dramatically clutching the sword. "N-nothing! Just the wind… it's emotional!"

Inside his head:

'No wonder he always stares from afar! No wonder he offered to give me pills personally! No wonder he said 'Don't die.' I'm being target-marked by a closeted Peak Lord!!'

Meanwhile, Xu Tianran stood silently, noble and expressionless, unaware that the young man before him was currently plotting to fake his own death if the old man ever winked at him.

"Use it well," Xu Tianran said simply. "This weapon once belonged to an ancient nation. Consider it… a life."

Then he vanished.

Boom.

One flash of light—Gone!

_____

Left alone, Su Xiaobai held the sword with trembling hands.

And not because he was touched.

But because he was suspicious. Deeply, disturbingly suspicious.

This wasn't the first time.

Xu Tianran—the cold, reclusive Peak Lord of Alchemy—had been lurking in the background of his life for almost a year now.

When Su Xiaobai went into secluded cultivation? Xu Tianran "just happened" to patrol nearby.

When Su Xiaobai broke through? Pills "mysteriously" appeared at his door.

When Su Xiaobai "accidentally" blew up a valley trying to test a sword formation using tears and lightning essence? Xu Tianran "coincidentally" cleaned up the crater.

And now… he gave him a sword?

An empire-destroying, quasi-immortal, shape-shifting, soul-drinking sword?!

Su Xiaobai's mouth twitched.

"Something's wrong."

"This isn't good fortune. This is the opening act of a BL novel."

He glanced to the sky, eyes bleak.

"What kind of protagonist plotline is this? I just wanted to be a sexy villain with a harem and questionable morals."

"Please… Heavenly Dao… I'll light incense daily, okay?"

"Don't make me the protagonist of some tragic romance between Master and Disciple! I WILL JUMP."

But then… he looked at the sword again.

The blade shimmered.

Shifted.

Its form danced with his thoughts.

One moment, a curved saber.

The next, a wicked black greatsword. Then a narrow stiletto. Then a double-edged immortal glaive.

It was…

Perfect.

"You dare follow me?" Su Xiaobai laughed to the heavens, face wild. "Good! I'll slice your damn fate strings in half with this thing!"

He raised the weapon, the tip pointing skyward, his hair rustling in the wind, his grin unrepentant.

"Go cry to your sect!"

"Go pray to your father!"

"This villain is going to soar the skies!"

And then he named it.

Because all great Xianxia weapons need a name.

Not just any name.

A name that makes people cough blood when they hear it.

"You… shall be called…"

"Myriad Goo Blade."

Even the heavens paused.

A nearby cloud burst into flame from sheer confusion.

"Because you'll slip into every style, every Dao, and every enemy's weak spot like goo."

"Sweet, clingy, murdery goo."

But of course, no one could say all that every time.

So he gave it a nickname.

A sweet, elegant, sinister little moniker.

"Guren."

(诡刃) – Deceptive Blade.

Trick Blade.

The blade that shifts with thought and deceives with form

___

In another realm, a certain scheming Gu Master dropped all his worms in horror. His hairline retreated.

"Goo blade?! No…"

____

Slash!

After fondling Guren like a cursed ex with shape-shifting potential, Su Xiaobai finally stuffed it back into his Niwan Palace—not because he was done, but because there's only so much weapon foreplay one man can do without combusting.

But the moment it slipped in?

He grimaced... That felt... illegal.

He pulled it out immediately, eye twitching.

"Nope. Nope. Not falling in love with my own sword today."

Instead, he twisted it into something sleek and sexy—obsidian jade beads, coiled around his wrist like a high-grade spiritual BDSM accessory.

Elegant.

Deadly.

"Now I look like a wandering war god with commitment issues."

But he wasn't done.

Because now?

It was time to test his Great Yin Reservoir.

His newest invention. The spiritual equivalent of a premium-grade Yin tank, built to store virgin essence like a wine cellar for horny cultivators.

Only problem?

He needed to fill it.

And not with just anything.

He needed light Yin essence—untapped, clean, a little dumb. Enough to activate the reservoir's intake valve, but not enough to destabilize his soul and trigger another cultivation orgasm that made the heavens weep.

In the past, this would be easy.

He'd just stroll into a village, smile at the first clueless spirit maiden tending radishes, and boom—"field harvest."

But right now?

He was in the sky.

Middle of the damn clouds.

Floating on a ship full of locked fox girls, grumpy dark church saintess, and no fuckable commoners.

"Tch. Who designed this mission? No brothels, no bathhouses, no bait."

