Godly Hunter - Chapter 59

The top student from the Agricultural University, Qiao Mu, was digging in the experimental field when her hoe struck through to the godforsaken Tupo Village.No money, no rice, no tall, rich, and handsome guy, the aunts and the older female cousins pecked at her every day, making her meals less than satisfying with constant bread rolls, leaving her so hungry she felt faint.Luckily, the Heavens took pity and rewarded her with a tall and handsome man, who was enthusiastic and bold. His debut move was to climb straight into bed, sparking rampant gossip in the village: that Qiao girl, the third daughter, is nothing but trouble at such a young age, shamelessly bringing some wild man into her boudoir to fool around – absolutely shameless!Muniang looked to the sky and bellowed, “Alpacas! You think I'm Hello Kitty when I don't show my claws?”Make a fortune, become rich, fight off the scum, raise a husband – life became increasingly lush.

In a world where humanity struggles to survive against rampaging beasts, Reid Fletcher, once a member of the powerful Fletcher family, has been cast out and abandoned. Born with pitifully low soul power, Reid’s future seemed doomed in a society that values strength above all else. Forced to live in the scrapyards, a forgotten wasteland where the outcasts scavenge and survive, Reid discovers a hidden potential—an ancient artifact known as the Evolution Codex. Read to find out how Reid's journey will unfold. Will he rise to the top or remain a nobody forever?

The world suddenly entered an ice age, and as the apocalypse arrived, over ninety-nine percent of humanity couldn’t withstand the extreme weather and died.

In his previous life, Ye Xingchen didn’t have much food to eat, but in order for his beloved campus belle to have something to eat, he didn’t hesitate to open the door during the apocalypse. In the end, however, all his survival resources were snatched by several strong men the campus belle brought, causing him to die tragically in the cold.

Reborn one month before the ice age, Ye Xingchen swore to make these people pay tenfold.

He awakened his spatial abilities, possessing a three-hundred-hectare dimensional space. In this life, he no longer lived just to survive but crazily stocked supplies worth billions and built an apocalypse fortress.

As the ice age arrived, while others were almost freezing to death, he was swimming in a warm pool.

While others were killing each other for a bite to eat, he was savoring an 82 Lafite, eating the finest Kobe beef, enjoying a banquet, and watching movies leisurely.

One day, when some people discovered that Ye Xingchen’s house was stocked with countless delicacies and was warm and comfortable, they went crazy and wanted to rush in.

But they soon realized that this wasn’t just a house. It was an apocalypse fortress that even nuclear weapons couldn’t break open!

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“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.