The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

"... Two monkeys scheming to ambush me? How amusing."

"..."

"..."

"Monkey!?" Master Qingxuan's face twisted like he'd just bitten into week-old tofu... black and blue, veins writhing under his skin like worms trapped in parchment. An insult? That was one thing. But in front of juniors? From a woman? Blasphemy.

His fists clenched, knuckles cracking. Rage boiled over, his voice trembling as he hissed, "You dare..."

Saint Wuji, the opportunist buddha, was no better. Bai Yujian's casual disdain hit him too, though he masked it with a grin sharp enough to gut a fish.

"Good." His teeth gleamed like a merchant spotting free gold. "Let's deal with her... together."

He turned to Qingxuan, voice dripping with fake brotherhood. But beneath the grin? Schemes. Once she's down, the old dog's next. And her? That sword wouldn't be the only thing she'd polish for him.

Wuji's fantasies shattered when Bai Yujian turned, her parasol dipping low, shadowing her eyes. She stared. First at him. Then at his golden robes. Then... at that smug grin stretched across his face.

Her lips curled faintly. Was it pity? Disgust? Maybe both.

The parasol spun once, snapping into place. Its jade handle... gone. In its place? A thin, unassuming wooden stick. The White Jade Sword? Gone too—along with its handle!

It wasn't just a weapon; it was the legend. The kind of blade that made men weep and legends stutter. Even sheathed, its radiance could scorch the eyes of the heavens themselves. That's why she disguised it—because blinding fools wasn't as satisfying as cutting them down.

But now, it had vanished.

Wuji, of course, didn't notice. His eyes weren't on her parasol, nor her hands.

No, his eyes wandered to places they shouldn't. Bai Yujian noticed. Her smile? It sharpened.

"Do you wish to die blind?" She said softly, "Keep staring, and I'll oblige."

Wuji didn't hear. Or maybe he didn't care. He raised his hands high, roaring, "Golden Wheel of Samsara!"

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Above him, the reality cracked. A colossal golden wheel tore through the void, ten meters wide, its edges shimming with the promise of decapitation. Vrrrmm! it spun, slowly at first, like a drunk monk murmuring curses at a funeral pyre. The spokes at its center—shinning, razor-straight—whistled with every turn.

"Surrender," Wuji growled, catching the wheel mid-spin—clang! Sparks spat. His veins bulged, arms trembling, "And I'll spare you. Resist, and this wheel will carve your soul so cleanly even reincarnation won't have scraps to work with."

Bai Yujian... waved. Not at him. Just... waved. Like she was dismissing a drunk uncle at a family feast.

Wuji blinked. Then laughed. "What's that? Surrender already? Good gir—"

"Who—!?" His instincts screamed. Slowly, like a man realizing he'd stepped on a snake's tail, he turned.

Behind him, the White Jade Sword floated unsheathed, its edge shinning across the dark sky. And behind it? A figure.

Tall. Radiant. Terrifying. Her emerald hair cascaded like a waterfall of jade. Her eyes, twin stars of anger, burned with the promise of pain. And her lips... that smile could've killed lesser men outright.

The Sword Spirit.

Worst of all? She towered like a mountain, her form immense, and the blade in her hand stretched a hundred meters long. Its radiance ignited the heavens, momentarily blinding all beneath it. Yet her blazing eyes never wavered, locked squarely on Wuji, burning with unholy wrath.

"Oh... shit," Wuji whispered.

Now, if you're new here, you're probably wondering: what's a Sword Spirit? Think of it like this: most swords are dumb chunks of metal. Fancy, sure, but dead. But when a blade drinks enough blood, enough will, enough 'everything,' it grows a soul. A Sword Spirit.

Out of millions of swords, maybe one grows one. It's like a pair of balls so colossal they make heaven itself flinch.

And one stood here, glaring at Wuji.

"[Azure Sky Slash]," she intoned.

The sword rose like a second sun, blinding in its radiance. Then it fell.

Clang!

Wuji threw his wheel up in desperation. Sparks sprayed as steel met sword—clang!—and crashed to the ground. The earth split beneath him, knees shaking, blood spraying from his mouth.

The sword pressed down, grinding mercilessly, shrieking as if to cleave him and the wheel in two.

"How...?" he gasped, trembling. "How does she have this here?!"

If the fool had bothered to do even a shred of research on Bai Yujian, he'd have known. A Sword Spirit. Rare enough to be whispered about in empires, let alone faced on the battlefield. But ignorance had its cost—and he was paying in blood.

Watching from the side, Qingxuan's lips curled into a faint smile. 'Good. Bleed, you idiot. Let her break you, so I can break her.'

