Demon's Virtue - Chapter 152: The World

[Hottest Blood-Boiling Thriller]The Divine Level Expert from the apocalypse is reborn in the city. He intended to live a low-key, restrained life, but women broke off engagements with him, his family abandoned him, and everyone looked down on him…“I was low-key, but you forced me to be arrogant. Since it's come to this, then let Heaven be in awe, let the earth tremble, let the whole world go crazy because of me!” —Ye Tianchen.

Ye Yang, the 4th young master of the Ye cultivation clan, was once the weakest member of his family. His feeble cultivation and stagnant growth made him a target for bullying, and he was stripped of his chance to become clan head. While his peers surpassed him, reaching advanced stages like Qi Awakening and Meridian Opening Cultivation Stage, Ye Yang remained stuck at the 9th level of Body Tempering.Ashamed and defeated, he isolated himself from his family, refusing to meet anyone, including his mother Yu Mei and sisters Ye Ling and Ye Mu. Although his father saw him as a disgrace to the Ye family, he still tried to help Ye Yang overcome his limitations. In a desperate attempt to escape his misery, Ye Yang tried to end his life by cutting his wrist. But as he lay dying, a mysterious voice intervened:“If you don't want to live for yourself, then be mine and entertain me.”Ye Yang lost consciousness, only to awaken the next morning to a strange screen window:[Choice-based System][Welcome: Player Ye Yang]This marked the beginning of his transformation, as he embarked on a journey guided by the enigmatic System, confronting his dark past, and uncovering the secrets of his 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.