Reborn 92's Business Tycoon - Chapter 19 - : Spending money

【Matrix Survival Game】

All players have the same initial resources.

Each person can explore ten rooms per day, and there may be dangers and supplies in the rooms.

Do your best to survive.

…

After reading all the introductions, Li Zheng heard a voice in his ear: The daily treasure chest is being drawn, and the quality is random…

Congratulations, you have drawn a silver treasure chest and obtained a silver-quality blueprint “Normal Edition Detector”, along with several supplies.

Congratulations, you have drawn a bronze treasure chest and obtained a bronze-quality blueprint “Air Purifier”, with some supplies.

Congratulations, you have drawn the white treasure chest and obtained the platinum quality blueprint “Ion Cutting Blade”, “Intermediate Gene Culture Solution Recipe”, “TJP Type Shield Blueprint”, and a lot of materials.

…

Congratulations, you have drawn the super god-level treasure chest, and the reward……

Li Zheng looked at the brilliant treasure chest in front of him and rubbed his hands together excitedly.

- Description from novelbuddy

“Junior Brother Qin, do you want a wife or not?” A well-meaning senior martial brother of Qin Changqing's brought a wife to him, and Qin Changqing had no reason to refuse.

Qin Changqing unexpectedly arrived in this world, diligently cultivated for thirty years, yet still remained useless. Well, he decided to give up his cultivation, get married, and have children. That would be great!

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In the last life, Lin Yu Tong chose to fly with Shen Jun for his own happiness, whereby he ended up creating an irreparable regret for a lifetime. However, such a contribution has not been able to exchange the happiness of a lifetime. Shen was derailed and Lin Yu Tong had an accident.

“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.