The memory festered. Bai Yujian. That woman. Last time, she nearly skewered the king. If Qingxuan hadn't intervened, the royal legacy would've become a joke—a king, gutted by a woman. Unthinkable.

The thought burned. He didn't want to face her again—sharp edges, sharper words. But today was different. With Wuji as the sacrificial lamb, he'd teach her a lesson. Break her pride. Her blade. Maybe a few other things.

With the anger burning through him.

His trembling hand rose, his fury sharpening into resolve. "[Heavenly Devouring Cauldron.]"

WHOOSH!

Behind Bai Yujian, the air twisted, birthing a massive silver cauldron. It spun, sucking in spiritual energy like a beggar at an all-you-can-drink wine stall.

"!" Bai Yujian slowed, panic flickering in her eyes.

The Sword Spirit didn't. It turned from Saint Wuji, who let out a shaky sigh, relief washing over him like a coward spared from the fight he started.

Then the spirit screamed.

"EEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!"

The furious wail ripped through the air, sharp, like a banshee on a killing spree.

The White Jade Sword fell, unleashing a slash of intent so vicious it warped space, tearing toward the cauldron like it had a debt to settle.

Now, here's the thing about sword intent: it's not about swinging harder. It's soul. It's essence. A manifestation of pure, unrelenting dominance. Sword intent doesn't cut. It erases.

The Lunarforge Cauldron, for all its "immortal" name, learned that the hard way.

Crack!

The cauldron split cleanly in two. Its remnants crashed, useless. Even the storm above paused, as if muttering, "Damn."

Qingxuan froze, his hand twitching. His treasure. Gone. Years of forging, wasted.

"You... bitch," he hissed, composure shattering.

"Now!" he roared.

Wuji, still coughing blood, nodded weakly. He chanted:

"[Celestial Buddha Descent!]"

BOOM!

The sky ripped open. A massive golden hand emerged, fingers curled, ready to crush Bai Yujian like a gnat.

She reached for her sword. But it never returned.

Before she could move, the massive Buddha's palm descended, pinning her in place like an ant beneath a boulder.

Her eyes narrowed.
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Between her and the Sword Spirit stood... Wei Houtian.

His aura flared like a torch caught in the wind, flickering but powerful. He grinned, unsteady but bold. Raising his huge hammer, he pointed it at the Sword Spirit.

"Don't worry, Senior," he muttered, grinning. "I'll handle the slut spirit. You take the woman."

The Sword Spirit tilted her head. Slowly.

Her smile deepened, cold and cruel.

"Argh!"

Then — The Sword Spirit moved like a thunderclap, raising her leg high and slamming it down on him. BOOM! Her heel crushed his chest like a boulder flattening an ant.

Puchi! Puchi! Puchi!

Blood erupted from his mouth in a crimson arc, splattering the ground. With a flick of her wrist, she swung the sword toward Bai Yujian, its sharp edge splitting the very air.

The spirit could act independently, but there was one inconvenient truth: there was only one sword.

Bai Yujian's pupils shrank. The Sword Spirit was 'sending the blade back to her'. But her shield was already trembling under the crushing weight of the massive golden palm descending from above.

If she reached for the sword, she'd lose her shield—and be flattened into paste.

[Buddha's Thousand Radiant Palms]

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Thousands of smaller, golden palms shot out, rippling like a divine tidal wave. Saint Wuji's grin stretched wide, a snake savoring the moment before the bite.

And then...

BOOM!

The Wheel of Samsara roared, a spinning golden nightmare that tore through space itself. It shot forward, screaming toward her at impossible speed, its edges gleaming with enough sharpness to slice through heaven.

Even Bai Yujian's composure faltered. A weapon capable of matching the White Jade Sword? She hadn't expected that.

Moments earlier, the Lunar Cauldron of Master Qingxuan had been obliterated in a single strike. But Wuji's wheel? It absorbed the full brunt of the sword's power, its radiance unwavering.

In front of her, doom approached: the Wheel of Samsara. Behind it, the storm of a thousand palms. Above, the massive Buddha's hand that promised annihilation.

Every angle. Every move. It was calculated.

Saint Wuji licked his lips and sneered. "Checkmate."

"EEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!"

The scream tore through the battlefield like a banshee's wail. The Sword Spirit... she abandoned Wei Houtian, who crumpled to the ground, half-dead and utterly forgotten. With blinding speed, she hurled herself desperately into the barrage of palms, her glowing figure acting as a shield.

Each palm struck her, tearing through her luminous form, ripping pieces from her body. Blood-like essence sprayed from her spirit, dissipating into the wind. But she didn't falter.

"!!"