Million Times Talent - Chapter 151: Blood beads

[Unique Ability: Curse of Fear – Causes extreme stress and fear to any living creature within a 50m radius.]…But why am I okay?

The idiot Long Gen pretends to be a pig and eats a tiger, takes advantage of the girls in the village, travels across the countryside and forests, monopolizes the beauty and coquettishness, and achieves the legend of “Dragon Gen”. There is a widow in front of the door leaning on the door to watch, and a sister-in-law next door looking through the screen window… This book is determined to be a stallion, with the goal of pushing down and being pushed.

- Description from novelbuddy

System: You are now a lowly male supporting role, a passerby who wants to go offline at any time, please keep secretly and grow vulgarly.
Shi Yan: Very good, thank you for your suggestion.
The first world: Shi Yan, as a little prince born in a cold palace, made himself an emperor.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The second world: Shi Yan, as the youngest son of the princess who died tragically, made himself a powerful minister over ten thousand people.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The nth world: Shi Yan, as a genius in the world of comprehension, has made himself the number one powerhouse in the Three Realms.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The system feels that something is wrong.
Shi Yan instead persuaded him: Let the male and female protagonists come together in the end no matter what the circumstances are, isn’t it the self-cultivation of the tool man and the male partner?

Content tags: Kuaichuan Shuangwen Metaphysics
Search keywords: Protagonist: Shi Yan ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:
One sentence introduction: The male partner is beautiful alone
Purpose: strong heart, unmoved by wind and rain

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.