King of Assassins - Chapter 181 - 170 Biochemical Battle Armor

Come and check out my new story, A game or a new reality, follow the story of a young poor man who was able to conquer a world similar to Tensura and makes it a new reality or a gate to another world???...pictures don't belong to me, if the story is like any other it was not intended. Tensura!!!!

When Ye Mo suddenly woke up, he realized that everything around him seemed to have changed: He has been transmigrated into the modern Earth where spiritual energy is scarce. His pretty master from his former world was nowhere to be seen. Most importantly, he found himself in the body of a young man who has been abandoned by his clan for an embarrassing reason…

Young and skilled warrior Jincheon finds himself at the heart of chaos when his hometown is suddenly attacked. Amid brutal and deadly battles, he faces an impossible choice – life or death.Surrounded by the flashing, glowing swords of his bodyguards and the shadows of the attackers, Jincheon desperately searches for an escape, only to realize that in this world, there are no easy answers. As he tries to flee through the kitchen of a small, strange, and unusually dark inn, he discovers an even greater danger: the exit is hidden, and the only way out is through a dirty, old drain.But his path is not so simple. Along the way, he encounters a mysterious man whose intentions remain unclear, but who seems to know exactly how to help Jincheon. With time running out and death looming ever closer, Jincheon must decide whether to trust this stranger or face even greater dangers alone.How far is he willing to go to survive? And who will turn out to be an ally, and who an enemy, when every step is a battle between life and death?

“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.