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... o be a small town. It is no less than a npc city with a population of 400,000 people in the Kingdom of Xingyue, and the defensive npc is at level 120. Above, it is second only to the end of the twelve major cities in the sea.

"There are really few players to upgrade here." Shifeng walked out of the transfer hall and looked around. The number of players on the street was not much more than npc.

But it’s normal to think about it. After all, the Rage Shelter is a map of 40 to 65. N ...

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The Immortal Path led to Longevity and Sovereign was heading in ease. When the Longevity was no longer in ease, all living beings were just prisoners. Conspiracy, internal strife, and the invasion of the others, all of it emerged together. 

In such a world, there was such a young man. He made his way upstream, stepping on blood, defying the emperor, destroying the various kings, and slaughtering his way through the hundred clans to form an Immortal Path towards the throne of Sovereign! The Immortal Path was endless, while the Sovereign was limited. He used his blood to forge his immortal legend.

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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.

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She is the legendary queen of mercenaries whose name daunts even the big shots in society. With an ancient jade pendant in her hand, she is great at almost everything, be it seeking the truth or the art of healing.