The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

"EEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!"

Each palm struck the spirit, 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.

"!!"

Bai Yujian gasped, agony tearing through her soul as the Sword Spirit was cut down in front of her eyes. Her bond with the spirit burned like fire in her chest. Blood seeped from her tear ducts, but she didn't hesitate.

The sword. She had to grab the sword.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the hilt of the White Jade Sword. At that moment, the shield protecting her shattered into a thousand fragments, leaving her exposed to the crushing Buddha's Palm above.

Her hand closed around the hilt.

BOOM! Continue your journey on My Virtual Library Empire

A deafening explosion swallowed the battlefield. Dust and golden light erupted, swallowing everything. The heavens themselves seemed to pause in reverence—or fear.

"Impossible!"

Saint Wuji's smug grin faltered, his eyes wide with disbelief. Master Qingxuan's face twitched, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

No one... not even these seasoned cultivators, had foreseen this.

The loyalty of a Sword Spirit was the stuff of legends. Stories told by old men in teahouses. But seeing it? Witnessing the lengths a spirit would go for its master? It was a different kind of awe.

The Sword Spirit... though battered and torn, floated weakly. Her back faced them. She turned, glancing at the explosion... worry in her eyes. Dim, yet unyielding, her light flickered. Even near death, she radiated an unshakable aura.

Saint Wuji's voice broke, trembling as he muttered, "It's still alive...? What... what kind of monster is she?"

Master Qingxuan's gaze snapped to the mangled heap that was Wei Houtian, lying in a pool of his own blood, his face smashed beyond recognition. His breath came shallow, labored. A pathetic whimper escaped his lips.

Qingxuan's heart sank further. If Bai Yujian and that damn Sword Spirit survived this mess... they were all as good as dead.

"The Sword Spirit is the heart of the sword..." he muttered, dread seeping his voice as his hairs rose, a chill gripping his spine.

For any swordsman, the blade was more than steel—it was blood, bond, and bone. This spirit hadn't just emerged overnight. No... it was forged over centuries, thousands of years of unyielding loyalty and growth.

"Damnit!" he spat, cursing his stars, his ancestors, and the heavens above. This woman… this cursed spirit!

His hands trembled as he strode over to Wei Houtian, grabbing the broken fool by his shoulder. His grip was tight, almost crushing, as though holding onto him could anchor what little chance of escape they had.

"We're leaving!" Qingxuan hissed, dragging Wei Houtian like a sack of rotten potatoes. His voice cracked with desperation. He didn't even bother to glance back at Wuji. If the bastard didn't have the sense to retreat, then let him die.

Survival mattered more than pride. And right now, pride was a luxury he couldn't afford.

_______

"Master!"

The battlefield was chaotic, but behind it? A whole other world of wreckage.

The Warlord's palace was no longer a palace. The roof? Gone. The pillars? Rubble. The throne? Split like a cheap melon. Yet, in the center of the destruction, Zhu Qing floated.

Suspended in heavenly light.

Her eyes were closed, her clothes in tatters, barely stuck to her body. What remained left her exposed, bathing in divine radiance. She hung there like some forbidden painting—holy, untouchable, and a little too much for Su Xiaobai's spinning head.

He groaned. "What the hell is this? A strip show!?"

The generals knelt below her. All seven, battered and bruised, had somehow survived. Yet now they were reduced to kneeling grunts, their heads pressed to the ground like guilty schoolboys caught red-handed.

At the corner of the hall, Su Xiaobai noticed movement. The crimson glint of his armor caught his eye, and in the shattered remains of a mirror, the truth slapped him across the face.

The Warlord's Seal.

It wasn't just equipment... It was the armor itself.

Now it made sense. Why the Crimson Armor hugged the throne like a stubborn drunk at last call.

It was alive. A cursed relic, bound to the palace—and now, apparently, bound to him.

"Shit…" Su Xiaobai muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Woof!"

He turned. The Bloodhound, once a monstrous terror with three heads, now lay curled up in a corner. One head. One tiny, adorable, puppy-sized head. The former hellish beast now looked like it belonged on a silk cushion.

"You…" Su Xiaobai pointed, dumbfounded. "You're kidding me. You were trying to eat me an hour ago, and now you're this?"

The Bloodhound gave another pathetic bark, wagging its tail like a kicked mutt.

"Unbelievable."

