Family Management Game In Immortal Continent - Chapter 373 - 368: Heart of Rebellion

Mu Xuan traveled through the dangerous world of beastmasters. Fortunately, after successfully contracting beastmasters, he awakened two golden fingers one after another: blood extraction and fusion, and information panel!

So, Mu Xuan extracted his blood, designed the evolution route of the strongest beastmaster, and became the strongest beastmaster!

The world is at my feet, and the stars are not out of reach!

Ice Crystal Spirit → Ice Crystal Frost Dragon → Dyeing Embers Frost Dragon → Jie Embers Star Dragon!

Space Tanuki → Void Dragon Weasel → Leaping Sky Dragon Weasel → Heavenly God Dragon Weasel!

Heavenly Secret Illusory Butterfly…→…→…Nine Deaths Returns to the Reincarnation Butterfly!

Destroy the Demon Bear…

Holy Spirit Make…

Sun Golden Crow…

time old man…

- Description from novelbuddy

Orson, a disgraced former eSports champion, finds himself reborn on the opening day of Infinite Dimensions, a hyper-realistic virtual reality game that secretly doubles as humanity’s last line of defense against alien forces. Armed with memories of the future and a god-tier talent that grants him infinite range with every monster slain, Orson is no ordinary mage—he’s a walking artillery unit, capable of taking down bosses from miles away. Determined to rewrite his tragic past, protect those he failed, and rise to the top, Orson dives into the game with one goal: to turn his newfound powers into unstoppable strength. But as he grows stronger, enemies emerge, and the countdown to reality and the virtual world merging looms closer. Can Orson secure his place as the ultimate long-range mage and survive the deadly trials that await? In Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage, the only limit is how far he’s willing to shoot.

The whole world mutated. Mysterious resurrections happened in real life. The Tribulation descended.

“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.