Global Job Change: Starting With The Hidden Job, Lord Of The Death - Chapter 377 - 377 Using the Undead Touch, Little Fiery Man Becomes a Big Fiery Man (2)

Humanoid beast? Ahem…. Humanoid beast….

Because a female immortal sealed a mischievous and sly fox spirit into his right hand, ordinary senior high school student Liu Yi henceforth began his extraordinary journey as a immortal practitioner.

The fox spirit said:

“The prettiest girls in the class, the daughters of rich families, the evil female cult members, the beautiful women in the world of immortals? All these beauties are no longer a dream!

Come, become an immortal and even a diaosi could counterattack!

Come, become an immortal and kill all of the tall, rich and handsome!

Come, become an immortal and capture all the beauties!”

“Liu Yi, I said to capture all the beauties; not to capture me! Hey! Stop!”

- Description from Novelupdates

Anger. Pain. Desolation.

She was the heiress of the influential military and political Shen family. She possessed an exceptional face and a cool demeanor. Although she was the apple of her family's eye, she was disliked by her birth mother.He was the only heir to the immensely wealthy and powerful Fu family. Powerful, arrogant, and cold, he was the captain of a stealth corps and the youngest commander.To fulfill her grandmother's final wish, they got married in a flash. Initially, she regarded the marriage as a mere contract, but she did not expect to elicit his utmost admiration.

“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.