The Reversal System: Only for the Elite at the Mahayana Stage - Chapter 11 – Jiang’s brain-damaged fan

“I was nothing... and now, I have one chance to steal everything.”In his previous world, Ethan was just another failure. No talents, no dreams, no hope.But death wasn’t the end it was a new beginning.He wakes up in the body of “Valerian Lucard,” the son of a great family... but the weakest among them. Neglected, shunned, broken.But this time, things are different.He has an unbelievable ability:Fate Theft.Skills, talents, future opportunities... he can steal them, but at a heavy price.And the worst part? What’s stolen... never lasts.Now begins his race against everyone: the elites, the geniuses, the chosen heroes.Not because he's strong, but because he refuses to be nothing... ever again.In this world, either you steal glory... or everything gets stolen from you.

Apocalypse had descended!Strange creatures sprung out from the earth bringing calamity upon the world, the earth was twisted beyond measure and even the moon was engulfed by the chaos.But it was only for a time, up until all waves of beasts would be cleared and the torment would lift, pending it's re-descent—in a never ending loop.A judgment from the gods.Their sins?No one had a clue.Their path to forgiveness?Even more unclear.Their only salvation was the Curse Bearers, people who could bend the wind to their will, move objects with as little as a thought and call mythical beasts to their aid.Ark was one of them, albeit with a little quirk.He was cursed to die, his curse set to consume his soul.But it was going to take far more than that to kill one born with the Heritage of a god!—————————————>R18 is for gore and Dark themes.Note: This is not your typical Apocalypse novel, the apocalypse is a well represented theme among many others.Just give it a read, I’m sure you’ll like it… or so they all say ;)Additional Tags:Two Worlds, Unusual system

The Celestial Express is a train that goes from one galaxy to the next, picking up passengers along the way.Its Navigator, the one who drives it through the stars, is a god who can grant those passengers wishes.Jax arrives on the Celestial Express with no memories but a single wish—to save someone. After learning what the Navigator is capable of, he decides to go find him.To find the Navigator, he must go through TEN different Carriages, all of which contain a world of their own.And, he must do it with a restriction called Single Spell Sorcerer.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.