Swallowed Star - Chapter 1402 - Incubation Period

“They only call me mad because they're unable to comprehend me.”After recovering from trauma, Dan was just about to reconnect with the world when some cursed force yanked him into another world without warning.He became, Jules Evanava, a similarly traumatized minor character from the novel, Aftermath of Destroyed Worlds.Jules was now the heir to the strongest clan in the world, thanks to their esteemed, world-balance-altering artifact—but there were thorny strings attached.On the same day he arrived, he was thrown into a mission meant to end with his death.Yet he survived, seizing the Archangel of War’s power in a gamble with death—high risk, higher reward.Blood Manipulation, the Crimson Sigil, War Forged—a sentient sword—and Bloodlust Control were just the beginning. There was more to come. So much more.And with each new power and growth, something in him cracked. Sanity frayed, slowly but surely, as Jules danced closer to the edge of madness.Now, with enemies in his own clan and chaos rising across multiple lands—and even space—Jules must navigate a brutal world on the edge of collapse.Armed with the novel's knowledge and his growing abilities, Jules was going to survive it all—even if he had to become the very madness they struggled to understand.

The main character Lei Yu does not have the ability to practice his family’s martial arts. He gets stepped on and tossed around. Due to certain reasons, he leaves the family, coincidentally gains an ability, and makes his own path to becoming an immortal.

Han Yang never thought he would one day sell himself into a marriage with another man. He believed his life would be mundane but that man, named HeLian Qing, broke his pre-planned life. Parental debt, a child’s compensation, he had no chance whatsoever to resist, he has no ability to resist.

“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.