I Died 2,000 Years Ago: The Underworld Fears Me - Chapter 72 - 69: The Alchemist’s Wrath

[ Warning: Mature content R-18 ]

A middle class boy died a pathetic death after witnessing his best friend making out with the girl he liked. However what he thought was the end, was actually a begining of exciting life.

"Huh? Did I reincarnated?"

[ Ding. Lust system initiated.]

This world has magic and beauties that none in his previous life can compare.

Join Exciting journey of Our MC. How he will get both strength and most gorgeous beauties.

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[ What to expect? ]

1. This is my first time writing a novel, so don't get your hopes high. If you have some patience, you can read it and enjoy. if not then this is not for you.

2. From the title of the novel you already would have guessed that it will have many sexual adventures. So enjoy them.....

3. However don't expect MC to have sexual relations with every woman he meets. I'll be focusing on the story, and would 'Try' not to blindly throw sex scenes left and right.

If you enjoy the story then don't forget to
vote GOLDEN TICKETS, POWER STONES.

Discord: Blizzard54k#5923

Happy reading~

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The Old Continent sank in a cataclysm, and humanity struggles to survive on the ocean aboard “Drifting Ships,” searching for resources in the Endless Ocean and on scattered islands.But Shi Ming, who transmigrated here, thrives on this azure planet like a fish in water, relying on his “Eye of Intelligence”.[Three hundred nautical miles ahead, there is a resource-rich island where Sea Rice that can increase strength grows.][Pirate Ship No. 107 holds a treasure map to the Land of the Vortex. This is a big surprise!][Don't underestimate this inconspicuous sea fish; it can help you awaken the C-rank ability “Water Breathing”!]

A replica of Marquis Kieran Vale, the son of the Marchioness of Vale, who she deemed a failure. That was all she was. No, she was now referred to as “he.” At least until she met Claude Del Ihar.

“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.