The Man Picked Up By the Gods (Reboot) - Chapter 317 - : The Recollections of a Certain Monster

The year 1847

On the server “Altar,” a high-class survival game was officially launched. Survival was the only logic in the human game of alliance, betrayal, and human-natured games of deceit and treachery. After the smoke of gunpowder ends, only the survivors can speak.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the amnesiac An Wujiu saw a person at his side killed. While in confusion, a floating green typeface appeared before him.

Variable Name: An Wujiu
Attributes: Male, 20 years old
Game Rounds: 5
Win Rate: 100/100
Danger Rank: SSS

No wonder they were afraid.

The first time he saw An Wujiu, Shen Ti felt curious. The kindness and fragility in those eyes were not fake, so how could he survive in the Altar? It was until he saw the man had a sudden personality change. He recklessly gambled regardless of the cost, casually estranged people, grew further excited on the verge of death, and even calculated against himself to win. Only then did Shen Ti realize that it was his own cognitive bias.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a normal person either.

- Description from Novelupdates

Shi Qing Xia is practically an angel.

Kind, sweet-hearted, and good at her studies, she was admitted to the top university in Taipei.

However, the living expenses for the metropolitan city were far greater than she had ever imagined, so she started to work as a private tutor for wealthy families to make ends meet.

On her first day of work, she met Zhao Yi Bo and Zhao Yi Xuan, a pair of neglected 16-year-old genius twins whose prosperous and wealthy parents heartlessly abandoned in Taiwan. Shi Qing Xia found them to be gentle, compassionate, friendly, clever, mysterious, pitiful and attractive.

But appearances can be very deceiving…

Because behind those sweet smiles…

Deeply twisted and cruel demons lurked, waiting to rip apart the wings of this angel, condemning her to an eternity of conflicted bittersweet suffering — a rollercoaster ride of a heart-wrenching, twisted, and tragic romance more extreme than what someone so innocent could possibly imagine.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.