The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!-Chapter 274: She Asked—Su Xiaobai Delivered!

"She said, 'split me open like Mu Tianlei.'"

He scratched his head.

"Well… request granted."

He brushed her ash from his waist like sweeping dandruff off silk, then incinerated what was left, clumps of hair, a half-finger, part of a nipple.

By the time Zhou Ping and Long Yushen came crashing through the trees at the sound of a woman's scream, their faces were pale and their spiritual senses were screaming.

They found nothing.

No blood.

No corpse.

No Su Xiaobai.

Just silence.

And a faint scent of perfume mixed with scorched meat.

For a moment, the two men stood in silence.

Their gazes locked on the charred crater, where only moments ago, someone had been fucked, drained, and carved apart like spiritual livestock.

Steam still hissed from the ground. Bits of burnt grass curled like dying worms.

Zhou Ping exhaled slowly. Something flickered in his eyes, not fear, not quite awe… maybe a mix of both.

"…Who was it?" he muttered dryly. "That new girl? Or that Iron Lotus woman?"

A crooked chuckle followed. Sweat dripped downhis brows like guilt. The forest was bloody—not just with blood, but the weight of knowing:

Su Xiaobai just killed one of them—again!

"Humph."

Long Yushen shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood.

Shut the fuck up.

His own fists were clenched, knuckles white.

If Su Xiaobai had truly begun his Night Purge, no one could say who would survive till morning... Not even them.

That monster wore a smile, but Long Yushen was certain it was Su Xiaobai who had pushed the siblings to their deaths, into a stream filled with ten thousand snakes.

It had to be him—there were no signs of blood or battle.

Su Xiaobai?

He was already gone.

A ghost among mist.

A predator chasing shadows.

His figure glided like a specter over the volcanic ridge, barely disturbing the ash that embraced the stones beneath his feet like ancestral sin.

His robes fluttered behind him like black flames, eyes fixed above.

There, he'd seen it.

A slim silhouette, barely visible, before the final moments of Wen Luli's scream.

A flicker behind the trees.

He was sure.

Ranran.

She thought she was hiding.

But he had Soul Marks on all of them, hidden in smiles, etched into their back when their guards were down.

At their level, they couldn't sever them.

Couldn't escape him.

Not until they jumped realms.

'So… what the hell are you doing here, Ranran?'

Su Xiaobai climbed slowly, silent, deliberate, each step pressing into the scorched obsidian of the volcanic ridge, his boots cracking the ancient black rock like stepping on ancestral bones.

The abandoned peak stretched before him like a rusted blade half-buried in the sky, weeping heat, glaring like a cursed sun.

No sane cultivator wandered here after dusk.

Which meant only one thing.

Ranran wasn't sane either.

'Why the hell would she even come here, after seeing me screwing Wen Luli? What now? Gonna backflip into the volcano? Launch herself like a spiritual firecracker and leave behind a suicide note in calligraphy?'

He squinted.

'Don't tell me… those sweet words I whispered earlier actually hit her that hard? Shit.'

The idea of her diving headfirst into lava actually didn't sound bad for a moment, one less variable to manage, one less headache.

But…

There it was again.

A strange... fluttering chill in his chest.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed.

"Fucking emotions… get back in the cage."

At the top, the volcanic mouth stretched wide, a circular platform about a hundred meters across. You couldn't fall in unless you walked near the edges, where the ground curved steeply toward the mile-wide abyss of flame.

It was a strange contradiction, searing heat from the front, but a cool, creeping breeze from behind.

The place was littered with fire-absorbing shrubs and bizarre, half-burnt trees that thrived on Fire Qi, their crimson leaves gently rustling in the dry wind.

And then he saw her.

Crouched behind a meter-tall bush.

Not far from the edge.

Her figure low, knees folded like a nervous bunny, but his eyes narrowed.

Behind her? Black wings. No—black and white.

From her scalp? White Horns. Twisted, small, but visible.

His expression didn't change. Just a low, unimpressed mutter:

"…So that's her true form. Makes sense why she always hides it."

The wings fluttered faintly as she peered toward the other edge of the volcano, flames below distorting vision, but figures were clearly moving in the distance.

Shadowy silhouettes.

Multiple.

"Grown horns and wings… huh. So that's what she really is."

His gaze sharpened. His soul mark called, faint, but unmistakable. It was her.

Not a doppelgänger. Not an illusion.

Just the truth under her disguise.

Ranran… a demi-human?

He clicked his tongue and vanished from sight, using [Flicker Steps] to mask his presence. Every footfall was silent. His breath slowed to a crawl.

He approached like a shadow held its breath.

'What the hell is she spying on…?'

______

Five minutes earlier…

Su Yiran crouched awkwardly, inspecting her ankle, which she had accidentally burned while getting ready to leave. That's when she heard it.

Fluttering wind.

She stiffened.

"Who?!" freewēbnoveℓ.com

From the shadows, a figure emerged.

Wings.

Black and... white.

Small dark ravens followed her, small but deadly. A dangerous aura followed around her like a ghost of the night, her eyes deep molten gold.

The face?

