Reborn as a Sidekick? Nah, Let Me Be the Villainess!

With a disgusted scoff, she said, "If I were deaf, do you think I'd be able to hear barking? Please, give me some credit."

To drive her point home, she casually stuck a finger in her ear and gave it a clean, like his voice was something she needed to scrub out of her auditory memory. Then, her eyes flicked back to the group, and for a split second, her calm exterior almost cracked.

How are they even walking around with those ropes tied all over them? In her head, they were flopping around like toddlers tangled in jump ropes.

Sometimes, Divya just couldn't fathom it. How does that single sad little rope hold this whole "look" together? Like, was it enchanted? Blessed by the gods? Or just stitched with blind hope and prayer beads?

She tilted her head, watching one of the overly dramatic cultivators twirl mid-fight, his robe flaring out like a cheap knockoff curtain caught in a tornado. When they fight and jump around, does that rope not beg for mercy?

And then the thought hit her like a slap. What happens if it breaks in the middle of a fight?

Oh no. She imagined the chaos: mid-battle, swords clashing, spiritual energy flaring... and then SNAP! The robe goes rogue, the guy freezes, and suddenly everyone's locked in a death stare, not because of the fight, but because someone's about to unintentionally audition for a nudist colony.

Her lips curled into a sly smirk. Do they pause for an outfit fix? Or does everyone pretend it didn't happen while the poor guy scrambles to cover himself with a spiritual energy fig leaf?

[This is purely for entertainment purposes. In the upcoming chapters, and the ones that follow, there will be a legitimate explanation and justification for the robes, so it's not meant to disrespect any culture since all cultures are valuable and worthy.]

"you!"

Lu Zhenyu pointed his finger at me, his face red with fury, probably thinking he looked intimidating. Spoiler alert: he didn't. "You! You disgusting woman! Do you think using such underhanded means to kill the leopard demon makes you worthy of being Heavenly Cult's top disciple? Forget it! You're not worth anything!"

For a moment, I just blinked. Oh, right. I was supposed to be in the middle of a fight, wasn't I? Not lost in thought about, well, literally anything else.

Slowly, I turned to face him, giving him a slow once-over. From head to toe, I assessed him with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to look at a clogged drain. "Despicable means?" I finally said, raising an eyebrow. "Says the man who looks like he just crawled out of one."

I squinted, pretending to study him harder. "No, really. Is this what happens when you skip bathing for, what, a decade? Or is this a style choice? Because if it is…" I paused for dramatic effect. "Yikes."

The crowd around us went silent, all eyes flicking between Lu Zhenyu, who now looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, and me, casually brushing imaginary dirt off my sleeve.

Xiao Yu stepped forward, her chest puffed out like she was auditioning for the role of Virtuous Heroine #1 in some low-budget drama. Her tone was dripping with self-righteousness, and honestly, if her posture got any stiffer, she'd snap in half.

I was trying to calm myself, really. I mean, violence isn't always the answer. But watching her strike that pose like she was about to deliver the speech of the century? It made my fingers twitch. Just a little punch, maybe? No one would even notice.

"Feng Feng!" she said, her voice trembling with what I assume she thought was moral superiority. "You, as a... a disciple of the Heavenly Sect... still dare to lie!"

She paused, dramatically, like she was waiting for applause or maybe lightning to strike me down. Meanwhile, all I could think was: Disciple of Heavenly Sect? Lady, I'm barely a member of the local gardening club.

Well, let's get one thing straight: Divya wasn't wrong. This Xiao Pang, the body she now possessed, was less a disciple and more… well, an unpaid intern. Or worse, a glorified maid. Sure, they threw the word "disciple" around to make it sound fancy, but really, all Xiao Pang did was weed gardens, scrub fountains, and, on particularly unlucky days, unclog gutters. The grand life of a "Heavenly Sect disciple," everyone. Applause, please.

Divya—well, Xiao Pang—looked at Xiao Yu, who was still basking in her imaginary halo of righteousness, and tried to suppress a groan. How could anyone radiate that much self-righteous energy without combusting?

Finally, Xiao Pang spoke, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Excuse me, oh almighty goddess of all things holy, but let me make sure I've got this straight. Are you suggesting that when the demon leopard was about to eat me alive, I should've just stood there? You know, sacrificed myself for your grand entrance, so you could swoop in and kill it all heroically? And then what? You'd get a round of applause, and I'd get… what? A gravestone?"

The crowd collectively gasped. Xiao Yu's face twisted, her self-righteous glow dimming like a candle in the wind. But oh no, Xiao Pang wasn't done.

"Let me ask you something else," she continued, her voice rising with every word. "Do you honestly believe you're that important? That I should just lay down my life so you can look good? Newsflash: you're not. And if you think for one second that I care about your self-righteous whining, I don't. So, here's a thought—take your crying babies and get lost before I lose my patience."

Now, Divya wanted to say all of this. She really, really did. But instead, she settled for pointing dramatically and saying, "If you're here to cry about fairness or whatever, save it. Just leave."

The truth? She didn't even know where the Heavenly Sect was. And frankly, she didn't care. But she was broke—beyond broke—and if she knew anything about this little fatty's life, it was that Xiao Pang probably had a stash of coins hidden somewhere. For now, she'd play along, but only until she could figure out her next move.