Prologue

Liú Zhēn's fingers hammered furiously at the keyboard, the glow of the Heaven's Rule forum illuminating his face like a battle-hardened warrior preparing for war.

Leugen_Zen005:

"Is the author seriously PROTAGONIST-BIASED?! The protagonist gets it all: perfect family, gorgeous girlfriend, rare Heavenly Spirit Root, and rises to Head Disciple... while the villain suffers a heartbreaking past only to meet a brutal demise! Where's the fairness?! The villain's tragic end was actually moving, but no, let's just slaughter him and crown the protagonist a flawless Mary Sue."

Satisfied with his virtual mic drop, he clicked 'Post' and leaned back in his chair with the smug grin of a self-proclaimed crusader for literary justice.

Why was Liú Zhēn, a 20-year-old college student with a pile of incomplete assignments and a life resembling week-old leftovers, so passionate about a mediocre cultivation web novel? Simple: it was garbage, and he lived to expose garbage.

Take Mèng Xīngyào, the so-called villain. Here was a guy who started life with the difficulty setting cranked up to "hell mode." Ignored by his father, tormented by his stepmother, and left by his biological mother with nothing but a cryptic scar and a lifetime supply of abandonment issues. Despite possessing a bargain-bin Fire Spirit Root—barely good enough to toast a marshmallow—Xīngyào clawed his way into the cultivation world through pure grit.

And why? For her.

Ah, Lǐ Huāxiān, the female lead. To Xīngyào, she was the moon and stars, the dream girl who'd one day notice his devotion. but she didn't. She only had eyes for the protagonist, Mèng Yīchéng, who probably farted rainbows and sneezed stardust. The golden boy swept her off her feet with all the effort of a dust mote landing on silk. Bravo, author. Truly groundbreaking.

Things only got worse when the mysterious realm—cue dramatic music—opened. Xīngyào joined the expedition, eager to prove himself. But no, here came Lǐ Huāxiān with her patented weapon of mass destruction: crocodile tears.

"Please, Xīngyào," she sniffled. "Can you be the bait? We'll totally come back for you."

And because love makes people stupid, he agreed. He hurled himself into danger for a woman whose "kindness" was faker than a cultivator claiming they didn't need dual cultivation to break through.

Stranded in the realm, Xīngyào faced everything from demon beasts to spiritual exhaustion, surviving by sheer determination. He even uncovered a shocking twist: the scar his mother left him wasn't just a memento of her terrible parenting—it was a seal. Turns out, Xīngyào wasn't just a sad side character. He was a royal demon heir.

He met the ancient ancestor of the realm he was trapped in, who guided him in the ways of the demon clan and showed him the path to escape.

Then, deep in the abyss—the foreboding lair of demons—he encountered Shāo Yīn Mèng, the reigning ruler of the demon realm. Shāo Yīn Mèng, with a flair for dramatic revelations, filled him in on the soap-opera-worthy details of his bloodline. Apparently, his mother had betrayed the demon clan, murdered the rightful heir, and sealed him to suppress the truth and conceal her crimes.

Armed with this explosive knowledge, Xīngyào clawed his way to the top, fueled by an unrelenting thirst for vengeance and a burning desire to reclaim what was rightfully his.

He defeated Shāo Yīn Mèng, reclaimed his throne, and even compelled Shāo Yīn Mèng to pledge loyalty to him, solidifying his position as the rightful Demon King of the clan he should've ruled by birthright. Blood, sweat, and literal tears led him to this triumphant moment. Finally, the villain rises! Surely, this was the perfect setup for an epic showdown with the protagonist.

And then, the author ruined it.

Xīngyào faced off against Mèng Yīchéng, who sparkled like a celestial deity fresh out of a beauty filter. Just as Xīngyào was about to land a critical blow, the unthinkable happened—a butterfly. Yes, a butterfly flitted past, and Xīngyào, for reasons unfathomable, got distracted.

And that was it.

One moment he was an unstoppable force, and the next, he was impaled, bleeding out like a tragic afterthought. No epic final words. No dramatic monologue. His death was so abrupt it felt like the author hit the word count limit and panicked.

And don't even get Liú Zhēn started on Lǐ Huāxiān. Oh, she played the role of "pure white moonlight" well, with her doe eyes and hollow promises. But really, she was a two-faced opportunist who used Xīngyào like a disposable pawn.

"She used him and then cried over his corpse like she cared," Liú Zhēn grumbled. "And he fell for it. How can someone so powerful be so dumb? Are demon eyes defective or what?"

Liú Zhēn's crusade against literary injustice ended abruptly when he glanced at the clock: 2:47 AM.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "I've got class tomorrow! And my assignment's still not done!"

Panic flashed across his face before he shrugged it off with the grace of a man who had accepted mediocrity as his life's theme. "Eh, I'll wing it. What's the worst that could happen? Expulsion?"

After a sleepless night haunted by dreams of tragic villains and electric storms, Liú Zhēn woke to the sound of rain drumming against his window and his mother yelling from the kitchen.

"Zhēn'errrrrrrr! You're late again! Get up, you lazy bum, or I'll feed your breakfast to the dog!"

Late. The word sent him into a frantic scramble. Clothes were thrown on, breakfast was inhaled, and his family had the audacity to leave without him. Now drenched from head to toe, umbrella forgotten, he took a shortcut through the sketchiest alley in town.

That's when he saw it: a puddle spanning the entire path, shimmering ominously in the rain.

"Just water," he muttered, steeling himself. "I've waded through worse. Like that novel's plotline."

With sandals sloshing through the murky depths, he failed to notice the live wire submerged beneath the surface.

The pain hit like divine retribution—lightning tearing through his veins, muscles locking in a death grip. His last coherent thought was something along the lines of, "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

Then, silence. The alley returned to its indifferent stillness, leaving Liú Zhēn's lifeless body sprawled in the rain. Somewhere, the author of Heaven's Rule probably smirked.

Little did they know, this critic's story wasn't over yet.

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