The Reticent Blade - Chapter 100 - Sword and Blade

Jiang Yun died in his original world, and his spirit traveled to a cultivation world as the Holy Son of the Sacred Land of Mist. However, his new body was severely injured from being attacked by demonic cultivators and having his Sacred Bones stolen.As he was in despair, a voice from a System, known as the Villain System, sounded. Initially, he was shocked because of his experiences, which seemed like the destiny of a protagonist. However, when he discovered that his junior disciple was the true Son of Destiny and had stolen his Sacred Bones, hiding them, and was a spy for the Demonic Sect, Jiang Yun realized he was being framed. The junior disciple created false accusations against him, causing other disciples to dislike and reject him, including senior and junior disciples who shared the same master.Without hesitation, Jiang Yun decided to become the Villain. He planned for survival, gathered resources, amassed forces, and acquired subordinates. Eventually, his master decided to remove him from his position as Holy Son. He then chose to leave the Sacred Land. When he encountered an Emperor Spirit, he learned that the world was about to undergo a dramatic change in the near future. Thus, he established a Sacred Land for those who were despised and abandoned by heaven, or for those who shared his ideals.

Jiang Li accidentally transmigrated to a fantasy world along with a game called Super Godly Machine Army.

[Ruler Panel]

[Ruler: Jiang Li]

[Game: Super Godly Machine Army]

[Interface: Military Units]

[Infantry Machine Unit], [Navy Machine Unit], [Air Force Machine Unit], [Space Machine Unit], [Special Forces Machine Unit]

[Energy Points: 0]

[Soul Sparks: 0]

Soon, Jiang Li created Combat Machine Soldiers, Electric Machine Soldiers, Liquid Metal Machine Soldiers, Machine Dragon Riders, Nether Energy Machine Soldiers, Machine Engineers and many more.

This was the story of a man in a fantasy world who became invincible by creating a machine army that dominated the world.

A boy that was imprisoned for millions of years has regained a mortal body.

He became a disciple of the declining Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect where its patriarch used to be his disciple. Now he will bring this sect back to its former glory.

This is his journey to reach the apex and take revenge on those who had imprisoned him.

This is his story of meeting old friends and making new companions.

This is his path of traversing the Nine Worlds and becoming the next ruler of the Heavens.

Several milennias have passed and the golden age of experts have passed. A master whose disciples once were the most exalted Immortals among the 9 worlds have all left him. With his mortal body, mortal physique and mortal life wheel. . . he shall sweep the 9 worlds and take what is rightfully his.

“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.