Gate of Revelation - Chapter 817

[Space + Food + Su Shuangtian] Song Baozhu had three nightmares.

The first time she wanted to marry an educated youth, she dreamed that the other party was a Zhongshan wolf.

The second time she wanted to marry a soldier, she dreamed that she was occupied by a dove in a magpie’s nest after her marriage.

The third time, she fell into the water and was rescued by Shen Xuan. As soon as she got married, she dreamed that the other party was the richest man in the future, and there was a reborn female educated youth who did everything possible to marry him!

Song Baozhu: I’m not the original match for this cannon fodder!

Identify the main space in advance, make food, make pills, take university entrance exams, buy a house and open a store!

Men will only affect the speed at which she gets rich!

Shen Xuan: ? ? ?

Demining: [Natural power, beautiful, black-hearted heroine VS Junmei Wushuang, black and innocent male lead] [1V1 Shuangjie]

- Description from novelbuddy

In a world where immortality and martial arts coexist, Qiao Mu can constantly come back to life.Each time he is killed, he resurrects at the cost of getting older, but his martial arts skills also become deeper with age.The more he dies, the older he gets, and the stronger he becomes. The more heroic his death, the stronger he becomes after resurrection.So he finds different ways to court death, always seeking out danger.The enemy is shocked to discover that just after defeating the young one, an old one has appeared, seemingly infinite in number.A legend of an invincible immortal family starts to spread.“The Qiao family is full of loyal and heroic individuals, generation after generation. They all detest evil and cherish righteousness, valuing honor over life, daring to lead the world!”“After his son died on the battlefield, the father with white hair continues to go into battle. He is worthy of admiration and respect!”“Once upon a time, the son protected me and died, so today I cannot simply watch his old father living a sad and lonely old age.”“The descendants of the Qiao family bravely entered the palace to assassinate the evil emperor, but failed and lost their lives. Is the emperor really so clueless? The mysterious thousand-year-old monster from the hidden Qiao family is about to appear!”“Has the divine immortals and buddhas returned? But why do even those divine beings call the elders of the Qiao family “ancestors”? How many ancestors does the Qiao family have, and where did they come from?”After countless deaths, Qiao Mu suddenly looked back and found himself to be an ancient ancestor of mankind, who had lived for millions of years and possessed immense power.

I can see ghosts. Even the ghosts inside games. But then…”Ah! Not there, over that way! My family heirloom is hidden there.” The ghosts in the game keep revealing hidden pieces to me.

“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.