Douluo Dalu: The Legend of Heavenly Ruler - Chapter 419: Forging Divine Tools (Final)

This story tells the life of two people, a noble only in name and an older wife from the army, married through a tentative agreement. In the bone-chilling cold, they spend their time hunting, gutting, and cooking by the fireplace. Their daily life passes peacefully. This is the warm love story recounting their daily lives.

In the post-apocalyptic era, amidst the wasteland and chaos, the great path reaches the heavens.Mad Outer Gods, uncontrollable cursed cultivation methods, extraordinary martial artists facing ominous old age... Above the starry sky, deities circle, and below, ghosts roam at night!In this doomsday scenario, Xu Shu carries the “Primordial Scroll” and transmigrates. Through a simulation game, he achieves one exclusive accomplishment after another, seeking a sliver of hope for survival.The ten-day apocalypse, the Dragon King returns, resurrects his lover, and saves the world;With a passionate and generous heart, he fights and conquers while carrying the burden of a grieving father whose child was stillborn...As more and more accomplishments are achieved, he gradually lets himself go within the simulation game.Until...A true disciple of the Female Void Palace is pregnant overnight, announcing an emergency lockdown;The long-extinct master of the White Jade Capital rises from the grave, destroys enemies with a wave and proves his Dao as a Great Emperor;A shepherd boy arrives at the gates of the Holy Temple, claiming to be Ye Su;Moreover, a young man riding a cow attains enlightenment, leaving Hangu Pass and preaching with a scroll:- The human race must strengthen itself. You may admire me, but there's no need to worship me;- Together, we punish those who claim to be gods!...Dreams reflect reality, and more and more people begin to spread his name and words across the land. Only then does Xu Shu realize that the life he simulated has far-reaching effects, like a butterfly flapping its wings!And those rampant Outer Gods finally recall the fear that once dominated them...He dies thousands of times on the path to ascension, and another night passes in the Primordial Scroll.Suddenly looking back, he has shattered both heaven and earth.“I, Xu Shu, am a crude person. My apologies, fairy!”---

He was the youngest guru of martial arts as well as the perfect Mr. McDreamy of the most girls. He had mysterious absolute touch, clear-sighted observation ability and various outstanding talents.

“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.