Gospel of Blood - Chapter 558 : Abaddon’s Emotions

From Man of Steel to Silver Superman.

Study the symbiosis for Iron Man, and bring back the little Morgan from the zombie universe.

Thanos of the Family Planning Office by hand, the comic version of the old Thanos. Even big-headed doll space watchers have to ask me for help.

As for Infinity Gems Ultron? Can’t survive two chapters of e-waste.

The blackened Clark, the unknown black robe, the Celestial Group, and the Time Management Bureau fought all the way with their fists.

Many years later, Lin Feng held the Cosmic Cube in his left hand and the Fire Seed Source in his right.

What? Why do you say these two things are humanoid?

Hiss… It’s a bit long to say this…

- Description from novelbuddy

Ren Zhu: Quiet! Quiet! Look at the blackboard! I’m going to start teaching!

Bear child 1 [1]: Hahaha! Who is this weak chicken!

Bear child 2: May as well dance than listen to class. Why start the class!

Fake good child: Sit upright.

Ren Zhu: ……

Bear child 1: You received the class teacher’s quiet gaze x 1. Physical strength -500. Entered the weak state!

Bear child 2: You received the class teacher’s deep gaze x 1. Intelligence -50. Entered the mentally retar*ed state!

Fake good child: You received the class teacher’s gratified gaze x 1. Intelligence and physical strength +50. Entered the excited state.

Ren Zhu: My goal is to teach and educate people, and bring love to every bear child. Thank you.

- Description from Novelupdates

The character he raised was a completely useless one which couldn’t even be used to see the ending, in other words, a total failure.

Not impossible, but refused…? It was absurd for a moment.

He woke up in a strange swamp in the middle of nowhere. As the very loser he had raised. “…In the first place, I wasn’t downloading anything illegal.”

A dark era running towards destruction. A survival story of a complete loser in order to return safely.

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“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.