Pursuing Immortality - Chapter 322

Luo Qing Chen is a wandering spirit that died thirty thousand years ago, roaming the Chaos Space

In order to not turn into dust, she is bound by an ice cold system to travel through time and space to complete missions.

Girls that pretend to be weak?  Slap them without explaining.

A silly cannon fodder?  Helping them amass treasures.

Meeting a real male god?  All of them will pamper.

System: Dear masters, what do I do if my host even dares bully the heavens?  Waiting for an answer, it’s urgent!

A certain male god: Change systems.

System: ヽ〔?Д?〕丿

- Description from Novelupdates

Dying and then meeting a giant God in the image of an Impostor from Among us in the afterlife was certainly something I didn't expect would happen.Getting reincarnated by it, was something I expected even less.And awakening in a world where heroes and villains run rampant, was certainly the cherry on top on this whole matter.But well, nothing I can do about it.

“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.

“Let’s get a divorce,” Chen Jinyao said.

She knew that she was only a supporting character in this novel world. The male lead only married her as a business relationship and, sooner or later, the female lead of the story would eventually show up.

If Chen Jinyao was indecisive about leaving, only heartbreak would follow.

Something pulled her thin white wrist, and next thing she knew, she was pushed down and pressed against a pillow. Yan Cheng’s peach blossom eyes bored into her in discontent as he declared, “Only in your dreams!”

After spending a colorful night, she was too tired to lift a finger.

When she fell asleep in Yan Cheng’s arms, she had a dream.

In her dream, she had turned 80 years old.

But can someone tell her why she still hadn’t left the marriage at that age?