A Girl Who Wants to Be a Beneficial Person to Society - Chapter 257: Love Dearly

Going against the heavens, Tuoba Ye reincarnated. Body concealing Divine Root, hands holding Divine Talisman, possessing previous life’s experiences, from childhood, began cultivating the most difficult body refining method: Mythical Nine Transformations.

- Description from Novelupdates

Chu Sihan, the county magistrate of Xuan Yue Country, is an exceptionally handsome prodigy who had risen to fame since he was a child. However, the National Preceptor prophesies that he would not live to the age of thirty, unless he marries the Lu Family’s daughter from Liu Yue Village.

When the spiritual barrier that has been intact for a hundred years is shattered by a meteor, spiritual energy that had disappeared starts to return.The mystical realm slowly begins its revival—magic, witchcraft, curses, supernatural lifeforms, strange and mysterious legends, monsters and gods from other worlds…The old world order collapses, yet the new order is mystifying and chaotic.Just before the unprecedented reformation is here, Tang Qi awakens and finds himself hung on the cross, having turned into an inferior demon and in great pain and agony…With his special ability to see through the nature of all things from the mystical realm and a sly and crafty mind, follow Tang Qi as he develops new skills and powers—as well as making new friends and allies—to battle and protect himself from never before seen supernatural threats in an unfamiliar world!

“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.