The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

"…Whose voice was that?" he said aloud.

WHOOSH!

He spun in a blink.

His glaive flashed, slicing the air like a blue comet, and landed directly at the throat of a figure standing behind them.

A boy.

Grinning.

Unscathed.

Wearing the tattered outer robes of Rising Dusk Academy—but he hadn't been with them.

Long Yushen's blade stopped a finger's width from his neck.

Everyone jumped to their feet.

Too late.

"Who are you?" Long Yushen hissed.

The boy tilted his head.

Smiling, and then, he opened his mouth.

And all of them wished he hadn't.

"I'm with her," the boy said cheerfully, his voice light, as if they'd just been introduced at a tea ceremony. "We're both from Rising Dusk Academy. Didn't I already mention that, Senior?"

The moment he spoke, Long Yushen's eyes flicked toward him. No smile, no words, just a sudden surge of pressure—oppressive. An icy gust rolled over the group like a collapsing sky.

The boy stumbled, instantly breaking into a nosebleed. "Ah! Senior is truly incredible. Your aura alone humbled me!"

"I didn't ask for flattery," Yushen said coldly. "I asked for your name. And you—" he turned his gaze toward the cloaked woman sitting silently at the edge of the group, "—what's your affiliation? I've never heard of any Rising Dusk Academy."

The woman didn't speak. Instead, she shot the boy a glare so icy it could freeze the leaves off oak trees.

"We are not together," she said flatly, tone devoid of emotion.

Even behind the veil, it was obvious—She had grace, bearing, and aura.

Zhou Ping stepped forward nervously, laughing awkwardly.

"Brother Long, she's with me! I mean, I brought her here…" he forced a grin, then quickly ducked behind the woman, leaning close to whisper into her ear, "Do you want to die? Brother Long asked for your name—just tell him already!"

He winced.

Truth be told, he didn't know her either.

She was a lone cultivator he'd stumbled across earlier.

And, being a man of refined virtue, when he saw a potentially beautiful girl, he did what any decent man would do:

He invited her in, of course.

The woman finally spoke, "Ranran. Distant relative of Ouyang Xue."

Hiss~!

The moment the name dropped, the group's collective courage wavered.

"Ouyang Xue?!"

"Wait—the Guardian?"

"The Goddess of the Wind Mirror Palace?!"

Even Long Yushen frowned.

Ouyang Xue, second strongest Guardian in the entire Wuxia Province.

A legendary figure. Untouchable, cold as moonlight, sharp as soulsteel.

"Remove your veil," Long Yushen said flatly. "And show your identification."

"Mm.." Ranran reached into her sleeve, and pulled out a registration token: A small obsidian tablet etched with glowing lines.

Name: Ranran.

Referral Guardian: Ouyang Xue.

You couldn't participate in the tournament without it.

It couldn't be faked.

Only issued by an official Guardian.

But…

Ouyang Xue was known to have never sponsored anyone.

Ever.

Everyone fell silent.

Zhou Ping, who had just been contemplating how to casually flirt with her,

Quietly stepped three paces away and wiped sweat from his brow.

A lizard can't swallow a dragon!

"Forget catching a dragon… I almost swallowed a tribulation." he muttered under his breath.

Long Yushen's eyes narrowed. "Your veil," he pressed again. "Why would Guardian Ouyang Xue sponsor you in secret?"

"This should be enough," Ranran replied coolly, holding the token steady. "No veil need be lifted. Unless you think Ouyang Xue is a fraud."

Long Yushen paused.

Then backed down—slightly.

His curiosity burned, but he knew better than to accuse a Guardian like Ouyang Xue without proof.

He turned back toward the boy.

"You. Do you know him?" he asked Ranran.

Ranran frowned slightly. She examined the boy again, light green robe, long black hair, average features. A harmless face, even a bit handsome.

Easy-going smile. Too easy-going.

But…

She had never seen him before.

And this man had claimed to be with her?

"No," she said, hesitant, "... I've never seen him."

Long Yushen took a step forward, his glaive blade covered with layer of sharp ice.

"You wear robes from a sect no one's heard of. Claim companionship with someone who denies it. Your aura is… nothing. And no one here can vouch for you."

His eyes sharpened.

"Either show your identification—or we assume you're one of them."

The word didn't need to be spoken.

Everyone knew.

Hunter.

The others reacted instinctively. Wen Luli moved her hand toward the hilt of her saber. Ming Kai and Ming Xue both activated defensive formations. Zhou Ping slipped behind a tree, muttering prayers to any celestial being listening.

Su Xiaobai had heard enough.

The suspicion, the threats, and the pointing blades! He gave them his best easy-going grin, the kind that made him look like a friendly merchant at the edge of a sect market.

Then he tilted his head and asked,

"Would this be enough?"

Bang!

He clapped his hands once.

And then—BAM!

Something enormous hit the ground.

No—many things.

The cultivators jumped back in reflex, weapons half-drawn—

"What—?!"

"!!?"

From Su Xiaobai's spatial ring, with the dull thud of meat against stone, seventy-two severed heads, spilled out in front of them like cabbages at a slaughterhouse.

The group backed up instantly.

Even Long Yushen took a half step back.

The heads were ugly.

Twisted, mangled, deformed.

Some had goat-like horns growing through their skulls.

Some had teeth instead of eyes.

One still had a human face stitched onto something that clearly wasn't human.

Blood leaked into the dirt.

Black...

Still warm.

Su Xiaobai crouched beside the pile casually, like a fisherman showing off his catch.

"These are Marshals," he said mildly. "Got a little messy—some of them bite hard."

Everyone was frozen.

Zhou Ping's legs gave out and he sat on a rock with a whump.

Even Ranran's eyes narrowed behind her veil, in pure astonishment.

Wen Luli whispered, "They're all… they're Hunters?"

"Marshal-class," Su Xiaobai nodded. "I didn't bring the Raiders. Too boring. And the Scouts stink like moldy intestines."

He kicked one of the heads aside, letting it roll over.

Its jaw hung crooked. A second one had grown underneath it.

The silence turned into fear.

Long Yushen didn't speak, but his gaze flicked from head to head, seventy-two Marshals.

And Su Xiaobai didn't look injured.

Didn't even look tired.

"The Hunters."

They were an ancient, unexplained plague.

No origin, no source, and no cure.

Kill a Hunter?

You're fine.

Get killed by one?

You become one.

A corpse reanimated by dark parasitic qi,

stripped of self, driven by a single need: consume.

It starts with "Raiders"—the newborns.

Mindless, savage, core Formation in strength.

Then they grow.

Raiders who consume enough become "Scouts", at Nascent Soul.

Speak in broken words, and use crude tactics.

After devouring thousands, they evolve into "Marshals"—Spirit Severing cultivators, capable of commanding troops.

Above them are the "Commanders"—

Deity Transformation monsters with complex minds and cold logic.

And beyond even them…

The "General-Class Hunters".

Rare, intelligent and ancient.

Said to be Great Ascension level or beyond.

Rumors speak of "Overlords"—apex aberrations who defy classification, but their records are locked by the Star Alliance.

Too dangerous to study.

And yet…

Su Xiaobai had dumped a mountain of Marshal heads like they were fruit harvest.

"I got bored," he continued casually. "They wouldn't stop following me. So I turned around and cleaned them up."

Zhou Ping looked like he was about to vomit.

"Cleaned up… Marshal-class? You just—just… killed them all?"

"They weren't polite," Su Xiaobai replied, as if that explained everything.