Ending Maker - Chapter 139: Long Live the Sun (3)

Xi Nan had loved Cheng Yi for ten years.After graduating from college, she confessed her feelings but faced rejection.Eventually, one went abroad and the other ventured into the entertainment industry.Five years later, Xi Nan became a highly sought-after celebrity in the entertainment circle, and Cheng Yi rose to be the youngest head of the Cheng family, known as a business genius by the media.An arranged marriage contract reconnected them once again.Rumors had always spoken of Cheng Yi, the CEO of Yi Feng Group, as decisive and aloof, a unique figure with almost no romantic scandals, yet he attracted countless admirers.However, the latest news drove all the high-society ladies in Jing City mad.Reports claimed that Cheng Yi was secretly married and had even commissioned a famous international jewelry designer for a priceless engagement ring.One day, as Xi Nan was watching television at home, Cheng Yi called her, asking her to retrieve a document from his study.Finding the document on the desk was easy for Xi Nan.But at the same moment, she discovered Cheng Yi’s secret—a small black box inside a cabinet.It contained a diamond ring, easily seven to eight carats, fittingly described as a 'pigeon's egg'.Xi Nan tried the ring on, and it fit perfectly.In that instant, something deep within seemed to blossom, her eyes swirling with a layer of subtle surprise and bewilderment.

“She was a demon to begin with, how could she possibly be corrupted by encountering me, a human? Critics always talk about ludicrous things.”In 1798, during an interview with the press, Cardinal Bishop Lanci was asked about his past with the exiled last princess of the Demon Race, as well as recent signs of the resurrection of the demons. He stated:“I have made too many efforts to defend world peace, I am quite sure, there is absolutely no possibility for the Demon Race to revive under her leadership.”......In the winter of 1802, the revival of the Demon Race succeeded.[Based on the above information, please indicate who is the main culprit leading to the revival of the Demon Race, and explain why it is Lanci. (10 points)]—— excerpt from “Classic Examination Questions in Empire History.”

In The Kingdom of Elves, the War of Gods 1000 years ago caused the fall of the World Tree. In a world where true gods rule, the fall of the elven civilization came soon after.

A 1000 years has passed, the new World Tree is now reborn.

Eve Euktrahill, the Mother of Nature, the Goddess of Life, the Great Ruler of Elves. Armed with the ability to connect to the Internet on the blue planet, She(祂, a pronoun used for god) now must rely on players from the blue planet to help her goal of reviving the past glory of the elves and the World Tree.

“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.