The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!

CRACK—BOOOOOOOM!

After Ye An's Descent, air turned to fire, rocks lifted, screaming, before being atomized midair.

It wasn't an impact... It was a judgment.

The kind of divine decree that didn't need a signature, just a body soaked in flesh and a will strong enough to shatter sects.

Her crash carved a perfect basin over a hundred meters wide, the crater hissed like a dying dragon releasing steam. Crash! Lava geysers ruptured from the edges, licking at the sky.

Where once there had been hundreds of Hunter beasts, scouts, raiders, two Marshals, now there was blood fog.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Chunks of twisted limbs rained down like cursed snow.

Weapons melted into slag, screams came from throats that no longer had bodies attached.

The remaining Marshals, still hovering, stared in horror. Half their armor cracked just from the blast radius.

Even their demonic cores trembled, like they'd been grabbed and shaken by fate itself.

"Sksksksk..."

The scouts began to back away.

Some dropped to their knees, sobbing, one pissed himself. "Ah..." Another slit his own throat, mumbling that the sky had opened and his ancestors told him to surrender.

The Raiders, though twisted, dumber and malformed, were not blind.

They had seen death.

This was worse.

At the Center – Ye An rose, like something ancient returning to the battlefield after eons of slumber, blood-drenched and wild-eyed... like a reborn deity of massacre.

Wings spread wide, bones exposed in some places. One eye glowed like a molten sun. The other? Glimmered black with a vertical slit, no longer human.

She stretched her arms.

And laughed.

Low at first, then higher.

Insanity sang from her lips.

"Worms… squirming in filth… how do you even pretend to be alive?"

Shhhh....

Her nails began to grow, long, curved, glowing red, no longer nails.

Claws.

Her fingers twitched, and then she moved, not vanished, but blurred, like reality refused to track her motion.

Shlick—!

One scout gasped.

A claw emerged from his chest, right through his heart. He looked down, then up, then crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been chewed by gods.

"One."

She turned.

Blurred.

Shlick. Shlick. Shlick.

Three more fell, their heads twisted clean off, eyes wide with terror even in death.

"Four. Five. Six."

Each kill whispered like prayer, her body moving with unholy grace. Not flashy, not explosive, just efficient madness.

The remaining raiders backed away. Even the Marshals took a step to the side.

"Cowardice... Disgusting…" She looked around, not at soldiers, not at hunters.

But at insects.

Her head tilted as if confused why they were still breathing.

She lifted her arm, lazily.

Five more bodies dropped, each claw skewering a different Hunter through the skull, pulling out what little soul they had like noodles from a cold broth.

"Too slow. Too soft. Too stupid," she whispered.

"You can't even scream in rhythm, and you want to compete with us? Pathetic."

Her gaze landed on one scout trying to crawl away. His legs were broken, face half-burned.

He whimpered, "… m...erc...y…"

Ye An walked up slowly, crouched beside him.

He trembled, tears streaking through his burnt flesh.

She cupped his face gently with one bloody claw.

"Mercy?"

She tilted her head, smiling.

"Do I look like a saint?"

SHLK!

She drove the claw through his mouth and out the back of his skull.

The body twitched, then stilled.

She stood again, eyes glowing with delight.

"PURGE!"

The word tore through the world like a divine verdict.

And the earth obeyed.

Spikes erupted, black, jagged, a meter long, rising like judgment from hell's garden. Not just one. Not a dozen... Thousands.

Within a ten-mile radius, the ground itself turned hostile, birthing spears of stone with no pattern, no mercy, only intent: extermination.

The Purge Domain had descended.

Low-intelligence raiders didn't run, they screamed.

Then they ran.

Then they died screaming, impaled from crotch to collarbone, flung skyward like meat skewers tossed by a deranged chef.

They tried to flee—spike.

Turn—spike.

Leap—spike.

Corpses bloomed like flowers of failure.

Even the scouts scattered.

Even the Marshals exchanged glances, silent but pale, avoiding the ground as best they could, hovering midair, floating just above slaughter.

And on the tallest spike, crouched like a queen above worms...

Ye An.

Blood dripped from her fingertips as she crouched low, her wings spread behind her like a bloodstained banner.

Her gaze swept across the battlefield she created.

And her lips curled.

Disgust.

They couldn't even hold formation.

These… creatures. These malformed relics of failed creation.Beings with less strategy than poultry, and they want to replace mankind?

Her contempt focused, finally, on two survivors.

The Calamity Sisters.

