Weapon seller in the world of magic - Chapter 12: Bargain

He had always wished to live a new, ordinary life. That was his one and only wish.

But the world did not allow him to.

‘I wanted to live ordinarily, but you’re the ones who provoked me first!’

Who was the one who provoked the sleeping lion first?

It’s now time to witness the great Demon Master’s reproval of the modern times!

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

In a world where life energy fuels martial prowess, Shen Yifan, with a mere mortal lifespan of a hundred years, finds solace in slaying demons to extend his own vitality. Amidst the chaos of a realm teeming with malevolence, he brandishes his blade, striking terror into the hearts of creatures who have roamed the earth for centuries! Yet, amidst his valiant exploits, Shen Yifan sometimes ponders, why does his lifespan seem to dwindle faster with each use of his powers? Sheathing his sword, he gazes skyward, hearing tales of the divine palace in the heavens, where immortal beings dwell, having weathered endless eons. Embarking on a celestial journey, he seeks to beseech the gods for a loan of a million years, to pave his path towards eternal life.

30-year-old Jo Minjoon has always wanted to become a chef. He started his culinary career late in life, however, and is currently chopping onions at a restaurant. Regretting his life choices, he wishes he could go back to change it all and falls asleep. Meanwhile, someone out there is willing to give him another chance and send him back in time. How will he use the new powers he obtained from this mysterious being?

“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.