Falling in Love to Escape the Original Book Plot [BL] - Chapter 38: Song Wancheng’s Suspicions

“You died.”That was what the mysterious figure told him, but then he was given a second chance for the good deeds that he did in his previous life.“Super Prodigal System!”“Cultivate to immortality by wasting as much money as you can!”For the former number one prodigal of Earth, this was the perfect system!

After 2000 years has passed, the ruthless demon lord has just been reincarnated! But his aptitude at an academy for nurturing candidates for demon lords is, “Inept”!?

Brave, sly, kind, slippery, generous, greedy, elegant, ferocious, happy, abnormal, honest, hypocritical...In this apocalyptic world, only by winning on the Alien Star battlefield can one obtain resources to ensure the continuity of civilization.Every warrior that enters the Alien Star battlefield receives a randomly assigned keyword that belongs to them.If one's actions align with their keyword, their attributes will rapidly grow, granting abilities akin to Superman. On the contrary, if they fail to comply, they will swiftly weaken;This is a world where performance skills are paramount;Performance skills equate to sustenance, performance skills are glory, performance skills provide privileges, performance skills are life......Already concluded with thousands of orders are the works “Dream Fufiller of Ten Thousand Realms”, and “Ten Thousand Methods to Remove Players.” There is a guarantee of completion, so please feel free to dive in.

“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.