The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!-Chapter 112: Two Great Rivers!

The Hall of the Blood Warlord…

Vast. Gloomy. Unholy.

Pillars, thick as a dragon’s thigh, clawed toward a roof hidden in shadows. Their surfaces wept with carvings of—heaps of bodies, rivers of blood, and twisted creatures kneeling before an unseen horror.

The air was suffocating with the copper tang of spilled blood and something fouler... as if the Hall itself had been steeped in death for millennia.

At the far end stood two colossal doors. Black. Silent. Shut.

Massive and unyielding, they devoured the faint light around them. Bone and sinew coiled across their surface, forming omnious shapes—warriors kneeling, blades dripping crimson, and a faceless figure at the center... its void-like gaze promising death.

Beneath the doors sat a fountain.

Not of water.

A thick, viscous red spilled from the mouths of screaming faces carved into the fountain’s edges. It pooled in a basin, bubbling faintly as if alive. Blood? Qi? Or maybe the remains of fools who had dared to knock on those doors.

And to the right…

A hole.

A jagged, gaping wound in reality. It stretched endlessly, its edges rough and raw, as if the Hall itself had been ripped apart by a vengeful hand. From its depths, red mist coiled like restless vipers, hissing and writhing as if daring anyone to come closer.

RUMBLE.

The Hall quaked as the hole spat fire—wild, hungry flames that surged forward like a predator let loose.

Whoosh—BOOM!

A deafening roar split the Hall as the fire vomited out two figures, flinging them across the air like discarded trash.

Su Xiaobai and Zhu Qing.

WHOOSH!

They shot through the flames, limbs flailing like drunks on their first flying sword ride.

"Hold on!" Zhu Qing’s voice rang, sharp and commanding.

She spotted the jagged edge of the stone floor and didn’t hesitate. Grabbing Su Xiaobai’s arm mid-air, she twisted their momentum sharply, redirecting their trajectory.

CRASH!

With a hard thud, they crashed near a towering pillar, rolling across the blood-slicked floor.

Su Xiaobai groaned, sprawled out like a corpse, "Ugh… Next time, can we not ride the mouth of hell? Or at least get a better landing strategy?"

After rolling three and a half times—yes, he counted—he finally sat up, shaking soot from his hair. His eyes scanned the Hall, and his expression soured.

Scary walls? Check. Giant demon pillars? Check. Massive murder doors with a side of creepy fountain? Double check.

"This," he muttered, wiping soot off his face, "is exactly where we should’ve landed. Not that shitty pit."

Zhu Qing clutched her arm, wincing as she sat upright. Her robes were torn, streaked with ash, blood, and something that smelled suspiciously like regret. "From now on, you’re banned from making plans!"

Su Xiaobai glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Sure, she looked pissed, but her passive healing was already at work, and her reinforced robes had done their job.

Still, her tone screamed murder. Discover exclusive content at novelbuddy

"Hey," he said, shrugging lazily. "Not my fault my creative plans always work... eventually."

She shot him a glare that could’ve peeled paint off a sword. "Eventually, I’m going to stab you."

Su Xiaobai grinned, lying back against the pillar. "Make sure you aim for the good parts. Wouldn’t want you ruining the goods."

Zhu Qing straightened, her expression darkening as she started walking toward him with deliberate steps.

"Fuck…" Su Xiaobai’s grin faltered. Why was this woman so vengeful? A heart of a demon, no doubt.

For a moment, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Should I off her? Permanently? Now would be the perfect time…

But before his imagination got too creative, Zhu Qing walked right past him without so much as a glance, heading toward the massive doors at the far end of the Hall.

"Uh… I think we should be looking for an exit," Su Xiaobai called after her, confused.

Zhu Qing didn’t even bother to respond, her focus entirely on the doors. The faster they got out, the better. "There are no exits in the palace," she said flatly. "Anyone who enters can only leave with the Blood Warlord’s permission. But since he’s dead…"

Su Xiaobai’s stomach sank. "We’re stuck," he muttered. That explained why those pirates hadn’t dared to touch this place, no matter how many treasures it promised. What good was treasure if you couldn’t leave with it?

Zhu Qing, "We need to find the Blood Warlord’s throne. If there’s anything that can release us, it’ll be there."

She planted her feet and pressed her hands against the massive doors, putting all her strength into pushing them open. The stone groaned but didn’t budge. "Argh..." Zhu Qing grit her teeth, her arms trembling slightly, but it was no use.

"How strong was this Warlord, exactly?" Su Xiaobai asked, his eyes darting around the Hall. The sheer size of the place was enough to make his skin crawl.

Zhu Qing stepped back, her expression grim. "During his final battle, his strength reached the Human Immortal Realm."

"..."

Su Xiaobai’s face darkened. "The Human Immortal Realm? And you didn’t even think twice before dropping me into this godforsaken wasteland...?"

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

For a moment, he genuinely wondered if this woman was secretly trying to murder him.

Why does everyone want to kill him? Xiao Hei, that brat, had tried it. Twice. Now her? Was it his face? His charm? His undeniable talent?

Zhu Qing turned to him, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "What’s wrong, Little Villain? Feeling scared now?"

Scared? She didn’t think this man could even comprehend the meaning of fear.