Then it hit him.

"Wait… don't I have a spare virgin onboard?"

He turned, eyes narrowing.

"Zhao Mei."

That angry little tomato.

Orange-haired, fire cultivator, eyebrows like she wanted to stab someone with them. Walked around the ship like she had a vendetta against pants.

She'd been quiet, brooding training somewhere in the background with her spiritual flame fists and loser-tier talent.

He hadn't touched her once.

Not out of mercy.

Just... priorities.

But now?

She was the only viable source of starter... Yin juice.

Not enough to push him forward.

But perfect to lube the gears of his reservoir without causing soul reflux.

"Mm." He cracked his neck.

"Let's uncork the bottle."

He started walking toward the lower deck, each step echoing with that calm, casual bastard energy only a man like Su Xiaobai could carry.

"She's gonna throw a fit. Maybe try to punch me. Maybe cry."

"That's fine."

He adjusted his robe.

"I've milked cows with worse temperaments."

A pause, then a grin. "Plus, it's not like I'm asking. I'm testing a divine reservoir. She should be honored."

The moment he reached the stairs, he stopped, rolled his shoulders, and muttered under his breath:

"Fire pussy. Let's go."

Bang!

___

He stepped into what the crew dared to call a "bedroom," but let's be honest—it was a glorified broom closet with a bed stiff enough to count as a training dummy.

Perfect for a disposable test subject.

With a flick of his wrist, Su Xiaobai opened his ring world.

Whoosh.

Zhao Mei dropped out like someone getting evicted from a boring afterlife.

"Ah?" she blinked, disoriented. The space shifted.

And then—he saw her.

The girl who'd gone in as a moody, fire-throwing gremlin had clearly evolved.

Gone was the spiky tomato haircut. Now, her hair flowed like molten copper, smoothed down in a low ponytail that spilled over her shoulder blades and past her back—a straight curtain of orange flame. She looked like a rebellious phoenix who'd accidentally discovered the benefits of conditioner.

And the outfit?

Cultivator slut-core.

Black and crimson gauntlets covered her arms, red gloves covering her hands like she punched volcanoes for breakfast. Her legs were wrapped in similar armor—tight, high, combat-ready—but left those dangerous milky-white smooth thighs exposed just enough to make an Elder choke on tea.

Her upper body?

Encased in red and black armor that did nothing to hide the generous white softness pressing against it. Those breasts were being bullied by her outfit—clearly screaming to break free.

She'd thrown a fluffy white cloth over them, maybe out of guilt, or shame, or just to keep warm.

It didn't help.

"Skirt?" Su Xiaobai blinked, hallucinating for half a second. That deep blue cloth wrapped around her hips looked like a high-school uniform, like someone had raided his past life for fashion tips.

"Nope," he muttered. "Still in fantasy land. Got it."

She blinked back at him, no fear... Just quiet confusion.

Those eyes—dark, steady, still fire underneath—but flickering now with… what?

Surprise?

Awkwardness?

Annoyance?

Probably all three.

She didn't speak, just stood there.

It had been six months. Six whole damn months sealed in his ring world, with nothing but mountains, spirit beasts, and boredom to keep her company.

No contact, no missions, no affection, and no use.

Just storage.

And now, out of nowhere, here he was—summoning her back like a forgotten app he needed for one quick transaction.

Su Xiaobai smiled.

"Zhao Mei," he said, voice smooth as devil wine. "You've grown."

She frowned slightly. Not because he was wrong—but because of the way he said it. Like someone inspecting a sword he left in a ditch and found it shinier than expected.

"Why… did you summon me?" she finally asked.

Her tone wasn't cold. Just tired. Like she was bracing herself for the worst.

Smart girl.

Because the worst was exactly what was coming.

Su Xiaobai stepped forward, one hand lifting her chin—not forcefully, but firmly enough to remind her who the master was here.

"You've hit a bottleneck," he said softly, thumb grazing her lower plump lip like he was thinking about tasting her, "Peak Core Formation... Stalled and No progress."

She didn't deny it.

He leaned closer, "Good news is… I'm feeling generous."

She didn't trust that tone, no one sane would.

"I've invented something new," he murmured. "A little project. A technique. Something your body can… contribute to."

She blinked. "...A technique?"

"Mm." His fingers slipped away from her chin. His other hand casually undid the seal on the Great Yin Reservoir inside his Spirit Sea, letting it hum to life in the background like a beast sniffing fresh prey.

"A technique involving Yin exchange."

"..."