Corpo Age - Chapter 10: Sneaky Beaky Like Pt.2

“Black Myth: The Destined One” the mobile game, sent Li Ping'an back to the Journey to the West World where deities and Buddhas had perished, demons roamed freely, and the Three Realms had collapsed. The longer he survived, the stronger he became.Cultivation, Divine Skills, Side Techniques, Magical Treasures... and the like were obtained from the game and could even be taken back to the real world.Black Bear Spirit Bodhisattva, Shadowy Moon Demon Lord, Howling Celestial Dog, Hundred Eyes Demon Lord Bodhisattva, King Huang Feng Bodhisattva, Old Buddha Huang Mei... One after another, those claiming to be immortals, Bodhisattvas, and Buddha Ancestors fell beneath his staff.Only after he had acquired wealth and status in the real world through the Cultivation, Divine Skills, Side Techniques, and Magical Treasures obtained from the game, did he realize that the real world was nothing more than the Nineteenth Layer of Hell in the Journey to the West World...With an undying heart, at ease and carefree, the Destined One Li Ping'an embarked on Journey to the West once more!

One day, the majority of humanity had a collective thought.

‘I wish the world would just collapse.’

And then, that wish came true.

I’ve become the time-stop breeding uncle from an erot*c game.But the situation is completely f*cked up, so I saved the world first.Before I knew it, people around me were praising me as a hero.…..I don’t give a f*ck about being a hero, I just want to retire. f*ck.

“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.