The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

For Evil Empress, it was just another day of conquest!

Immortals die every day—the upper realms are far more brutal than the lower realms.

Ning Gufan was strong, just as the Evil Empress had been, but now, neither had enough power to reenter the upper realms without being torn apart.

Even the once-mighty can fall prey to the merciless tides of fate. This is why Ning Gufan fled White Cloud Star, where he had once ruled without contest but now was hunted like a beast.

Normally, the inhabitants there were insignificant ants, but in his weakened state, even they posed a significant threat.

The cosmos is divided into upper and lower realms.

The upper realms are home to immortals who, with a flick of their hands, can shatter entire dimensions in the lower realms. The most notable of these upper realms is the Four Heavens—a realm of endless war and cultivation, where only the strong survive.

Those who cultivate 'Qi' in these realms are known as cultivators, but the upper realm's immortal elites rule over countless lesser dimensions.

These realms are controlled by Immortal Kings and those far beyond such titles—beings like Ning Gufan, who once commanded the Infernal Realm, or the Prison Emperor, ruler of the Prison Realm.

By contrast, the lower realms are simple, consisting of only thirteen large worlds. Both White Cloud Star and Immortal Rain Valley belong to these thirteen.

Other places in the lower realms are too small to be worth mentioning.

In his desperation to recover his strength, Ning Gufan sought a hidden place where he could refine Su Xiaobai's body—extracting the veins that held the key to restoring his poisoned meridians.

His plan was to hide and heal in peace, and Immortal Rain Valley seemed the perfect choice. It was vast, with no significant threats to disturb him. However, Ning never expected that the Evil Empress, another fallen immortal like himself, would find him and strike before he could recover.

His original intention had been to hide beneath the Nine Cloud Mountain, waiting for his strength to return.

After extracting the immortal treasures she desired, the Evil Empress discarded Ning's coffin and spatial rings with a sneer.

What remained inside were trinkets, useless to her but valuable enough to lure foolish mortals.

She believed she had stripped everything of value.

But, unnoticed by her, the coffin shuddered—just for a moment.

Inside, Su Xiaobai's body lay still, lifeless. But slowly, beneath the surface, veins pulsed with a dark energy, almost as if they had a life of their own.

His wounds began to close, the scorched flesh knitting together as his body slowly repaired itself.

It was as though some ancient force, lying dormant within him, had begun to stir.

Something far more dangerous than mere life — a power that defied death itself.

______

"Where… am I?"

Su Xiaobai's eyes abruptly blinked open, but nothing greeted him.

Only an endless, suffocating void, its oppressive silence coiling around his soul like chains. He felt weightless, adrift in a place where even time had lost meaning.

No light. No warmth. Just… emptiness.

"Abandoned… discarded… again?"

The thought tore through his mind like a jagged blade. Twenty-seven years. He had fought, struggled, clawed his way through endless trials, only to be cast aside once more, like a broken tool tossed into a fire.

But this wasn't the first time.

His heart clenched as memories from long ago surfaced—the first time he had felt this same cold emptiness.

Back then, when he was discarded after playing the villain in his first life, he had screamed into the void, pleading for recognition.

"I am Caine Wilson!" he had shouted, desperate for them to remember.

But just like now, the void had swallowed his cries, indifferent and cold.

And just like now, there was no answer.

The silence was infinite. Eternal.

His heart sank.

Then, deep in the shadows, it stirred. A presence so vast and ancient, it felt as though it had always existed.

Su Xiaobai's breath caught in his throat — The colossal being that stood in the darkness was beyond comprehension—too large to see, too powerful to grasp.

Yet its glow, faint and pulsing, radiated authority over all that existed.

The Fate Weaver.

That's what Su Xiaobai had named it, long ago. The one who wrote destinies, who decided which lives continued and which were snuffed out like candles in the wind.

It controlled everything, yet even it seemed... burdened.

For Su Xiaobai had learned something over the years.

The Fate Weaver, as omnipotent as it appeared, was not free

There were voices—unseen, whispering commands that echoed in the void.

The Higher-Ups.

They were there, lurking just beyond perception. He could never see them, only hear their cold, disembodied voices. Like faceless gods pulling the strings of fate, issuing commands that even the Fate Weaver had to obey.

