Super Detective in the Fictional World - Chapter 2048 - 2048 How a Blackhearted Capitalist Is Created

The road to immortality is full of dangers and obstacles. Let's see how a young slave of a prominent clan changes his destiny and creates his own legend. Thousands of years later, the world bows to him and refers to him as the Celestial Master or Heavenly Locust Emperor.......

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Growing up in a facility that turned children into weapons, Subject 42 never knew freedom; only survival.So when a strange creepy entity offered him a second chance in another world in exchange for one mysterious task, he took it. Even if that meant living in a world that was drenched in curses, ruled by ancient gods, and shaped by powers no mortal should touch.Reborn as a Moon Elf, a being of myth and moonlight, he finally thought he could live the life he was denied.But the task he completed set something in motion. Something that he couldn't outrun.Witness, as his fate twists and turns, as Noctis moves through this strange world in search of a respite...

When Ren Sheng is being hunted, in order to not fall into the hands of his enemies he decides to jump into the crack of space and time. Unexpectedly, he crossed into the future and was forced to substitute as a bride while he was still in a coma.

When he wakes up, he actually has a husband… Ren Sheng is extremely satisfied.

Such a delicious nourishment, this is his first time seeing it! Really want to root up ah ah ah!

As a result Lord Marshal, who was sick in bed, had a “little wife” who has been touching him all day and drooling over him.

“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.