Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 287 - Number Plate

Ah, so this is how death is? With the destruction of that nuclear project, we can now prevent a war from happening. I did it... I did it! It is now in your hands, guys. I will meet God in heaven and pray for the success of you all.

What does heaven look like? I will live my afterlife there and brag about how I help managed to make the world a better place.

When I am reborn, I want to see a festival where everyone will smile with no despair.

"Carry my commandment; bring peace upon this world and bring down the judgment hammer to those who wish of the world's destruction. Now live! Live to fulfill this duty and I shall grant you eternal happiness"

"Gather all babies over the kingdoms and execute them all!!!" The King can’t simply lose his authority due to a royal divine prophecy, foretelling the birth of the child that will cause destruction of his kingdom.

The Elduke mistress gave birth to her firstborn child, a son whom she had to say goodbye to. She washed her son away in the river, hoping that someday , someone will raise him well and he can bring a holocaust upon this Kingdom.

One day a young girl found a floating basket with a baby inside, her pure heart telling her to take the baby.

"Don't cry, you will be save, I'm here.. I won't let anything bad happen to you.."

She devote herself to take care of the baby, she can't let anything bad befell him.

"Mom, I will save this kid... please watch me from heaven, mom"

Once again, Ye Zhen Zhen had lost her memories. When she opened her eyes once more, arranged in front of her were——

1. A Maternal Grandfather, the Murdered Victim

2. A Large Inheritance

3. A Deeply in Love Fiancé

4. An Overbearing Maternal Uncle and his Wife

5. A Docile Servant

6. The Aloof, Cold, Abstinent Doctor in Charge of the Case

7. A Seemingly Difficult Police Officer

Reincarnated as a detective, Ye Zhen Zhen stared dubiously at them all. Who was the murderer? Was it her? It…?

Only one was the real murderer, but there was far more than just one culprit.

- Description from Novelupdates

An anime otaku who has traveled to the world of full-time hunters, in order to live well, he can only keep getting stronger all the time, burying the strong one after another. Your withered life will be continued by me.

- 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.