"Rejected."

The words drifted down like frost, emotionless and final. The Fate Weaver twitched, its colossal form rippling in irritation.

It wanted to shape the worlds, but it was bound, forced to follow the will of those above it.

Then, the buzzing began.

___

The noise filled the air—so faint at first that Su Xiaobai almost believed it to be the last whispers of his own shattered soul.

But it grew, louder and sharper, cutting through his soul like a sharpened blade.

A swarm of voices, harsh and endless, gathered around him. The air itself seemed to hum with their demands.

The Ants.

They were Endless ... Faceless, voiceless, yet omnipresent.

Su Xiaobai could feel them, their criticisms tearing into him with each whispered word, each cruel thought.

They didn't care about him—they never had.

He was nothing more than an object of their anger and frustration.

"He's weak!"

"What a waste of time!"

"Kill him already!"

Their words pounded into him like hammers, each one more brutal than the last.

Su Xiaobai's hands flew to his ears, but the voices followed, worming their way inside his skull, crawling under his skin.

"They won't stop… they never stop!"

____

The Fate Weaver twitched again, restless. The ants were louder now, their buzzing filling even the colossal being with irritation.

Su Xiaobai watched as it shifted, the weight of countless worlds in its hands.

Yet, despite its immense power, it too was bound.

"Rejected."

"Change it."

"Toss it away."

Commands layered over the buzzing, spoken with such cold indifference that they felt more like the rustling of leaves in a winter storm.

The Fate Weaver sighed, a sound so deep that it reverberated through Su Xiaobai's bones. With a great, frustrated motion, the being reached out, its massive hand extending toward him.

Su Xiaobai felt the pull.

_____

He was lifted, weightless and helpless, into the Fate Weaver's grasp. His body dangled in its palm, suspended between life and oblivion.

But it wasn't just the sensation of floating that chilled him—it was the tearing.

RIIIIIIIP!

It began slowly, agonizingly.

His limbs stretched first, as though invisible hands were pulling him in different directions, forcing his body to tear apart.

His arms strained, the joints popping, his legs twisting until the pain became unbearable.

"Stop… please…" Su Xiaobai gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. But no one listened. The ants buzzed louder. Some praised him, others spat their venom at him, but all of them demanded more.

Always more.

And the Higher-Ups, still unseen, still distant, continued their commands.

"Tear him apart."

"Discarded."

Su Xiaobai's body felt as though it was coming undone, piece by piece. His arms, his legs, his very soul—it all torn—torn apart by their voices.

Every piece of him stretched thinner, breaking under the strain.

The pain was infinite.

Eternal.

And in his torment, he began to understand.

____

It wasn't just him.

It had never been just him.

The trash of worlds… he could see it now, clearer than ever before.

The endless cycle of creation and destruction.

The Fate Weaver creating, the Higher-Ups rejecting, the ants buzzing, demanding more. Worlds born only to be cast aside like forgotten toys. Characters, lives, destinies—all torn apart, discarded the moment they no longer served a purpose.

His eyes fell on the others—those discarded souls, drifting in the void like leaves swept away by a storm.

Their faces were empty, their eyes hollow....

None of them would speak to him...

None of them cared...

They were too far gone, lost to the same cycle of pain and rejection that had consumed him.

______

"I am Caine Wilson!" Su Xiaobai screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. "I'm… I'm the great villain! You loved me once! Didn't you…?" His voice broke.

It wasn't true.

They never had. He was only ever the object of their scorn, their hate.

The protagonist's fall had been his doing, and they had cursed him for it ever since.

But no matter how loudly he screamed, the rest wouldn't listen.

They never did.

____

His mind spun, like the fragile threads of his existence.

The Fate Weaver, frustrated and burdened by the ceaseless demands of the ants and the Higher-Ups, tossed him aside once more.

His body was ripped apart, shredded into pieces.

His limbs were pulled, his consciousness fractured, until he was nothing more than a tattered sheet of paper, torn and discarded.

And finally—finally—the buzzing stopped.

There, in the endless void—Trash of Worlds—Su Xiaobai's torn soul drifted in silence.

The pain was gone.

The voices, gone.

All of it, gone.

He was free.

For the first time in an eternity, there was peace.