Empire of the Ring - Chapter 242 - Dream of Arirang Farm (3)

Monster Fusion: Rise of the Vice Sect LeaderRay Darkheart was cursed forever unable to cultivate, even after reincarnation. No technique, no bloodline, no divine intervention could change his fate. His body rejected all forms of cultivation, leaving him powerless in a world where strength ruled.But fate was not so absolute.One day, he awakened the Monster Fusion System a power unlike any other. By fusing two monsters of the same rank, he could create something far stronger, evolving them beyond their natural limits. Each fusion carried forward enhanced traits, bloodlines, and abilities, forming creatures that defied logic itself.Yet power came at a price.To advance, to unlock the system’s hidden functions, he needed spiritual stones countless, unending spiritual stones. Every ability, every upgrade, every path forward demanded a fortune. Alchemy, formations, talismans, swordsmanship nothing was beyond his reach, as long as he could afford it.Thus, Ray chose the only path left to him.If the world would not grant him strength, he would take it for himself. As the Vice Sect Leader, he would amass wealth, plunder resources, and rob cultivators blind not for greed, but for survival.A powerless man? No.A schemer, a thief, a legend in the making Ray Darkheart would rise.[sect building] [business empire] [disciple cultivation] [comedy] [alchemist] [formation master] [sword dao] [system] [monster fusion] [resource management] [plundering] [strategic growth] [power progression] [cultivation world]

Life can be very unfair most of the time, and Christopher is someone who knows this very well.Being an orphan, his chances of achieving great things in life were close to nil. But things change when he meets his lover. However, a series of events lead to his death.But that isn't the end. He wakes up in the body of someone just like him in another world, and with a system, one with an incredible ability.With his newfound cheat, he completely sweeps his way through the world and beyond.Angels? Demons? Dragons? Gods? Their titles don't matter, because in the end they will only have two options. Submit or die.

As if becoming the [Final Antagonist] of a novel wasn't enough, Ivan had unfortunately or not also the memories of 6 other Antagonists of the six other Novels he had read.What happens when the mind, strength, goals, and pride of 7 Antagonists merge?It didn't matter to Ivan.All he wants now was to protect his Faith and for that he'd continue in then same path as he took in the novel with the difference than he wouldn't let the Protagonists kill him.For that first he must join the Exorcist Academy!The problem?He was possessed!

“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.