The Achievement Junkie - Chapter 701 - Oli's Convincing Interrogation

The legendary tale of the Xyrin Empire is not about its struggles... or the tempest of another world or some cultivation myth. This is a super-serious, super-hard sci-fi novel about saving the world.Take what I’m saying seriously...Not.Okay, this is just a funny story about a deceptive human emperor, bringing his bunch of slippery alien leaders to have fun saving the world every day.Chen Jun is an unmotivated otaku who turns into the Emperor of an ancient intergalactic magic sci-fi empire. With the aura of a stay-at-home dad, he is nothing but a middle-aged man who adopts a group of lolis... and an army of freeloading aliens that came out of nowhere. Er, what?Ahem. Really though, this is a super-serious story... a super-mega-ultra-serious sci-fi story.For the Empire!

In one moment, he was walking down the street with his little sister—In the next, he had traveled to the world of One Piece, carrying a system that could extract, record, and fuse genes to cultivate powerful lifeforms.Thus began a leisurely and carefree life in the most chaotic world imaginable.When bored, he’d snatch a bit of heavenly tribute meant for the Celestial Dragons.When curious, he’d raise a few cute kittens and bunnies just for fun.When restless, he’d wander through the territories of the most fearsome powers in the New World.Life is beautiful—so why bother taking anything seriously?

Haruka, consulted by a friend who ran into a ghost at school, goes to the Movie Research Circle to see a man with mysterious powers. However, the person who meets her there is an affected young man with terrible bed hair and sleepy eyes. What does Haruka consult him about? A confinement and murder case at a women’s university, a false suicide case… The great detective who can see the spirits of the dead, Saitou Yakumo, takes these cases on in this astoundingly high-speed spiritual mystery!

“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.