Using entries to cultivate immortality in chaotic times - Chapter 709 - 241: Statue, Upgrading!_4

Su Nan accidentally came into contact with a game called “Demon World” and obtained a unique talent.

Just as he thought he would showcase his skills in the game, he discovered various signs indicating that the game he played was not simple.

Rampaging players, immortal demons, possessed monsters...

All sorts of incredible things happened one after another, and the real world gradually became bizarre.

Sensing the danger around him, Su Nan decisively chose to secretly develop himself.

When the game merged with reality, he looked back and realized that he had long become the biggest demon in the eyes of the players.

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The Saint: “Bro Yi, Can you make me your servant?

Yi Feng: “What? A Saint like you wants to become my servant. Do you have any shame?

The Saint: “My sister is very beautiful”

Yi Feng (His eyes is glowing): Little Saint, you can follow me from now. All right, remember to tell your sister to come!

The King: “Yi Feng! Your bastard, what are you doing?

Yi Feng: My bad! My bad! My king, I just want to stroll in this harem a little bit. Who knows those girls have been following me like that?

- Description from Novelupdates

A top-secret experimental explosion transports Xiao Ming to a parallel world resembling ancient times.In this hostile land, he is the most unfavored prince, given the most barren fiefdom.Fortunately, however, a mysterious item from the experiment—the Technology Crystal—comes with him, granting him the ability to upgrade a technology tree.Thus, he begins a leisurely life in his fief, farming and developing industry.In the face of his unfriendly brothers and sisters, he has always followed the motto- friends come and get wine, jackals come and get shotguns.

“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.