Married to a Millionaire - Chapter 3: 00

The Non-Human Society is a shell of its former self. Its members are scattered and in hiding, and few if any have the will to fight any longer.Joining the Society, Renn has a single goal. To no longer be alone. Yet her membership comes at a price.Renn joins Vim, the Societies Protector, in hopes of preserving the last chance she has at finding a home and a place to belong.What to expect?- An immersive world-building and character focused story!- A typical, but fleshed out, low-fantasy world. Regrettably, the only numbers that go up here are the chapter and word counts...! And my debt, but let's not talk about that.- A more down to earth, sometimes somber story. But there is hope!- A huge world to get lost in. Lots of content. Over 1M words written already!- Side-Stories! Now released once a month.- A tiny sliver of my heart... forever yours!

Have you ever read a story? So stupid and senseless that it makes your blood boil and makes you pity even the villain of the novel. if you haven't that's fine because our protagonist did.“FROM WHERE THE FUCK DID NTR COME FROM?”He threw his console controller on the which did a cartoonish bounce and formed a bump on his forehead.------“Wait! What's this place!?”The moment he woke he found himself in a strange location never been visited by him ever before.------“No!! No!! No!! How the hell did I end in the body of this cucked villain! Why did I end up in this body!!”He lamented when looked at his face in the mirror that got beaten blue by the protagonist of the game.------“Don't worry, Riech. I will fulfill your and fucking kill the bastard and fuck his mother and avenge you!”He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth in anger vowing to take revenge.

Countless planets, endless cultivation.

The struggle for the Dao has persisted for thousands of years.

Miao Xiaojing, a junior disciple of the Evolutionary Immortality Sect, suffered the destruction of his sect, and was thrown into the vast river of fate.

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“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.