Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 122 Finally! Everything Is Set. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

A god of a different world had abruptly appeared in my classroom and semi-forcibly summoned the entire class to his world.ーーーーexcept for me, Kamiya Yato.

Pei Shiyi, who had been dead for hundreds of years, was suddenly resurrected. He was poor, homeless and was an unregistered resident. In order to settle down, Pei Shiyi took over a cat cafe.

The cat cafe was poorly managed and on the verge of closing down, there were only two to three real kittens.

Pei Shiyi fed the kittens and set a small goal for himself: for example, first, become the best cat cafe in this city. So a year later, a cat cafe called Xian Chan rose to prominence.

The Jin Hua cat that practiced Daoism for hundreds of years became a fat orange cat.

The Bi An came here and became a golden British shorthair.

The lively and active leopard cat was a real leopard.

It also came with a fluff-obsessed, non-human Director of Administration. After sniffing* the fat orange cat, the leopard cat and the ragdoll, he even began sniffing* Pei Shiyi.

The fluffy Pei Shiyi, who was a real phoenix: Do you want to die?

Director Bao: Sniffing cats is fun, sniffing you is addictive.

- Description from Novelupdates

Content Warning: R-18, Fantasy-Smut, Fetishes.Luke Hunter was once an average dairy farmer who lived in the countryside and supplied milk to a large company.After getting involved in a work-related accident, he dies a virgin and gets reincarnated into a fantasy world as the son of a very rich and powerful noble.Even though his noble family's domain is still in the countryside, this new life is nothing like the previous one.He has MoneyHe has Magic.He has a System.... And he has a big PP!Watch as Luke Hunter, the last born of the Hunter Noble Family, and only male heir to the Dukedom, begins to achieve his dream of tasting the breastmilk of women belonging to every single race in this fantasy world.The journey of Milk Harvesting is just beginning!

“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.