Monroe - Chapter Three Hundred and Fifty-Eight. Fix the problem in front of you.

Tang Zhen transmigrated to an apocalyptic world, where humans struggled to survive in various buildings that they built because the ground was covered in lethal dangers that were invisible to the naked eye. Tang Zhen transmigrated along with his mutated cell phone that was packed with miraculous applications.

There were all kinds of cities – some could fly in the sky, some could submerge into the ocean while some could become invisible – and shocking secrets were hidden within them.

The power of Tang Zhen’s city was…

He established a city and quickly leveled up his army with speeding tools. Then, he dominated this alternate world by seizing other cities.

He sat at the very top. Beneath his feet was a vast floating city guarded by dragons and surrounded by angels. Countless cannons were also set up at various corners of the city.

A million miles ahead, in the depths of the ocean, there was another city as large as a continent awaiting his conquest.

When he arrived in this world, many familiar stories had yet to begin: Sleeping Beauty had not yet been born, the magic lamp lay buried at the bottom of a treasure vault, Snow White’s father had just remarried, and the Little Mermaid was still playing in the sea with her sisters. In the heart of the desert, the Land of Oz had not yet welcomed the girl named Dorothy.Then he came—the wizard of miracles and wishes.…Many years later, even illiterate children knew his legend: If you find yourself in the darkest abyss or hold the most fervent desire, you might encounter a handsome boy cloaked in robes in a distant forest or lonely mountains.He is the omnipotent wizard, the all-knowing prophet, the sage revered by kings, and the mentor of legendary heroes. He gave Pinocchio life, granted the Little Mermaid an immortal soul, and heard the pleas of both princesses and beggars.Now, it’s your turn.

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.

Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.

The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.

“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

“Nano Mashin?”

The boy’s face hardened.

Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.

The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.

“Um, are you really Mashin?”

The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

“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.