Strategy to Capture That Scum Gong - Chapter Ch162.1 - On the Proper Way of Hugging Big Thighs (1)

In childhood, they were neighbors. Xie Zhen always bullied Li Yu.

The witch, Elonora Asil, has fifteen previous convictions.

And the transmigrator, Noah Park, had no intentions of being involved in the novel’s original plot of the dragon beheading the villainess. With that thought in mind, she abandoned her titles as The Wicked Witch and sought to live a long and peaceful life.

So she heads down to the countryside wrought with deep remorse for all her misdeeds. And all should be happy… or she thought.

“Please raise me!”

And so it would seem that she stumbled upon the heroine’s pet dragon — the black-haired kid that would turn ballistic and obsessive later on — imprinted the villainess as his mother. And to make matters worse, the male lead suspects her as the prime culprit of stealing the dragon.

“How long should I keep up with you?”

She thought he’d arrest her right away, but seems like the male lead was slowly becoming the dragon’s butler.

“Can I hug you?”

“No.”

“Then… can you hold me?”

The villainess believes that the dragon needs a bit of taming.

‘Oh, male lead, won’t you sign a life contract as a real butler?

Beside the coast, a hundred-meter star gate is overflowing with light.

Outside the star gate, the army made of steel can’t see the edge at a glance.

On the sky, a fighter jet flew across the sky, interweaving the iron curtain.

In the distant ocean, aircraft carriers, destroyers, and frigates are all over the sea, ready to go.

All the muzzles were aimed at a figure walking out of the star gate.

“I order you to withdraw in the name of the Federal Command, otherwise, all-out war awaits you.”

“war?”

Ancient and Jinlai took a step forward, and his body rose against the wind. In an instant, he grew from less than two meters to a Chaos Demon God thousands of meters high. The brilliance of a white dwarf radiated from him, and his own gravity alone caused it to be caused by thousands of miles around. Lightning and thunder, tsunami tides.

He bows his head…

Looking at a toy-like war weapon.

Reaching out, a hydrogen bomb fell into his hand.

The electron degenerate star nucleus in the body releases helium, and the helium element expands. The terrifying high temperature instantly causes the isotopic elements of hydrogen to aggregate deuterium and tritium, and the energy explodes. The sudden white brilliance is like lighting a sun on the sea.

Before waiting for the sun’s energy to be released, he closed his hands together, and the blazing whiteness mixed with hundreds of millions of high temperatures was compressed and sealed in the palm of his hand, escaping less than half of it.

“I think you should choose peace.”

- 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.