Ancient Fiend Dragon Emperor - Chapter 297 - 296: The Death of Su Yunming

Struggling until thirty-eight years old and still can't afford a house, you have to pay a dowry of 300,000 to get married, living frugally for most of your life, your liver is shattered from overworking, but where's the money? Who really took all the money?

Jiang Qin, who is full of grievances, was reborn at the age of eighteen. The only thought in his mind when he opened his eyes was to start a business and make money.

The first step, to take back the love letters he had sent out, flip it over, and write three lines in the stunned eyes of the school beauty:

You must never work for others, better to latch onto a wealthy woman if you can.

You can make more money if you lose it, but if you lose your conscience, you can make even more!

As a corporate slave, never be a servant!

As for love? Even dogs don't talk about that stuff!

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With A Tale of Blades & Blood, the world of Avalion takes shape in the form of an all too familiar world. Filled with morals either clear or grey, war is inevitable while peace never lasts. Fifteen centuries of watchful peace and subtle tension have finally boiled, and the conflict rises once more, now filled with more bloodshed than ever before.Beyond the mountains of the Nortenhein, the Weslands arm themselves to take back their lands and bring forth to the south and the east A Bloody Winter. To the east, over hills and through forests of old and past the waters of the Red River, The East Plains stand tall with the Spire as its center, ready to fulfill their Dream of Vengeance. Deep in the south where the cities stand and to the west where the walls never crumble, steel meets steel as brother fights brother in A Dance of Fire and Swords.Witness the adventures of Orevian Ballister, Norien Ravenhan, Forien Strix, and Loran Aelond as they face battles of wits, blades, honor, glory, and tragedy in a story that shall never be forgotten:A Tale of Blades & Blood.

“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.