Naruto: Unlocking Kaido Template - Chapter 227

In a world where martial artists reign supreme, strength is everything. Unfortunately, that logic doesn't apply to a certain Florida Man.

Refined in the nuclear fallout wasteland, Leo was the strongest mutant alive. He carried an alien artifact, allowing him to exchange his lifespan for modern items. After 50,000 years of solitary life in a humanless world, he collected enough lifespan to transmigrate to another habitable world.

Leo was later thrown into a mysterious planet. He soon discovered that his body produced radiation, and it mutated the surrounding plants and grasses. Worrying that he might ruin the beautiful planet, he chose to live in seclusion.

Unfortunately, the local population soon discovered his existence, and a misunderstanding ensued.

Xiao Ze, who was dedicated to the people and vowed to become a generation of Ming Jun, accidentally fell on a little lady.
The little lady was born beautiful and lovable.
So Xiao Ze accepted his life and got the name of fear.

ps:
①The male protagonist has no concubine, and he is dedicated to serving the country.

- Description from novelbuddy

Monsters, both human and beast, surrounded him. He needed power to survive this new world... but he arrived as a mortal.One moment William was at work. The next, he was captured by lunatics.He had never believed in the fantastical, but he had no choice after finding himself in another world surrounded by demonic cultivators trying to extract his soul. If he couldn't find an escape, his journey would end just as abruptly as it started.William was inches from death when a benevolent cultivator saved him from that fate. Seeing his pitiful state, the cultivator decided to give him an opportunity in the form of a tool: A system to guide him on the path of cultivation.William would use it to claw his way to the peak of the cultivation 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.