At the edge of the room, Su Xiaobai spotted Xiao Hei. Sprawled on the ground, glaring at him like a cat who'd just been stepped on.

"You knew, didn't you!?" Su Xiaobai whispered, pointing a trembling finger. "You threw me into this damn armor on purpose!"

Xiao Hei didn't answer. She just smirked, propping her chin on her palm like a smug little devil.

"Of course you knew…" Su Xiaobai groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're always scheming something. You think I won't discipline you? Just wait till—"

His words caught in his throat as a deafening boom shook the heavens.

The fight outside.

Three figures tore the sky apart with blinding flashes of white and streaks of golden destruction. Su Xiaobai's heart sank. He didn't have time for this.

"Stay here!" he snapped.

With a thought, the armor vanished. Gone in an instant, yet its presence remained, pulsing within him like an extra heartbeat. He could feel it—lurking, waiting. An 'immortal' grade equipment. A real one.

No time to celebrate. Su Xiaobai swept the generals into his ring world with a wave, even grabbing the whimpering flower lady. He shot one last glance at Zhu Qing, suspended in her holy light, and froze.

Too much had happened—things he still didn't have answers to. Her losing control. Sucking the life out of him. What the hell was even going on?

Complicated. That's all he could feel.

He gritted his teeth, muttering, "I'll deal with you later," before launching himself toward the sky.

"Humph!" Xiao Hei snorted as his figure disappeared, leaving her alone with Zhu Qing.

Her lips curled into a smile. "Stupid..." she whispered, her voice low and rare, as her eyes flicked toward Zhu Qing.

The light around Zhu Qing intensified, the divine glow burning brighter, hotter. Her body trembled. Xiao Hei's smile vanished as she watched the impossible.

Zhu Qing's body… began to shed.

Piece by piece, her exisiting Immortal Vessel fell. Skin. Flesh. Even bones dissolved into golden wisps, scattering like petals in the wind. What remained was her soul—a tiny orb of light, floating in the divine glow.

The remnants of her vessel fell to the ground. Xiao Hei's eyes lit up.

Treasure…! she whispered, her smile returning.

WHOOSH!

She darted forward, snatching the fragments before the divine light could destroy them. Normally, anyone who dared step into such radiance would be reduced to ash. But Xiao Hei? She soaked it up like it was a warm summer sun.

Her body glowed. Her silhouette expanded, growing taller, fuller. Her childlike figure morphed as heavenly qi poured into her, and her eyes—now crimson orbs—shone with a wicked light.

The Bloodhound whimpered, curling into a ball, its single head refusing to look her way.

This was the brat who didn't die. The monster who bathed in heaven's wrath like it was bathwater.

______

Back in the sky above the wasteland...

"Did she die…? Haha…"

Golden Saint Wuji chuckled. Nervously. The excitement in his voice didn't hide the fact that, just moments ago, he'd nearly shit himself.

The smoke began to clear.

His words froze Master Qingxuan, who had been dragging Wei Houtian away like a sack of potatoes.

"Sword Fairy… dead?"

No. It couldn't be.

That woman wasn't easy to kill. If she had died, though… what about the Star Fragment?

Greed whispered in his ear. If she was really gone, there was still a chance. His chance. A slimy grin crept across his face, but then—

RUMBLE! — BOOM!

The first heavenly lightning struck, shattering his dreams like brittle glass. It slammed down onto the Warlord's palace with the wrath of an angry god.

"She succeeded!?"

The words slipped from his lips, trembling.

Everyone paused. The battle, the greed, the schemes—all momentarily forgotten. All eyes turned toward the blinding flash of light that followed the strike.

It wasn't just lightning. It was judgment.

Heaven's nod.

When the heavens assented, they reforged your vessel through tribulation lightning—a brutal trial that pushed body, spirit, and mind to their limits. Only nine bolts separated a cultivator from divinity, and Zhu Qing had just begun her ascent.

Her survival meant one thing: today, Zhu Qing would become something else. Something greater.

"Idiots! Eyes here!"

A voice snapped through the air, cold and sharp as a blade.

Everyone froze.

Their eyes widened.

It was Bai Yujian.

She stood tall in the air, her hand gripping the hilt of the White Jade Sword, its radiance shining like a beacon. Her clothes were in tatters, her body bruised, but she was alive.

But even she looked stunned.