Real Empress from a Noble Family - Chapter 385 - Sir Jibei's Choice

Caelen died doing what he loved most: playing survival games non-stop like a sleep-deprived goblin. Unfortunately, dying in your chair from gaming overload isn’t exactly what you’d call a dignified exit. Even God laughed at him.But lucky for Caelen, or maybe unlucky, he gets a second chance in the world of his favorite survival game. It’s a brutal fantasy realm full of monsters, magic, swords… and absolutely zero indoor plumbing.Armed with only a stone pickaxe, a limited-use “Google Brain” search skill, and the stubbornness of a man who once built a Minecraft mansion out of dirt, Caelen sets out to survive. But surviving isn’t enough he wants to upgrade the world. Electricity? Toilets? Toasted bread? Why not all three?As he fends off nighttime horrors, awkwardly crafts furniture, and tries to avoid becoming monster chow, Caelen has one mission: bring modern convenience to a medieval world, one ridiculous invention at a time.And maybe, just maybe… not die again in a chair.[System Notes:No Ntr, No Yuri(gl), No Yaoi(bl)]

Shen Ran transmigrates to a fantasy world and becomes a disciple of the Empyrean Sword Sect. Problem is, everything about him is ordinary— ordinary talent, ordinary temperament, ordinary life… In this cruel world where cultivation talent determines how far one could go, this means that Shen Ran’s future can be seen at a glance. Banished to the servant quarters as a servant disciple, his daily grind is to attend to mundane chores which will go on until he dies of old age a hundred years later.

Then he comes across a narrative modification system which makes it possible to rewrite entire lives! An avid reader of online novels in his previous life, Shen Ran relishes the chance to read the narratives of everyone and everything and alter them. The narratives modified by him will become reality!

This is the story of how he transforms his ordinary life by editing his narrative and going on to cultivate the Dao, handle calamities, and rule the ages. And he is limited only by his imagination!

“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.