"Humph." Su Xiaobai restrained a chuckle, brushing off her words like dust on his robes. "What’s there to fear? Strong or weak, everyone dies in the end. Even the heavens can’t protect you from that."

(⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠), Zhu Qing frowned, confused by his sudden confidence, but turned her attention back to the door. The veins running across its surface pulsed faintly, feeding into patterns she couldn’t decipher.

Nearby, the fountain’s crimson flow shimmered ominously.

"The Blood Warlord didn’t design this place for fools," she muttered, running her hand along the cold stone walls. "Even warriors bearing his token had to pass through here. To open this door, they would’ve needed… something. A ritual. A mastery of blood qi."

She glanced at the fountain, then at the veins on the door, her mind working for a solution.

____

Su Xiaobai crossed his arms, leaning lazily against the blood-soaked door. He watched Zhu Qing fumble with the mechanisms like a blindfolded fool searching for a needle in a swamp.

Sharp? Sure. Experienced? Maybe. But she didn’t truly understand this place. Not its veins. Not its pulse.

She didn’t know the Dao.

Not like he did.

The Dao... It wasn’t something you learned, or something you held. It was everything. Vast. Infinite. So immense it pressed against the world like an iron weight, shaping life, death, and the chaotic mess in between. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t cruel. It didn’t care.

The Dao was the shadow every warrior chased—and the trap every fool fell into. It was said to split into ’two great rivers’: the Dao of Righteousness and the Dao of Evil.

The righteous believed in the heavens, in karma and justice. They thought the Dao was a holy flame, meant to burn away chaos and forge the world anew. Their path was sharp and clean, like a sword cutting through lies. They liked words like ’honor’ and ’balance’. But in the end? Their swords broke, just like everyone else’s.

The heretics saw things differently.

They called the Dao a mirror, reflecting heaven’s true nature: cold, indifferent, uncaring. They believed heaven didn’t mourn the dead or praise the righteous. The only truth was power—taking it, keeping it, drowning the weak in it. They weren’t wrong. But they weren’t right either.

These weren’t philosophies. They were roads. Roads carved from broken bodies, paved with rivers of blood.

Zhu Qing’s former path, the Devil’s Path, was one of those roads.

It was tied to the law of slaughter, the most famous law in the lower realms. Killing to survive, surviving to kill. Simple. Brutal. And disgustingly popular among heretics too foolish or desperate to grasp the bigger picture. It worked because it was easy. Slaughter didn’t need enlightenment—it just needed a sword.

And the righteous hated it for that simplicity.

But the Blood Warlord? His road wasn’t simple. It wasn’t clean.

The Path of Life. At first glance, it sounded noble—healing, restoring, preserving life. But no one talked about the screams that came with it. His mastery of blood law wasn’t a gift; it was domination. Control. His will could heal an army with a whisper—or reduce it to crimson mist with a single thought.

The Blood Warlord didn’t walk the Path of Life. He made others crawl along it while he stood above, holding their veins hostage.

And yet, there were darker paths still.

The Abyssal Path, tied to destruction, where annihilation wasn’t just a method—it was an obsession.

The Path of Corruption, where souls and bodies were twisted into puppets, toys for the strong.

And the Path of Sin…

Ah, the Path of Sin. The forgotten road. The erased road.

It wasn’t just feared—it was gone. Removed from memory, as if the heavens had reached down and said, "this is where we draw the line". No one practiced it anymore, and those who dared… They didn’t just fail.

They didn’t just die. They fell apart, body and soul, as though heaven itself had decided their existence was an insult.

But all of these paths, no matter how vile or virtuous, were drops in the same ocean. Each law—whether slaughter, blood, or destruction—was a sliver of the Dao’s vastness. To master one was to inch closer to understanding the ultimate truth: the heavenly Dao.

And the heavenly Dao?

It didn’t give a damn about righteousness or evil. It didn’t care about saints or sinners, heroes or monsters.

In the lower realms, the divide between righteousness and heresy ruled everything—sects bled for it, clans died for it.

But that was the ignorance of mortals clawing at shadows.

To ascend beyond the Great Ascension Realm, to step into the realm of true Human Immortals, meant breaking through that divide.

The Blood Warlord had done it—he hadn’t just grasped power; he’d begun touching the strings of the bigger picture.

The heavenly Dao.

It didn’t care if you walked, crawled, or dragged yourself through the muck. It didn’t care how much blood you spilled or how much virtue you clung to.

All that mattered was how far you were willing to go—and whether your legs would break before you reached the end.

____

Zhu Qing stood before the door, her gaze conflicted as she inspected the veins. "This place is steeped in the Blood Warlord’s path. The law of blood and life..."

Su Xiaobai leaned against the door, his fingers tracing the veins. He could feel it. Faint but undeniable. The flow of blood qi, pulsing faintly beneath his touch.

"Blood," he murmured.

Zhu Qing turned to him, frowning. "What?"

"This door… It’s alive," Su Xiaobai said, motioning toward the fountain. "If we want it open, we need to feed it. Blood is the key."

Zhu Qing crossed her arms, her gaze skeptical. "And how, exactly, do you know that?"

Su Xiaobai shrugged lazily, a grin tugging at his lips. "Lucky guess."

"..."