Adopted Soldier - Chapter 68

In the distant future on Earth, there was a girl with God-like powers. That girl is the last survivor of the former human race that flourished in ancient times.

The Ancients.

And on that very same Earth, a new breed of humans with the ability to wield Magic emerged.

That girl began to observe the new human race silently.

Sometimes called a God, other times called Satan, that girl continued to observe the new human race.

This is the story of the happenings between the lonely girl and the hardworking new human race.

Xu Zimei found himself reborn, carrying with him all the heaven-shaking cultivation and memories from his previous life.But something was off about the script. Isn’t reincarnation always the protagonist’s theme? However, I was cast as the villain!This is the story of a villain's step-by-step journey to becoming the Demon King.——————————In an era of great strife, where mystical arts resonated!An elder of the True Martial Holy Sect sat at the Willow Bank River Fishing Platform when suddenly he heard the dragon’s roar. Three thousand carps knocked at the gate of life, transforming into the Measureless Golden Dragon, soaring through the firmament, graceful as a startling swan!There were strongmen who measured the heavens and earth with their strides, monks who sat in meditation in temples for three thousand years, achieving sudden enlightenment—auspicious clouds descended, and all laws of magic cheered in chorus.Blood moons darkened the night, rainbows cut through the daylight.There was a swordsman with a wooden sword on his back who, with a turn and a raise of his hand, shattered thousands of miles of rivers and mountains.In the south of the city, a ragged beggar with a broken willow twig dared to assault the Holy Court of a sect that boasted three emperors.

“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.