Spectacular World - Chapter 188: A Talk

After Wang Mang died, he turned into a giant python and evolved like crazy!With the help of his family, he grew bigger and bigger! From the first few meters to tens of meters, and then to hundreds of meters!From Burmese Python to Titan Python, and then to Deep Sea Python! When Wang Mang's size reached hundreds of meters, the earth took a sudden change and the disaster came...

Wang Bin unexpectedly gained the ability to travel between the post-apocalyptic world and the real world. In the apocalypse, he organized a powerful team and continuously transported gold back to the real world.Using the gold from the apocalypse, Wang Bin built a commercial empire in the real world, eventually becoming the wealthiest person on Earth. His every word and action could influence the rise and fall of entire nations.At the same time, his development in the apocalypse was equally impressive.Through countless brutal battles, he ultimately established the largest and safest settlement in the dying apocalyptic world, making an extraordinary contribution to the survival of humanity.

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The God of perversion (Eros) is now the strongest God in the heavens. Even the king of the gods is scared, and so the gods plan and betray him for his power.

But just before he fades out of existence. His favorite concubine risks her life to save his soul and hides it in another realm.

Around the same time another person also experiences reincarnation.

However, the only compatible body is that of an old noble man with lots of problems and no Rizz.

But now the pervert God is in the scene.

He needs to get his revenge in the heavens but first he must build his strength and power the only way he knows how.

By cultivating with beautiful women....

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“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.