Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death - Chapter 22B3 a

This novel is also known as Fey Evolution Merchant

The shining stars and birds flying in the blue sky and white clouds, the fast shadow clouded leopards hunting and hunting in the vast grasslands, the acid eroded pythons hiding in the shadows of trees in the mottled rain forest, and the chalky Canglong dragon under the deep blue sea.

Lin Yuan found that he could allow infinite evolution of spirits, and continuously purify the bloodline.

Dust butterfly-stainless steel butterfly-emerald green butterfly-royal tourmaline butterfly.

This is a pure pet article, a world of beast masters.

- Description from MTL

On this land of real souls, with millions of different martial art institutions, there’re so many strong fighters just like the trees in the forests.

The strongest doesn’t need cheats.

Haruka, a high schooler who spends his life as a “loner,” is suddenly summoned to another world with his classmates.

Noticing the god in front of him, Haruka was going to get cheat abilities by picking what he wanted from the skill list so that he could live in the other world――or so he thought, but the skills were first come, first serve.

All the cheat skills were taken by my classmates?!

After not being able to get any amazing skills, Haruka’s “loner” skill made him unable to join any parties. Even in another world, he’ll adventure in solitude.

Haruka, recognizing the crisis of his classmates, decided to secretly help them out while not relying on cheats. He’ll surpass cheats as he walks the path of the strongest――.

Let the curtains raise for the tale about the strongest loner’s attack on the different 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.