Condemning the Heavens - Chapter 590: The Past is Gone

Be an Uber driver, one Pagani Zonda rewarded.

Yan Qing’s sister, who has been sent down to earth, was schemed; designed to be a miserable female character in every life.

To save her younger sister, Yan Qing, a retired quick-transmigrator, full class man, once again set foot on the world shuttle journey to hardcore protect his sister and counterattack scumbags.

And then … ——

The real daughter who was kicked out of the House: sorry, my richest brother came to pick me up.

Abandoned White Moonlight stand-in: sorry, my elder brother said you lost your throne.

Face-slapped cannon fodder female partner: sorry, the country spoils my brother, my brother spoils me!

- Description from Novelupdates

With the flick of sleeves, it overturns.
With a thrust of punch, it shatters!
It’s a vast world filled with adept martial artists!

The ancient clash of the titans brings forth the wrath from heaven.
“They send down the thunder, they send down the fire! ”
They bolted the continents separating them into a land of 9 countries covering the 18 provinces, and the world therefore, ushers into the era resonating with the Dark Ages.

However, as the things run downhills, rise forth the cultivator team comprising the big deals.

Ye Shang, a young villager with a cinder burning in his heart thus, set off into the world of cultivation. A life-changing mystery! A competition for the throne! The winner becomes king!

What’s in store for him?

- Description from novelupdates

“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.