Familiar.... Slightly slutty.... Very deadly.

Su Yiran's brows twitched.

"Guardian… Ye An?"

The woman raised an eyebrow in mild surprise but nodded.

"Keep your voice down. A horde of Hunters is about to pass by—two Commander-class among them."

"...!"

Su Yiran's blood froze.

Two Commanders?

That was… Deity Transformation to Tribulation Realm range.

Depending on age and battle experience, they could flatten small sects like stepping on ants.

"Why here? This is a dead zone—"

But she didn't get to finish.

Ye An snapped her head to the left. Movement.

She grabbed Su Yiran's wrist without warning, pulling her behind a bush like dragging a kitten out of a burning building.

"Down. Breathe through your teeth."

Su Yiran crouched, awkwardly compressed beside the voluptuous demi-goddess, trying to peek through the leaves.

Nothing.

Only flame haze and distortion.

Meanwhile, Ye An's golden predatory eyes locked on something across the crater with

focus.

Su Yiran shifted slightly, whispering, "What do you see?"

Ye An didn't answer.

Just held still.

Watching.

Across the flame-lit abyss, the shadows stirred.

Like silk burning in a furnace.

"Lady Vaelzaar. Lady Sykarra…"

The words were spoken reverent, trembling like the final breath of a man who knew what beauty shouldn't be worshiped.

From the other side of the volcanic mouth...they came.

Two women.

And behind them, an army of horrors.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The ground shook beneath their steps, like an earthquake.

The energy they brought wasn't Qi.

It wasn't corrupted Qi either.

It was something else.

It crawled, slithered through space like the afterbirth of heaven, miasmic, alive, and entirely wrong.

The army marched in a choreography of abomination.

Nine hundred Raiders... One hundred Scouts... Ten Marshals.

The 'Raiders' were the sludge scraped from the belly of creation, twisted humanoids with Core Formation and above auras, each one shaped like the gods had sneezed mid-sculpting.

Some stood tall.

Others hunched and crawled like gargoyles.

Some had no mouths on their faces, but smiling teeth blooming open from their chests. One waddled forward on four backwards arms, dragging its bloated testicles like trophies. One had eyes stitched along its ribs, blinking sideways with every breath.

They didn't walk, they slithered, skittered, limped.

A carnival of rejected anatomy.

A visual sin.

They weren't people.

They were accidents that learned to be alive.

Then came the Scouts, lithe, sharp-nosed figures with green skin and nimble claws.

Elegant in movement.

Deadly in silence.

Their auras whispered Nascant Soul and above—but their eyes whispered cunning murder.

All of them raised by corruption from the same tribe: the 'Greenhorns', a now-extinct race known only to serve high-ranking Hunters.

And they weren't alone.

Ten Marshal-class Hunters hovered behind them, their spiritual pressure denser than gravity, cracking stones and boulders beneath their feet.

Their cores burning Spirit Severing or beyond.

Each one walked with casual grace, like men who could tear cities apart and still be late for dinner.

Yet none looked up.

None dared.

Because ahead of them… walked the true monsters.

The lead scout bowed, tail coiled, head down, a snake from the waist down, lean upper body oiled in shadow.

"Sssacrifice… lies below, my lady…" he hissed, not daring to breathe wrong.

And then... Lady Vaelzaar stepped forward.

Her figure alone shattered silence.

Her hair flowed like blades of storm-forged steel, strands of silver steel dancing around her like living weapons.

Her skin, a soft frost-blue glow beneath the glare of firelight.

Her eyes, two red lanterns lit from the inside with the promise of blood.

Upon her head curled two crimson horns, thin and elegant, like a wicked crown for a battlefield queen.

She wore black leather armor, its cuts designed for movement and agility—but still sinful in shape. Silver chains ran across her navel and thighs, holding together what little was left to imagination.

The armor hugged her, like a lover afraid to let go.

A sliver of her inner thighs flashed as she walked.

Her cleavage shimmered under the chains

not loud, not vulgar, but whispering: "You may worship, but never touch."

And her weapon?

A long spear, forged from frozen starlight and howling sins, rested against her back like a loyal beast.

Behind her, "Lady Sykarra" followed.

The other woman.

The one no one dared name without trembling.

Her skin, deeper blue, tinted by shadow.

Her hair, half white, half ocean-blue, curling just to her shoulders, like waves ready to crash.

She wore an eyepatch over her left eye, rumored to be ripped out in a ritual to gain clairvoyance.

No one knew if it worked.

No one wanted to find out.

Her body was wrapped in dark cloth barely to decency, scraps of silk bound by golden spikes, covering just enough to remain legal in three sects and outlawed in seven.

Her thighs, carved by goddesses.

Her ankles and wrists, shackled in gold bands lined with jagged spikes.

She held a chain—two meters long—dragging behind her like a serpent frozen in silver.

When she walked, the chain sang softly.

And her breasts?

They swayed with every step, each movement choreographed by unseen winds, the glint of sweat on her curves like moonlight on temptation.

No hunter dared stare.

Even the monsters behind her, those that had tongues in places no one should, kept their gazes down.