The Reincarnated Villain Can Break the Fourth Wall!-Chapter 224: Su Xiaobai! — “I Cultivated So Hard My Furniture Moaned?”
Day 7 – "Tail Temple Worship"
Final day.
He sat on a throne made of fox fur.
Forced them to kneel, kiss, worship, and chant his name while stroking his rod in unison.
"This is your new sect technique."
"The Man-Milking Twin Tail Sutra."
They memorized it.
____
End of the week?
Su Xiaobai snapped his fingers.
"So now, you're not just my horses anymore," he muttered aloud, pacing around them.
"That's too basic."
"Today, you're furniture."
"Huh—!?" Hu Jiao'er blinked.
"You'll serve as my chairs. My footstools. If I'm tired? One of you becomes my pillow. Hungry? You hand-feed me fruits… naked."
He turned to Hu Mei'er, who squeaked.
"You, Mei'er—congrats. You're my new tea table. And if your tail twitches, I'm putting a scroll rack on it."
"I'll use you two like props until even Qi refinining disciples can't recognize your spiritual signatures anymore."
[Spiritual Petplay Formation Activated]
And Su Xiaobai meant it.
That day?
Hu Jiao'er became his personal mount, but not just in bed. He literally rode her across the ship deck during sunrise, tossing spirit beans to passing cultivators like he was in a parade.
He tied silk reins to her ears.
Her tail was braided into a saddle strap.
Hu Mei'er became his meditation cushion. He sat cross-legged on her back while she whimpered softly, holding a tray of tea on her tail as it trembled beneath his weight.
He invented the Spiritual Yin Milkshake technique—milking both sisters into a jade cup, blending it with a drop of wine, and sipping it while giving them grades on flavor, texture, and thickness.
They had to chant "Cultivation is service, pleasure is merit" before each session.
He painted spiritual runes on their bodies like tattoos. Each one glowed when they moaned.
"You two are treasures," he'd whisper as he pressed into them.
"But not because you're foxes."
"Because you're obedient."
Hu Jiao'er no longer glared.
She drooled.
Hu Mei'er no longer looked away.
She looked up—mouth open.
And Su Xiaobai?
He sat on the deck like a true villain emperor, Imaging Stone in hand, the projector still humming.
"Well done, foxes."
"You've graduated from Elder to Entertainment.
____
By the end, Hu Jiao'er and Hu Mei'er had new titles:
Sect Mount-Class Furniture
Fox Formation No. 69
Dual-Tail Yin Reserve
Spiritual Comfort Units – Bound Class
And Su Xiaobai?
Still undefeated.
Still hard.
Still evil.
And inventing new things to do with Imaging Stones.
____
Southern Ridge, Misty Vale Basin...
At the edge of corruption, between silver rain and death-soaked mist, lies the border town of:
Qingxie Port!
"Green-Evil Port" — known by travelers as Wet Market (affectionately... or mockingly).
Built on damp spiritual soil, nestled within the Vale's outer boundary, Qingxie Port is a trade town that never dries.
Literally.
It rains.... Always.
And during the Weeping Moon Festival, the heavens cry for 49 days straight, weeping fine silver droplets, soft as spirit silk, cold as ghost kisses.
Locals say it's the moon mourning the Yunmu clan... Outsiders say it's just good business.
The City Itself:
Qingxie Port is a maze of cobbled alleys, slick jade-tiled roofs, and curving stairways lined with paper lanterns. Spirit-light glows softly beneath the rain like veins of moonlight running through the city.
- Roads: Narrow, wet, alive. Stone tiles shimmer under the rain, covered in lotus petals and muddy bootprints. Most are arched, terraced, or built atop stilts to avoid flooding.
- Inns: Built like crooked pagodas, with steam rising from every floor. Spiritual bathhouses, teahouses, brothels—sometimes all three in one—dot the street like mushrooms in a forest of sin. The largest one?
"Silver Rain Pavilion", a four-story beast of pleasure and overpriced spirit food, with rooms that come with built-in mood arrays.
- Markets: Flooded stalls with waterproof canopies. Rainproof talismans sold next to soul-hooking incense. You can buy anything here—beast meat, formation scrolls, cursed rings, even a virgin contract (if you're lucky or rich).
- Guards? Ha. They don't interfere. This is neutral ground—where sect disciples, demonic wanderers, and black market cultivators drink together, trade, and sometimes double cultivate in public if you're into that.
And in the distance?
The Cloudwood Forest, visible only as a shifting wall of mist and trees behind the basin's end—ominous, breathing, alive.
Weeping Moon Festival...
For 49 days, the rain becomes sacred.
The moon itself goes silver, casting no shadow.
And the rain?
It's not normal rain.
It's Spirit Silver, charged droplets that nourish Rain Qi, enhance dream clarity, and make people feel... strange.
Sensitive... Emotional... Horny.
Cultivators report lucid wet dreams, sudden inspiration, and memory flashbacks. Some call it "the rain of past lovers."
Every year, treasure hunters, rogue cultivators, and pleasure sect disciples swarm Qingxie Port for one reason:
The Vale opens.
The gates shift.
And deep within the corrupted wilds—treasures wait.
