Beginning with the Ubume Bird - Chapter 25 - : The Feast

The new book “Rebirth in the Tokyo Bubble Era” has been uploaded and is collected by Urban Business Literature.

Gu Song, a graduate of Yan University, was reborn back to his sophomore year in 2001.

A new life script, derailed by a book that popped into my head.

From then on, the liberal arts masters need to study the black technology of science and engineering with heart.

From then on, bargain hunting for Internet giants and building a business empire are only basic conditions.

The countdown is beating, money is in competition, technology is in competition, and control is in competition!

In this life, fate must be in your own hands!

Fan group 337202561

- Description from novelbuddy

One day, unfortunate news flew all the way to the Mage’s City. The mage, Solar Xing Ayra’s, entire family had been killed in an accident. Thus, he must now become the next Lord of the Solar family. The childhood home he returned to felt unfamiliar and strange. He barely managed to conduct a funeral with advisors that regarded him with suspicion. After fainting from various stressors, he woke up and… “Hello, Master. Nice to meet you!” ^o^ From now on, I’ll be the cute GM spirit fulfilling Master’s dreams: ‘Adventuring the world!’, ‘Fun estate management!’ I’m so happy to be with Master from now on, yay! “Enter a name ______” … What is this pebble-like spirit that calls me ‘Master’? No matter how you look at it–these level-up quests and these system windows…they were similar to a game’s user interface from his previous life. What is this… thing that seems more suited to modern civilization? Reminiscing on the games he had longed to play, Ayra worked hard on the quests. And, slowly, he also began exploring the territory. However, the territory… [D-234 days until the fall of the Solar estate.] “There are 234 days left till ruin…?” Alright, let’s start with the coronation ceremony. Things will work out somehow.

“Some connections are written long before two hearts ever meet.”Arjun never believed in fate, just another lost soul buried in the noise of textbooks and deadlines.Ayesha was a quiet storm, hiding a fragile heart behind glowing smiles and disappearing messages.They were just two strangers, separated by borders, bound by pixels on a screen.But what starts as casual texts in the dead of night slowly turns into something neither of them can explain.A bond stitched through unseen heartbeats.A love whispered through endless silences.But every heartbeat carries secrets... and some secrets are too heavy to cross the distance.When time begins slipping through Ayesha's fingers, Arjun finds himself caught between holding on or letting go.Will their hearts find each other in the silence or will destiny write their last message before they ever meet?

“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.