Heaven Extinction Martial Emperor - Chapter 39

“Nine Heavens cast down the Undying Tree, from the tomb the Immortal's bones were fetched;Taoist Venerable tut-tutted as they drank blood plasma, Old Buddha relished in the chew of meat;Beasts and livestock rang the Dharma Drum, city foxes and hole-dwelling rats boiled in the pot;In the Immortality Wine, the resentful spirits were fishy, at the Killing Banquet, the Dao Fruit was bitter!”In this world where Daoist Skill manifested, countless Sect Cultivators, Side Door Magicians, princes and scholars, officials of high rank and nobles all coveted immortality!Owl God Tomb, stealing heavenly secrets, Pearl Gathering Skill, Holy Infant Pill, bone effigies, Yin God Shrine, human-transformed monsters, Undying Elixir, Red Line Poison, Blood Immortal insects, Mermaid Meat, gold-threaded robes, Five Poisons Primordial Spirit, Seven Star Life Extension...They killed and harmed life only to steal the “Killing Dao Fruit” borne upon that Undying Tree!Until... a sly “Fishing Man” came to this world.Wang Yuan, born with the Small Book of Life and Death, had but a simple and unadorned dream:Amid bustling strings and smoky vistas, on a night bathed in moonlight, in peace and quiet did I lean on the rail, savoring the wind, toasting to the stars.With his “Bride in bridal clothes,” watching the sunrise at Taishan in the morning, admiring Qionghua in Luoyang at noon, and drinking under the aurora by the North Sea in the evening.“But you all smell so incredibly fragrant!No more, none shall escape, for today I shall crowdfund Cultivating Immortality! Please... my treasure, turn around!”The blood-red veil of the Bride abruptly fluttered to the ground.

He never performed well in either middle nor high school, and even after becoming an adult, he never worked. Be it morning, noon or night, he only played an online game. For him, being the world’s number one rank, playing that online game, was his very reason for living.

One day, his account was hacked and his character deleted. Restoration was impossible. Nothing that could be done. The number 1 rank that he literally spent his life to attain and to defend was now lost. Filled with despair, he turned to suicide.

When he opened his eyes again, there was the online game. No, the world itself looked similar to the game. He had been reborn as the extra character of the premium avatar he created in the past, but left untouched.

The former world’s top, was reborn in a world that looked like that online game. That was the beginning of his extraordinary legend.

A knight, a cat, a dark elf, and so on. Together with several unique companions, his training to regain his “world’s first rank” now begins.

Have you ever wished you exactly knew how to accomplish your dreams? Not feeling the slightest doubt anymore? Being aware at any time how every choice, action and decision of yours affects your future?

“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.