Reign of the Hunters - Chapter 358 Cooperation?

“I have to squander; otherwise, won’t it be a waste of my parent’s talent at earning money?” Hong Dali answers a reporter’s question matter-of-factly.

Just after the interview ends, Hong Dali opens the Great Prodigal System’s interface and looks at the various good stuff displayed in it. Stroking his chin, he mumbles to himself, “I just need to squander 200 billion yuan more to exchange for the blueprint of the core technology, Engine Destruction, found in the strongest humanoid mecha weapon, Neo Granzon. Looks like I’ll have to work harder!”

“I want to splurge! I want to squander!”

When proposing, Gu Ningxi praised Tao Xinhe for her “perserverence and responsibility”, and on his wedding day, he vowed in public to “be one and only pair for life”.

Tao Xinhe believed it, believed it deeply, and devoted herself to being a good, virtuous wife for her faced blind husband.

Knowing that Gu Ningxi sees everyone as a tile face, she does not change her clothes or incense, and finally let him rest assured to embrace her;

She accompanies Gu Ningxi to the banquet and party, and mentions the names and origins of the guests, so that he can get rid of his arrogant name;

She accompanied Gu Ningxi while he misses his mother, endured the cold face of her grandmother, and dealt with the entanglement of her uncle and aunt, so that he would have no worries.

Yet nothing compared to that— Gu Ningxi could see Mo Qiqi’s face. In his eyes, only Mo Qiqi was vivid and pleasant, and the faces of the others were blurred.
He focused his eyes on Mo Qiqi, coaxed her softly, and allowed her to touch him. For this reason, he deceived and neglected his wife, and he couldn’t recognize Tao Xinhe who had changed her clothes.

Tao Xinhe’s heart died, determined to go, she left a letter of divorce. Her father and younger brother treated her like a jewel, she regained her spirits, and when she heard the news of her ex-husband taking Mo Qiqi into the mansion, she only smiled.

- Description from Novelupdates

Summoning ceremonies can freely call forth even “those which lurk in the depths beyond the gods”. One boy has top-level abilities even among the cutting-edge summoners who can use those ceremonies. He is Alice (with) Rabbit aka Shiroyama Kyousuke. But this strongest boy summoner has a single fatal weakness. Certain “cursed words” spoken by girls: “Help me.”

When Kyousuke hears those words from Meinokawa Higan, a girl brought to the verge of death, he throws himself into a city where three great summoner forces clash!

“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.