I Fabricated the Techniques, but my disciple really mastered them? - Chapter 700 - 370 Xuezhi Tu, Taikun Abandons a Piece_2

Pretending to be Jiang Lai’s boyfriend to meet her parents, but was given a house and a car by routine, and she wanted to do the fake show for real?

Never expected to encounter a gun battle, a close call, awakening the infinite inheritance system.

[A set of courtyard houses at the foot of the imperial city, is it inherited? 】

[LV5 pistol arc shooting, is it inherited? 】

[Bajiquan Grandmaster, do you want to inherit? 】

National martial arts and marksmanship, language and musical instruments, culinary and acting skills, high-rise buildings, island territories, everything can be inherited.

Slowly, Qin Yan discovered that he had actually traveled to a world where film, television and drama merged.

A Xiang, Carambola, Gao Wen, Andy, Shi Miao, each heroine appeared on the stage, starting a domineering life.

- Description from novelbuddy

After Mykel Alester returned from the world of his novel he destroyed, he returned to his real world with questions in his head. He thought that he would have a normal life again after he moved on even though he was an Omnipotent God in his novel world, but to his surprise, all the characters in his novel followed him to his real world.

Knowing it was possible and how his world became similar to his novel's because of them, he decided to take back his Omnipotent powers. Little did he know that it awoke the creator of his world, the being that ruled over the universe who had been observing silently. Not only that, the Gods of the mythologies and powerful characters from his novel that were his followers had turned against him and changed sides.

To his surprise, he lost the war and became powerless because he realized that he was no match for the being who created the universe.

“The Lord has given his words,” An angel said as he slowly looked down at Mykel. “By the Lord's grace, you're given a chance to repent for you who have brought chaos to Earth,” he continued and stared Mykel in the eye.

Mykel scoffed and asked with a trembling voice, “Repent? It wasn't me who brought the chaos in the first place.”

“You're welcome to stay here for eternity,” The Angel said with a smirk and kept staring Mykel in the eye. “The Lord showed you mercy, not only you, but those who don't belong to this world that the Lord created,” he continued and looked at Jeanne and the others.

“Mercy?” Mykel asked with his eyebrows raised. “Of course, I'll accept the offer,” Mykel said with a bit of a smirk on his face.

...

“He lied,” The angel said.

“We know, and the Lord knows as well,” Another angel replied. “But whatever he's going to do down there, he will face the consequences of his actions. It's not our job to judge, we only follow orders,” he continued.

...

With all the knowledge that he had and the “Game” that he created in his novel, he decided to climb up with his companions of the characters in his novel. His only purpose was one, and that was to destroy the world and prepare to challenge his creator.

(This is a sequel to my novel “Destroying My Own Movel” and I suggest you read that first)

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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.

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.