Cyberpunk Patriarch - Chapter 63 - 62: Let Me Choose For You! Crazy?

Even in the Interstellar universe, a shut-in is a shut-in. Wu Zimo, a bachelor tech nerd, said that there was no pressure. As long as there was a network and a computer, nothing would be a problem!

As for the male god, this type of mythical creature should be sitting on a pedestal with a noble and cool expression, accepting the worship of believers day and night.

A certain shut-in: So, Marshal, we should have been running about on the road of bachelorhood all this time. Would you say that’s correct?

Marshal: ……ah! Ah!

Beware of mines: Sentinel/ guide, two orientations, protagonist shou, mutual pampering, 1v1

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Hacker God Mo is the Number 1 Hacker from 21st Century. Reborn in interstellar, he became an ancient man from thousands of years ago. His ambition is to shine the name of GOD Mo in interstellar era.

As for his Male God. He is a famous Marshal who sits in the top platform of Gods. A noble and cold person.

To protect his little chrysanthemum. Wu ZiMo decided to pretend to be a ordinary person. Let’s see how long can Wu ZiMo can protect his chrysanthemum… I mean his identity as a ordinary person.

- Description from Novelupdates

Reincarnated as the eldest son of Ming Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang, the biological father of Emperor Jianwen, and the elder brother of Ming Chengzu Zhu Di.

See how Yiwen Prince Zhu Biao, who was fleeting like a meteor in history, survived the turbulent Hongwu years and built a new Ming Dynasty!

(No system, no plug-ins, no IQ crushing, no cross-age technology tree)

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.