____
[Southern Ridge – Qingxie Port]
17th Day of the Weeping Moon Festival
The sky wept silver.
Rain poured like strands of moonlit silk, falling endlessly from clouds so thick they looked like the heavens were rotting with grief. The scent of wet stone, spirit-soaked soil, and perfume from incense stalls hung like a lazy ghost.
The Weeping Moon Festival had entered its middle phase.
For seventeen days, the heavens hadn't stopped crying—and they wouldn't for another thirty-two. The silver rain nourished the Yin and Yang in all things. It made people reflective.
Sensitive, erotic and angerous.
Qingxie Port, perched at the lip of Misty Vale Basin, was alive.
And now, it was getting a visitor.
____
Arrival by Sky – A Flying Ship of Sin Descends!
RUMBLE...
CRACK!
Thunder echoed like an angry ancestor getting spanked.
Su Xiaobai stepped out onto the outer deck of his flying ship, the rain hissing off the protective array around it. His eyes narrowed lazily.
Below, the city glimmered under the rain—jade rooftops slick with silver water, stone alleys curved like serpent spines, spiritual lanterns hovering mid-air in soft golden hues.
This place?
It was a cultivator's wet dream.
Literally.
Fog kissed every corner. Moisture hugged to silk robes. People moved slow, graceful, as if the very aura carried the weight of longing.
Up front, Yu Feng stood under the rain-veil, arguing—coldly—with two Spirit Severing Realm guards in silver-gray cloaks.
They wore robes patterned with the Cloudwood sigil and wide bamboo hats that barely kept off the downpour. Their weapons weren't visible... Their killing intent was.
"Ten gold coins."
"Per person."
Su Xiaobai squinted. "Gold? Not spirit stones?"
What kind of backwards port charged in mortal currency?
Yu Feng sighed and flicked her spatial ring.
Coins clinked.
She paid.
For him.
____
[Boom!]
As the ship descended past the gate barrier and entered the formation-protected zone, a massive bolt of skyfire cracked overhead, splitting clouds with a shriek of divine metal.
Rain fell harder.
The flying ship, sleek and rune-etched, soared over the city like a traveling monument to arrogance.
People below stared. Even through the downpour. Even through veils.
All eyes locked upward.
Who dares arrive during peak festival week with a ship that luxurious?
The buildings below—were tall, crooked, and layered—gray-green tiles, black wood frames, and spirit-eaves that curled like demon tongues.
Women in translucent silk robes wandered barefoot, carrying incense burners or lanterns with trapped glowing dragonflies, which pulsed golden light against their damp veils.
Men wore rain-cut robes with wide sashes, hoods, and spirit-woven cloaks; travelers, treasure hunters, assassins, and wandering cultivators. Everyone here had a sword. And a secret.
At a moonlit street corner, Su Xiaobai saw a group of veil-dancers—barefoot women, hips swaying in the muddy street, veils clinging to their faces from the rain, sleeves flowing like phantom wings.
They weren't vulgar.
But every movement was soaked in ancestral seduction.
Only a slice of white waist showed beneath layers of spiritual silk.
Just enough to curse your thoughts for hours.
Lanterns danced above them.
The entire street seemed like a living, breathing wet dream.
Su Xiaobai grinned.
"This festival is trouble."
____
Before stepping off the ship, Su Xiaobai turned to the two white-haired sisters behind him.
Their eyes were half-dead, their tails twitching under their robes.
"Take care, my foxes."
"Don't get seduced by sect elders back home, or I'll have to discipline you again."
SMACK! SMACK!
"Ah—!"
The twin snow foxes flinched in unison as he slapped their butts, squeezing with villainous flair.
Their legs buckled.
Hu Mei'er pouted, voice shaking:
"Sister… I hope he never comes back…"
Hu Jiao'er, voice hoarse from too many days in villain service, patted her shoulder.
"Let's talk about that after our hips recover."
The ship lifted again—leaving stunned spectators behind, wondering who had arrived, and why there was no grand entrance.
Little did they know…
Brother Su had already entered deep.
_____
SPLASH. SPLASH.
His boots hit the muddy street like a spirit beast stepping into enemy territory. He walked calmly toward Misty Pavilion—the largest inn in Qingxie Port.
Naturally…
Yu Feng paid.... Again.
With a growl and a hundred gold coins per room, she made sure to book them separately.
Only two adjacent rooms were left.
She glared at the clerk, then glared harder at Su Xiaobai, knowing he was smirking behind her.
A bearded cultivator next to them muttered:
"Hundred gold coins? For a single room?! This is robbery!"
BANG!
Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.
Guards tackled him and dragged his ass out in seconds.
Su Xiaobai watched him get escorted face-first into a rain barrel, then turned to Yu Feng.
"I'd complain, but I didn't pay, so…"
____
Inside this evil city, even if you didn't find treasure during festival week, there were… other things.
The women of Misty Vale Basin were rumored to be of Yunmu blood—dark-skinned, curvaceous, sexy and mystical.
Their bodies? The stuff of brothel legends.
Their moans? Claimed to hold remnant spirit energy.
Some men came just to hear them whisper while riding. Others came just to try their luck… with more than one type of entrance.
