Cheat Awakening - Chapter 601 - . A Little Mischief

Feng Yun was an ordinary young man who was unable to cultivate. One day, He got the inheritance of the Ancient Yang Demon Clan and a mysterious sword. With these he became a super genius and started his new journey from a small town to heaven, sweeping across the world, vying for the supreme existence.

Meet Alex Knight, a hardworking young man burdened by crushing debt and a bleak future. When his new boss turns his life into a waking nightmare, Alex finds himself trapped in a job he can't escape, his future held hostage by the whims of a tyrant.Just when he believes he has one anchor left—his girlfriend's love—a devastating betrayal leaves him utterly broken.But then the world changes. The system descends, dragging everyone into a chaotic new reality. Alex becomes the first to sync with it, earning a mysterious title:[Apocalypse Baby][You have awakened the skill: Exploding Touch][Anything you touch turns into a bomb.]Armed with a deadly gift, Alex rises from the ashes of his former life to become an unstoppable force in an urban fantasy world where power rules and vengeance drives him forward.

When she agrees to help her friend out in a blind date, she never imagined it would lead her to the one man she'd hoped never to encounter again—her child's father.Her first instinct? Run. But life has other plans, and she finds herself inescapably drawn back into his orbit as his company's legal advisor.Just as she's poised to resign, escaping the tangled web of personal and professional ties, she's cornered in his office by the man who is as relentless in business as he is in pursuit of her heart.In a game of cat and mouse, she is faced with a choice: succumb to the undeniable chemistry that still sizzles between them or risk it all to maintain the distance she's fought so hard to keep.

“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.