Fate's Little Feral Consort - Chapter 1350

The Reticent Blade is, first and foremost, a wuxia novel, meaning that the world and its character’s powers and abilities are more grounded. Instead of cultivators who can soar through the heavens and shatter planets, you will find martial artists who can still perform superhuman feats but not so fantastical as to tear through space or achieve immortality.The world of The Reticent Blade is one of medieval China, loosely based upon the time period of the Ming Dynasty. It is a time of chaos and strife, where war and death are rampant. We follow the intertwining story of several protagonists and antagonists as they navigate the chaotic times, unraveling the threads that connect the past, the present, and the future of the world.The Reticent Blade is a story of heroism, love, revenge, and cruelty.The Reticent Blade is a story of both the righteousness and vileness of the jianghu.

“Honey, it’s time to take your medicine!”

The beautiful and pure saintess brought medicine to treat the wound.

On this day, he saw betrayal with his eyes, and experienced despair with his soul…

From this day on, the brave is dead, burn paper if something happens!

- Description from novelbuddy

Prince Heixinggen from the Swabia branch of the Hohenzollern family sees the turmoil in Europe and the impending war, deciding it's better not to stay.He embarks on land acquisition in East Africa, focusing on immigration and development, laying the foundation with agriculture, taking one step at a time, and leveraging the crisis to achieve industrialization.

“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.