Evolution of the Ruined Heir - Chapter 220: Gor’Mekhai

In the Holy Grail War, who holds the artifact and beats everything?

Gilgamesh! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

In the face of catastrophe, who can stand up and save the world?

Kurosaki Ichigo! Uzumaki Naruto! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

In front of the heroine, who can counterattack, the bull-headed protagonist?

It’s yellow hair! It’s yellow hair!

Who is Huangmao?

I am Huangmao!

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

An era where the desperate, miserable, and tragic tale of the six heroes who sealed the Dark Mage, who sought to destroy Maple World, became the favorite legend of children.

“The Cygnus Knights have fallen, the Resistance has collapsed, the Cross Hunters have been destroyed, and the adventurers have been annihilated. And the six heroes are dead.”

An era where no one dared to resist the reappearance of the Dark Mage and his followers.

“You are the only one left, El Paume. You’re the last adventurer.”

In that era, there was an adventurer who continued to fight until the end.

When the night came, there was a twittering sound in his ears, and the monster in the shadow began to move restlessly. Jason’s hungry stomach began to roar, and he couldn’t help swallowing saliva. Hunger is the best spur.