The Villain I Loved Has Broken Free and Transmigrated Out of the Story - Chapter 2

How should a normal human being, who has lived a normal life in a normal society since childhood, react when confronted by a great demon claiming to be a guardian deity and radiating an overwhelming pressure?

Yin Ya’s mind was in chaos. She was terrified, yet she felt she should cooperate with Cang Lanyan’s words, trying to suppress her overflowing fear.

After a brief internal struggle, even with a thousand groundhogs screaming in her heart, Yin Ya forced herself to remain calm. She widened her eyes, striving to project a mixture of terror and surprise.

If none of this was a dream, to avoid further trouble, regardless of whether she had written the villain as a guardian deity, a war god, or a god of death in her story, now that the villain claimed to be a guardian deity, she had no choice but to treat her as such.

Faced with Cang Lanyan’s expectant gaze, Yin Ya even felt she should play the part of a devout believer.

Despite her fear, she quickly got into character. Drawing on that invisible force to steady herself, she forced a smile and greeted Cang Lanyan proactively, “G-Guardian Deity, your grace.”

The bathroom window was open, and with the power outage cutting off the air conditioning and heating, Yin Ya shivered in her fleece pajamas after being exposed to the cold wind for a while.

“Your grace, the wind is too strong here. W-would you please move to another place with me?” she suggested, seizing the opportunity to improvise and striving to use archaic language.

Seeing Cang Lanyan nod, Yin Ya quickly crouched down to pick up her phone, stepped aside to illuminate the path out of the bathroom, and gestured, “Please, your grace.”

The power was still out. Yin Ya invited Cang Lanyan to sit on the sofa, opened a drawer in her computer desk, and retrieved a foldable desk lamp, placing it on the small coffee table between the two sofas.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Plain water is fine, right? Or… or would you prefer some salt?”

“Yes,” Cang Lanyan nodded.

Yin Ya was certain she had heard only “yes,” not “yes, either is fine.”

Considering the Merman clan lived in the sea, she decided to play it safe. She went to the kitchen and prepared a cup of strongly salted hot water, then diluted it with cool boiled water until it was warm but not scalding. She brought the cup to Cang Lanyan, watching anxiously as the Merman took a sip.

She quickly realized she had been trying to be too clever.

After Cang Lanyan took her first sip, she held the water in her mouth for about six or seven seconds before swallowing.

“Wait!” Yin Ya rushed into the kitchen, phone in hand, and returned with a cup of warm, plain water. “Please drink this instead!”

As Cang Lanyan accepted the cup, she casually placed the other cup on the coffee table.

Yin Ya glanced down and saw the cup of heavily salted water was still full.

Cang Lanyan slowly sipped her water. Yin Ya seized the opportunity to turn off her phone’s flashlight, slip it into her pajama pocket, and swiftly move to the nearby coat rack. She grabbed her down jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and hurried to stand before Cang Lanyan.

The remaining warmth from the air conditioning dissipated quickly. Yin Ya huddled tighter in her down jacket, racking her brain for what to do next, when Cang Lanyan asked, “Which clan does this territory belong to?”

“The Human Clan,” Yin Ya answered quickly, fearing Cang Lanyan might seize control of her speech again.

“The Human Clan, is it?” Cang Lanyan set down her cup, lost in thought.

Her reaction made Yin Ya’s heart skip a beat. She frantically recalled everything she had written, confirming that the Human Clan had never offended the Merman Clan. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief, cautiously observing Cang Lanyan’s expression.

Cang Lanyan remained silent, and Yin Ya dared not utter another word. Fortunately, the awkward silence didn’t last long. Cang Lanyan finally looked at her and said, “I need to stay in the Human Realm for a while. I would appreciate it if you could arrange accommodation for me.”

Yin Ya’s recently calmed heart leaped back into her throat.

The ultimate villain has decided to stay?!

She dared not find a hotel for an ancient demon with no knowledge of modern customs. Despite her inner reluctance, she steeled herself and asked, “My lord, though my humble abode is simple, it does have a bed and daily necessities. Would you be willing to stay here?”

In truth, Yin Ya was deeply uncertain. Cang Lanyan was the guardian deity of the Merman race, and despite enduring countless tragedies, her daily life had always been one of utmost luxury. Yin Ya feared her small rented apartment would be beneath the deity’s dignity.

To her surprise, Cang Lanyan agreed without hesitation. “It will suffice.”

Yin Ya nodded eagerly. “Then please follow me!”

Her bedroom was tiny, barely fitting a double bed, a two-tiered nightstand, and a small three-drawer storage cabinet.

To maximize space, the double bed was positioned diagonally. When the curtains were drawn, sunlight streamed onto either side. A narrow, vertical wardrobe stood between the upper and lower bunks, emitting a faint woody fragrance.

Yin Ya usually slept on the upper bunk, using the lower bunk to store miscellaneous items: half-read books, neatly folded clothes, and several of her favorite plush toys and throw pillows.

Considering Cang Lanyan’s lofty status, Yin Ya decided to offer her own bed. Holding a desk lamp in one hand, she pointed to the upper bunk and said, “If you decide to rest here from now on, I can make the bed right away.”

