Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest - Chapter 376: An Alliance Against Oppression

What is a Protagonist?

After transmigrating, the wind will blow and the water will rise! After rebirth, begin the slaughter in all four directions!

Bring a system to win at life!  Carry a dimension to soar above the masses!

Enter a red packet group and walk to the peak!

… …

How could a life without a cheat be called a Protagonist?

However——

Behind every successful Protagonist lies innumerable cannon fodder, they are unresigned to be the Protagonist’s stepping stone, they want to be the main characters of their own lives, it doesn’t have to be dazzling but it must be a unique and unmatched life.

Wen Qing’s job is to complete the wishes of these cannon fodder, settle their obsessions, and allow them to successfully reincarnate.  Regarding the reward for completing the missions ——she can snatch the Protagonist’s golden finger.

- Description from Novelupdates

Shao Di Yu, an orphan, is adopted as a result of of a murder case involving the deaths of his entire family. Because of some painful experiences, he refuses to speak. However, he has sharp insight; moreover, he becomes under the care of a pair of twin brothers in the police force, who also have a child currently in university. Yu Yin possesses yin-yang eyes, which allow him to see things ordinary people cannot. The two brothers happen to complement each other, and together they investigate various inconceivable incidents.

The devil would love you only in his own way: “Remember, don’t look at me, don’t hold me, and don’t kiss me! Turn your face away, as long as you lie down obediently and quietly! ” Just lie down obediently? What did he take her for? An inflatable wife?

“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.