Behind the Scenes in Naruto World - Chapter 71: Who Asked You to Save Me?!

(Warning Mature Content R-18)After a catastrophic plane crash, a group of college students find themselves marooned on a mysterious, uncharted island teeming with an ancient, aphrodisiacal energy. As they adapt to their new reality, the island's seductive influence heightens their libidos, awakening latent powers alongside primal urges of lust, envy, and avarice.Beneath the paradise-like facade, the island proves to be a manipulative prison, thriving on their deepest desires and fears. Survival hinges on more than just overcoming the island's perils; it demands they confront the beasts within, where every alliance is tested by temptation, and every passion could lead to their ultimate downfall.

When Hao Shuai discovered that he had the ability to travel through the heavens…

What? Does anyone want this treasure? no one asked me to take it

What? This treasure is yours? But Pindao feels that this thing is destined for me

Remember, after I die, I must throw my body into the sea, because in this way I can continue to surf.

- Description from novelbuddy

Although Leng Ruoxue is born mentally challenged, she is the most beloved granddaughter of the number one general in the Eastern Lake Nation. She is despised by her fiancé and schemed against by her love rival. However, she is reborn as a powerful soul. This is a fantasy world, and also a world where the strong are respected. Cultivation, alchemy, weapon refinement, beast taming—the once foolish young miss has transformed into a stunning genius. Pill refinement and weapon refinement are all child's play. Heaven Grade medicinal pill? Even my pets won't turn an eye to it. Heavenly Treasure? I have the space to grow my own. Sacred artifact? Sorry, that's too low a level. I only know how to refine divine artifacts. Beast taming? My beasts deliver themselves to my doorstep.

“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.