I Have Medicine - Chapter 19

Transmigration is the total rage of novels nowadays, and if the main character isn’t careful, they get swept up into the bandwagon, so this is a story from another continent. Magic? —— of course the main character won’t know how to use it, but what about knowing how to use electricity? Dou Qi? —— the main character still doesn’t know, but is inner power more strong? Beautiful women? —— of course the main character has them, or else there wouldn’t be anything worth reading in this novel. How many? —— that question’s quite good, if I told you everything, what would you read for? An honest warning to the female readers and your tastes, it is a harem novel, don’t read it if you’re not interested. A stern warning to male readers and your tastes, um, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

- Description from Novelupdates

The thirty-two-year-old business tycoon, Lu Yinchu, married a woman ten years his junior. The woman was nondescript and ...

In his old world, Elric had nothing—no powerful family, no elite degree, just relentless hard work and a passion for healing. Dismissed as a third-rate doctor, he shocked the nation by saving a congressman’s life and becoming an overnight celebrity. But just when his career was rising, tragedy struck.Now, Elric opens his eyes in a world unlike any he’s ever known—a land of swords, sorcery, and strange beliefs. Reborn in the countryside of a magical kingdom, where even a common cold is blamed on spirits, he’s the only one who understands how the human body truly works.With no palace, no power, and no one to trust, Elric sets up a humble clinic in a rural village. Armed with science and sarcasm, he treats the sick, challenges ancient traditions, and slowly earns the awe and fear of a world ruled by magic.Mocked as a fraud. Hunted by rival healers. Feared by nobles and mages alike.But this world is about to learn—Even a third-rate doctor can change history.

“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.