Sovereign to Immortality - Chapter 1589 - – Purple Clouds, Beginning of the War

There lived an extremely miserable man- he suffered from a terminal illness. But one fine day, when he left his miserable body, a certain entity grants him another chance- another life along with few gifts to help him in his journey.The man is transmigrated into the body of a young man into an ancient society. Watch how the man lives his new life and conquers the world.[This book will contain R18 scenes but do not expect it to be the theme of the book. It will be mostly based on strategies and expansion of empire. A small advancement in the technology can also be expected.]

A hundred thousand years ago, there was a great war between cultivators. Immortals fell by the tens of thousands, the path of cultivation itself was severed, and after the dust settled, tombs forested the world.

A hundred thousand years after the last legend faded, Lu Yun, commandant of tomb raiders, descends upon the world. Armed with the Book of Life and Death, he has some burning questions to answer.

……

“This isn’t how you raid a tomb!” Lu Yun smirked at the cultivators frantically scurrying about the ancient tomb. “Do you want me to teach you?”

……

But ah, can someone teach him how to cure his new body’s erectile dysfunction?

Way, way, and very way before I was even born, my world was invaded. Actually, not just my world, my entire damn universe was overrun by another, led by a single race that called themselves the Eternals.And they were prepared. Very prepared. Every life we lost in the war against them was used by them. They didn’t just kill people, they captured their souls, forged them into Phantoms, and used the souls to twist beasts into Abominations. Our dead became their army.Three hundred years later, I was born. A guy with way too much energy. Sitting still? Impossible. Taking it slow? Not happening. I was always moving, always ready to burst into action. Then I awakened, and got a talent too.My Talent's Name Was Generator.Because of it I never ran out of energy. Ever. My muscles? Supercharged. My healing? Faster. My stamina? Please, I had no idea what being tired even felt like.So if the universe wanted to throw an endless war at me?Fine. I’d throw everything I had right back.I wasn’t born a hero. Never wanted to be one. But this war? It wasn’t just my universe’s fight anymore. It was mine. The Eternals made sure of that when they took my parents' souls.

“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.