12 Hours After - Chapter 7 - Ten Thousand Dollars, Part I

The protagonist, Punk, is a cautious, cold-blooded, and ruthless Mage.

His goal is always his top priority, over feelings or morality. When unnecessary, he doesn’t like to act like pigs to eat tigers; there are almost no life and death struggles, sometimes risky but steady progress. No strong enemy everywhere, Instead, Punk is always a strong enemy of others.

And he has a very keen interest in the secrets and teachings of the Netheril civilization.

Transported to a garbage-filled planet in the interstellar era, Ji You was so poor she was nearly digging the soil to eat, but... the soil was toxic and inedible... With no other choice, she had to lower her standards and pick up trash and sell scrap, such as these beautiful grass seeds that no one wanted. She gathered them and threaded them into beads to sell online.But once she posted them online, someone left a negative review: 'Selling grass seeds? Are you crazy for money?'Days later, this person was pounding the wall in regret: 'I beg you, sell me a grass seed bead, just one! Just one is enough.'Ji You coldly responded: 'Not selling!'And then there's the sparkling stones lying all over the streets that nobody wanted. She picked them up, polished them into bracelets, and sold them online.People lashed out with their words: 'Selling such broken rocks - have you never seen money?'Days later, those same people were crying and wailing: 'I was blind, I was so shortsighted, to overlook such beautiful and pretty stones. I beg you, sell me one.'Ji You spread her hands: 'Gone.'

In a time when the Divine Prefectures of the East Sea were in great disarray, Emperor Ye Qing and Donghuang the Great appeared to save the day. Under their rule, the prefectures united and all nations as well as their kings have been controlled. However, the legend of these two great heroes becomes altered when Emperor Ye Qing’s name is wiped from the history books after his sudden death. All statues and images of him were destroyed and his name a taboo. Only the legend of Donghuang the Great shall live on.

Fifteen years later, a young man by the name of Ye Futian begins his journey in search for his true identity. The legend of Futian was going to be one for the history books.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.