Love Worth Fighting For - Chapter 8

Ye Sichen, a well-known singer with perfect appearance, is also a father of two kids. In the outside world, he is a charming star who cares about his fans and people in need. At his home, he is a lovely father and also a considerate master. A man with his fortune and statue, what bothers him so much?

Reborn in Tokyo in 1986, Tao Zhiming rose gracefully in the bubble era. Starting from Tokyo, he is the most important young man behind the bustling times.

Wealth, woman; power, fame. Tao Zhiming is like a hunter from another dimension, targeting the prey, including the people around the world who are about to boil in the information age.

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- Description from novelbuddy

An alternate realm invaded and the game descended. The entire Blue Planet was digitized.

Faced against countless waves of monsters, some people downloaded the Holy Knight module and became angels of light that helped the world reach enlightenment.

Some people downloaded the Warrior Monk module. They focused on their training and reached enlightenment overnight. With their fists and legs, they fought and made a name for themselves.

Chen Kun, who transmigrated to this world, downloaded the Boss module.

Each time he leveled up, his growth attribute improved multiple fold, and his attribute points multiplied. More importantly, all his skills were automatically unlocked as boss skills!

When the hole between the two realms opened and the gods of the alternate world came pouring in to invade this world, what awaited them was Chen Kun, who sat high up on a throne.

When the gods of the alternate world saw his terrifyingly long health bar as well as his boss skills that granted instant death and control immunity, reduced damage, true vision and many more skills, they despaired.

Chen Kun smiled and said, “So, are you the ones who will challenge my throne?”

“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.