The Schoolgirl Secret Agent - Chapter 2711

A madman's journey up the towers.These are the ironclad rules of the Three Towers Game in the eyes of others:1: Do not create killings in the Tower of Desire. The Tower of Desire is a tower full of love; please climb it with love.2: Killing is the only pass for the Slaughter Tower. All creatures in the Slaughter Tower are enemies of humanity; do not try to communicate with the monsters.3: Stay away from the Deceit Tower, and happiness will be abundant.These are the ironclad rules of the Three Towers Game in the eyes of Wen Xishu:1: The Tower of Desire is full of sheep that won't kill.2: The monsters in the Slaughter Tower are powerful and reliable, truly a camp of righteous fathers.3: I absolutely love the Deceit Tower.

Arthur, an avid gamer, accepts his friend’s dare to beat an infamous eroge game that no one has ever completed. The problem? The game is designed to trap players in endless smut scenes, with every decision leading to the same outcome: more smut scenes, world destruction and game over. After countless failed attempts and growing frustration, Arthur takes to the game’s community forum, venting his anger at the developers. To his shock, he receives a cryptic response from the developer challenging him to find a different ending. Moments later, Arthur is pulled into the game itself, awakening in the body of an unremarkable extra. Arthur finds himself embodying the very lifestyle he once despised—fooling around at every turn and getting swept up in the woman’s seductive temptations. Can Arthur resist the game’s temptations, uncover hidden paths, and finally break free? Or will he become yet another player lost to its endless scenes? or he will do both? Follow Arthur’s journey for a fresh story filled with humor, plot twists, and concepts you won’t find elsewhere.

“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.

At the end of the road, in the throes of despair and impending death, Le Yu shouted defiantly:“If you have the guts, then kill me.”The enemy sneered and said:“I've never heard such a strange request.”Le Yu died.Then Le Yu came back to life, living in the enemy's body.This is a story where being killed means possessing the killer.“Why are the ones who kill me always some enigmatic, cunning figures with complicated backstories and numerous impending quests?Why aren't there some honest, wealthy, lady-charmer winners in life coming to kill me!?”