The Extreme Alchemist of the Mighty Cauldron - Chapter 880 - Twin Swords Strangling

Once the ultimate Soldier King and a supreme assassin, empowered by a magical Magic Bracelet, had mastered Cultivation, Medical Skill, X-ray vision, and foreseeing the future… became an omnipotent master of pretense. Come, come, come, watch the omnipotent master of pretense teach you a few tricks of pretense.A demonic man who walked out of a major foreign prison, yet married a cold Queen-like CEO wife, leading a life where “you glare at me with displeasure, and I look at you with disdain.”

“Who knew the key to surviving a deadly island was... well, charm? Guess I’ve got a superpower after all.” – Lucas Carter.When a school field trip takes a disastrous turn, Lucas Carter and his classmates find themselves stranded on a remote, uncharted island. With no rescue in sight and the wilds teeming with danger, survival becomes a brutal challenge. But when Lucas awakens the Harem Survival System, everything changes.The system is as bizarre as it is powerful: for every woman Lucas seduces, he gains extraordinary survival skills and critical resources.From hunting and crafting to strategic foresight, each intimate connection gives him the tools to outwit the island’s many threats.As Lucas grows stronger and more capable, the dynamics among his classmates shift.Friendships turn into alliances, jealousy brews in the shadows, and the boundaries between survival and desire blur.Meanwhile, the island itself hides secrets far more dangerous than its untamed wilderness.

With a marriage contract forcefully done, he married her, and all she could do was comply, and resent him deeply for that and for all the following misunderstandings they faced.
However, it was already too late when she understood she actually loved him.

“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.