To her surprise, Cang Lanyan didn’t look up. Instead, she glanced at the lower bunk and asked, “Is this bed easy to tidy up?”

Yin Ya froze for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it’s easy. I’ll tidy it up right away.”

Tidying the lower bunk was much simpler than dealing with the upper one.

She asked Cang Lanyan to sit back on the sofa, leaving the desk lamp on the coffee table for illumination. Yin Ya returned to the bedroom to tidy up, switching on the rechargeable bedside lamp clipped to the upper bunk’s guardrail. She swiftly cleared the bed of clutter, stowing everything in the storage cabinet, then brought out clean sheets, a winter quilt, and a pillow, spreading them neatly on the empty bed.

As she tidied up, Yin Ya reassured herself there was nothing to fear. As long as she kept her author identity hidden, she was merely sharing a room with a benevolent guardian deity. Cang Lanyan was just a temporary guest and wouldn’t harm her.

Optimistically, she thought perhaps tonight’s events were just a nightmare, a bizarre punishment conjured from her guilt after abandoning her story. After all, how could a fictional character possibly cross over into reality?

She should try to sleep. Maybe by morning, everything would return to normal.

*****

After making the bed, Yin Ya drew the curtains and opened the door to call Cang Lanyan over. But the Merman who had been sitting on the sofa had vanished, leaving only the folded desk lamp glowing forlornly on the coffee table.

Startled, Yin Ya rushed out of the bedroom and found Cang Lanyan standing by the window.

The curtain she had drawn earlier beside the computer desk was now half-open, but Cang Lanyan hadn’t opened the window. Instead, she was gently tapping the glass with the nails of her right hand.

A ribbon floated behind her, swaying without wind and emitting an eerie blue glow.

Hearing the movement behind her, Cang Lanyan suddenly spoke, “Even the divine temple built by my clan with all our might pales in comparison to the creations of the Human Clan.”

As she praised, Cang Lanyan didn’t turn around, her gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window, as if completely absorbed by the view.

Yin Ya followed her gaze and saw the skyscrapers in the distance, their lights restored and their surfaces shimmering with a radiant glow. She couldn’t help but smile, though she modestly replied, “You flatter me.”

After a deliberate pause, when Cang Lanyan offered no further comment, Yin Ya asked, “Your bed has been prepared. Would you like to move to the bedroom and see if anything is missing?”

“There’s no need. Arrange it as you see fit,” Cang Lanyan said.

“Very well,” Yin Ya replied, bewildered.

What’s with the Big Villain’s Zen-like client attitude?

“It’s late. If you’re tired, you should rest,” Cang Lanyan added.

Good grief, she’s even taking over the host role now!

Despite her inner grumbling, Yin Ya piously wished Cang Lanyan “Good night.” Fearing a change in circumstances, she skipped her usual bedtime routine, hastily filled a hot water bottle, retreated to her bedroom, closed the door, removed the clip-on desk lamp from the railing, placed it on the lower bunk for Cang Lanyan’s use, and quickly climbed into the upper bunk, burrowing under the covers.

The bedroom fell silent. Yin Ya pulled out her phone to check the time—just past 12:30 AM.

The series of shocks tonight had left Yin Ya mentally and physically exhausted. Though she desperately wanted to end this miserable day, she steeled herself and opened the author’s backend on her phone. She tapped the latest chapter and scrolled straight to the bottom.

The final paragraph of the chapter contained the text explaining Cang Lanyan’s disappearance. Yin Ya pressed the delete key and erased it completely, ensuring the remaining word count stayed within the current billing range before clicking “Publish.”

But the very next second, a window popped up:

“Unable to modify this chapter.”

The app automatically refreshed, restoring the deleted text to its original state, not a single character missing.

Yin Ya stared in disbelief, her eyes wide.

This wasn’t her first time editing text, nor her first time deleting entire paragraphs.

Moreover, while the website had word count limits for edits, the error message for exceeding those limits was different—she’d seen it before.

Assuming the author’s backend was glitching, Yin Ya repeated the process: deleting the final paragraph and clicking “Publish.”

But after pressing “Publish,” the same “Unable to modify” pop-up appeared, its message unchanged.

“What the hell…” Yin Ya muttered under her breath, taking a screenshot of the error message and sending it to customer support via private message.

The website’s customer support was available 24/7 and typically resolved errors quickly. Within minutes, she received a reply: “Hello, after reviewing your author dashboard, we found no evidence of the issue you described. Please try again.”

Yin Ya froze for a moment, then a sudden realization flashed through her mind.

She reopened the chapter, made a few minor edits to unimportant descriptions, and clicked “Publish.” Her fingers trembled as she waited.

After a second of loading, a pop-up window appeared: “Changes saved successfully.”

Yin Ya’s heart leaped. Biting her lip, she made several more edits. As soon as the final “Changes saved successfully” message appeared, she immediately dragged the cursor to the last paragraph and deleted the entire section.

When the “Unable to modify this chapter” window reappeared, Yin Ya nearly bit her lip until it bled.

It wasn’t a glitch in the backend, nor was the chapter itself uneditable.

The only thing she couldn’t modify was the phrase “Cang Lanyan’s disappearance”!

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