Solo Cultivation in The Apocalypse - Chapter 311 Third Point

“Wu Long, the God of Pleasure, has fallen as he failed to breakthrough.”

This news have shocked all of the Seven Boundless Worlds.

Meanwhile, a sixteen-year-old disciple of a dual cultivation sect was startled awake from a coma, and after some moments of calming down and gathering his thoughts, a dangerous light flickered deep in his eyes: “Jun Shaoshan, I will climb back to the top and make you pay for everything, no one has ever been safe after offending me, Wu Long!”

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(Escape from the end of the world + cute baby + the heroine is not the Virgin + 1v1 Shuangjie)

Lin Xiajin woke up after sleeping in the women’s dormitory to find that it was still dark, and her mobile phone had no signal.

The originally lively university campus has become a paradise for zombies, and there are strange roars and screams from time to time…

Lin Xiajin, who was too late to escape, found out that she was pregnant!

Looking at my growing belly, prenatal education, nutrition, and toys are indispensable.

Others killed zombies to snatch food, Lin Xiajin killed zombies to stock up on toys and diapers! Stock up on baby supplies!

But suddenly a man appeared and wanted to be with her? ! I thought I was going to grab supplies from her!

This guy suddenly told her that this was for their son!

Lin Xiajin looked at this serious and handsome face, I regarded you as a teammate, but you regarded me as my wife? ?

- Description from novelbuddy

Stranger Danger features an epic journey through a rich world fraught with dangers and uncertainty. Ye Qing would have to face down deadly Strangers who can be anything and everything in the world—an animal, a plant, a fog, or even the demon on your shoulder—and the deadlier threat known as humanity. Will he succumb? Or will he survive and even thrive in this dangerous yet beautiful world?

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“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.