Primordial Soul's Rebirth - Chapter 238: – They are dead.

When a terminally ill young man awakens in the world of his favorite childhood game, he realizes he isn’t the protagonist, the destined hero, or even a major side character. Instead, he has become an extra—a disowned noble barely clinging to relevance in a world where strength determines everything. Worse, his fate in the game was to die an early, meaningless death.Armed with only his knowledge of the game’s storyline and a common system that tracks his stats and skills, he is determined to survive. But mere survival isn’t enough. He remembers a hidden easter egg from a long-forgotten anime collaboration: the Mangekyō Sharingan—a power limited by game mechanics but unrestricted in reality.With Kamui as his trump card, he walks the fine line between fate and freedom, seizing power from the shadows while avoiding suspicion. As the protagonist and his allies battle against demons and unravel the game’s grand destiny, he secretly builds his own strength—manipulating events, mastering forgotten arts, and even forging ties with villainous factions.Will he remain a footnote in history, or will he carve his own legend in a world that was never meant to be his?

Wei Yuewu is the unloved daughter of the powerful Marquis Hua Yang. On her way back to the capital city to marry her fiancé, she becomes the target of a ruthless assassination led by her fiancé, Marquis Jing Yuan. With the help of the Prince of Yan State, she narrowly escapes from one disaster after another and returns to the capital. Determined to avenge her enemies and unravel the mystery surrounding her engagement with Marquis Jing Yuan as well as the death of her mother, Wei Yuewu makes a deal with the Prince of Yan State. However, just as she has triumphed over all her enemies and is about to reach the acme of her life, she deliberately destroys her own future and becomes an exile of her own…

- Description from Novelupdates

Being abandoned by his very own blood, the world stripped him of everything, his glory, his weapon, his beloved and even his name was taken away. He tried to reclaim what were rightfully his but the people already treated him as an outcast.With nothing left to do, he strode towards the place of no return and as he reached the deepest part by accident, he found a sealed casket with an unusual question engraved on its lid.'If the world's destruction would be put in the palm of your hand, how would it end?'Thousands of choices, hundreds of possibilities, and tens of answers, yet just one of these was certain.“I'll carve it with my enemies' blood,” he uttered underneath the moonless sky.On his hand was a blade made of glass, dripping with a crimson, sticky substance. In an era where war was an everyday occurrence and death was nothing but a mere consequence of being weak, his journey towards the labyrinth of revenge had begun.- - - - -Read at least six chapters and please be prepared to crave the rest. Enjoy Reading!

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.