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... el Apple phone handed to her and glanced at Fu Tingzhou before accepting it. Was he bringing her here to buy a phone?

She hurriedly said, "There’s no need to buy something so good."

"You’re my personal assistant. Don’t embarrass me with a cheap, shabby phone that can barely handle two calls without freezing. That would delay my work," he retorted.

Fu Tingzhou paid for the phone, then took her to get a SIM card replacement.

They needed to queue up for the SIM card ...

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Residing within the dense forest in Nore are the beautiful elves of Elune Forest. After the young elves began to be hunted by the humans to become slaves, the Queen of Elune decided that young elves could not leave the forest until after their adult ceremony at fifty years old. When Hai’an’s ceremony finally arrived, he was excited to be able to finally travel away from his home and see everything the world had to offer. However, he got more than he bargained for.

What was supposed to be a simple ceremony turned into Hai’an transmigating to the body of… a plant?!

Stuck as a small sapling called Shaking Grass, Hai’an was bought and given as a birthday gift to a retired Starfleet Marshal named Auguste.

After retiring due to political conflict, Auguste spends his time trying to find more of his missing race, the ancient dragons. Unexpectedly receiving Hai’an, Auguste believes him to be nothing more than a rare, exotic plant. To his surprise, he finds that this little plant is intelligent and learns more and more every day.

How will this stoic, unfeeling dragon fall in love with the little transmigrated elf who lost his body?

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“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.

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There was no light in the night, save for the sound of war drums and war cries.

The young man listened carefully, it was the sound of his heartbeat and the flow of his blood.

What lay hidden in the darkness ahead? Is it man, god or……a monster?

There was no such thing as the best road, because the journey beneath one’s feet is limitless!