Nine Evolutions of the True Spirit - Chapter 269: Mauve Moon Minor World

At his best friend’s memorial service, Bai Yan almost burst out laughing and got beaten to death.

Along the way, Bai Yan’s fits of laughter turned into ones of anger. His joy quickly turned to sorrow as he met his punishment that night.

He curiously opened the app that he had never seen before on his phone and was suddenly pulled into a terrifying world of reincarnation…

An infinite stream of horror flowed into his mind, ominous descriptions, breakthroughs, and storylines.

The main character should not be taken lightly. Be careful if you dare!

On June 6th of the fifth year of the Great Wilderness, it was the fifth year since Yang Xu came to the ancient wilderness, he established the Daxu Kingdom in the wilderness and proclaimed himself king.

The country has one city, three towns, and nine thousand people.

Among the people are the fox clan in Qingqiu, the mermaid people in the East China Sea, and the blue bird clan.

The fox family is good at illusion, the mermaid can control the water, and the blue bird soars nine days.

Not long after the founding of the country, the Yuren found a lifeboat in the northwest waters of the Daxu Kingdom, and captured six human races, talking to themselves as American federalists.

Yang Xu:? ? ?

Come on, I have already established a country, you said that I am still on the earth and have not traveled through time?

- Description from novelbuddy

Condition 1: One yellow scarf soldier rune is satisfied

Condition 2: Kill 100 rune monsters independently

Condition 3: 5,000 times of training to kill a pig with a knife is satisfied

Condition 4: 10 Spirit Talisman Pills are satisfied

Rune unlock upgrade.

Your source runes have been promoted from ordinary quality [Yellow Turban Soldiers] to premium quality [Yellow Turban Warriors]!

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.