Realm of Monsters - Chapter 565: The Shadow of Stryg

The Reticent Blade is, first and foremost, a wuxia novel, meaning that the world and its character’s powers and abilities are more grounded. Instead of cultivators who can soar through the heavens and shatter planets, you will find martial artists who can still perform superhuman feats but not so fantastical as to tear through space or achieve immortality.The world of The Reticent Blade is one of medieval China, loosely based upon the time period of the Ming Dynasty. It is a time of chaos and strife, where war and death are rampant. We follow the intertwining story of several protagonists and antagonists as they navigate the chaotic times, unraveling the threads that connect the past, the present, and the future of the world.The Reticent Blade is a story of heroism, love, revenge, and cruelty.The Reticent Blade is a story of both the righteousness and vileness of the jianghu.

‘Seoul 2056’ is set in a world that has fallen into chaos due to the spread of mutant viruses and the rebellion of androids. A hidden scenario was opened when all the endings were collected for the first time in the world.In a world where everyone’s body has been modified into a machine, and all kinds of monsters and hunters run wild, the only privilege given is [pure organism] , which is impossible to modify. In the apocalyptic cyberpunk world that has become reality, a veteran’s hellish survival story of being possessed by an F-class hunter!

The world of basketball is full of passion and will.

This is a game between men and men, a collision of muscles and a contest of skills.

Zhang Jun, who came through time, picked up his previous dream and embarked on his own basketball path.

“Hello, I’m Zhang Jun, and I will become a legend.”

(High-definition, uncoded, no dog blood, there are already two completed works, character guarantee, feel free to enter the pit)

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.