Path of Dragons - Chapter 79Book 8: : Homecoming

Chu Qing transmigrates to a world where women hold all the power. In this matriarchal society, men are judged solely on their looks, while women are expected to provide for their families. Men are only considered eligible for marriage if they have good virtues, while women must possess a house and a car to be considered desirable. Even worse, women who are financially supported by men are accused of being freeloaders, and some women are known to prey on younger men.

As the “school belle,” Chu Qing is frustrated by these rigid social norms. He believes that a man’s true worth comes from inner strength and character, not just physical appearance. With his ability to cultivate immortality, he sets out to prove that men can be powerful and valuable in their own right, challenging the status quo in this matriarchal society!

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Transmigrated into a xuanhuan Patriarch, this novel portrays the xuanhuan world as realistically as possible from the perspective of the Wang clan.There’s planting spiritual fields, raising spiritual fish, and the comprehensive development of various family industries. The Patriarch also raises salted fish elders (people who have no intention of doing anything) to become ancestors who assumed roles of protective umbrellas while inspiring his juniors to brave The Holy Land Palace of Learning in order to excel.Transmigrated into a xuanhuan Patriarch, this novel portrays the xuanhuan world as realistically as possible from the perspective of the Wang clan.There’s planting spiritual fields, raising spiritual fish, and the comprehensive development of various family industries. The Patriarch also raises salted fish elders (people who have no intention of doing anything) to become ancestors who assumed roles of protective umbrellas while inspiring his juniors to brave The Holy Land Palace of Learning in order to excel.

“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.

Wang Tianxiao was reborn thirty years ago, the day before the eldest son was born.

It was more than 20 degrees below zero, and the wife shivered on the cold kang with her big belly and three-year-old daughter in her arms.

In the pot, there was no firewood to be seen, and the bottom of the water tank was solidly frozen.

What a difficult start.

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