Sykarra.... Vaelzaar.

Their eyes met hers, and for a moment, a heartbeat stretched like a blade.

Something ancient stirred behind Ye An's gaze. Her pupils slit vertically. Her aura exploded futher.

And they felt it.

The shiver.

Not fear. Hunters weren't bred for fear. But instinct was deeper than will. And instinct screamed—

You are being stared down by an ascended.

Their cultivation sat at the peak of Tribulation Realm equivalents, they were death bringers, calamity-class monsters.

But Ye An was past them now.

A step beyond.

Except for Czaar, no one should take her on solo.

A thing with fire in her veins and madness in her soul.

Hiss...

Wind howled around the crater, the blood haze rose like incense before a slaughter god.

Sykarra's lips parted. Not in awe, but in something worse.

Memory.

"You…" she breathed. "You killed our brothers. All four."

Her fingers clenched the chain so tightly the links snapped, slicing into her palm, blood splashed like ink onto stone.

"The White Star… it was you all along."

Ye An tilted her head.

Smiled wider.

Her tongue lolled out, dragging across her lips, slow and filthy.

"Ohhh… you were counting them?"

She stood upright, spun once, arms wide.

Blood sprayed from her claws, spiraling in elegant arcs like demonic calligraphy.

"Four? Only four? Pity. I was aiming for six."

Vaelzaar growled, her fists trembling with restraint.

"You turned your own body into a bomb," she spat. "And you call us beasts."

Ye An's smile only widened."You're not beasts," she said, voice wrapped insanity. "You're worse.... Rejected scum of heavens..."

The Hunters had no wombs, no sons, no ancestors, and no names.

They weren't born.

They were errors—a deformity in the fabric of creation, vomited into existence by a universe too proud to admit it made a mistake.

No one on White Cloud Star knew why they existed.

Only that they devoured.

Claws, flesh, anything.

That was the only scripture they knew.

Some evolved.... Fewer learned speech.

Even fewer formed structure. Brutal, pitiless structure, hierarchies built on slaughter, not respect.

And among them… only seven ever formed something more.

A bond.

____

A thousand years ago, on the edge of the Galactic Fringe, a being beyond comprehension descended.

The Overlord... A Hunter of such scale and class that even General Czaar knelt before his will.

He spoke once.

Seventy-two thousand filth-born were sealed into a dead realm… all for an experiment.

No food, no light, no exit.

Just corpses and time.

They tore each other apart. Ate their own dead. Mutated through suffering. Became worse.

And from the ashpit of that purgatory—seven rose.

Not by fate, not by luck.

By claw. By pain. By pact.

Czaar, the anchor.

Vaelzaar and Sykarra, the mind and the blade.

The other four, brothers forged in marrow and memory.

They had no bloodline, but they had loyalty carved into their bones.

For a millennium, they tore through beasts, sects, planetary fortresses. Their presence alone could end campaigns. And in all that time, none of them died.

Until now.

Until they chased a ghost.

A whisper wrapped in flame.

A rogue Guardian, erasing supply lines, burning command posts from the shadows.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And on the third, four of their seven fell.

Not in glorious war.

But vaporized. Erased.

By a white star.

Czaar, enraged yet calculating, forbade retaliation. He needed control, not revenge. He ordered Vaelzaar and Sykarra, his two closest aids, not to pursue.

But grief has teeth.

And rage *refuses a leash.

So when Ye An revealed herself today, standing atop a spike, soaked in blood, grinning like a mad goddess, they knew.

It was her.

The Guardian of Blood.

The one who shattered their Pact.

"Stop running, you filth—!" Sykarra roared, voice filled with wrath. Her chain snapped forward, curling like a viper around a fleeing scout.

CRACK!

The body exploded midair, shredded into five wet chunks.

Splash! Splash!

But the others ran faster.

The Purge Domain still present. And no matter how they roared, they could not form an army. The Hunters were creatures of instinct, not command.

Herding them was like trying to align broken swords in a hurricane.

"Ugh…" Sykarra growled, yanking her chain back.

"Enough," Vaelzaar said, raising a bloodied hand, calm even now. "They can't bring her down. Let them chase the other two."

Sykarra spat blood onto the ground but nodded.

"Tch. Fine. We'll use the rats to bait the bitch."

She raised her arm and gave the command, the remaining Marshals took flight, speeding toward the other side of the ridge.

Toward the two observers who'd been watching from the shadows.

Ye An's red eyes narrowed.

"Oh?"

She licked the blood from her claw.