Ultimate Level 1 - Chapter 218: The Impossible Save

At the end of a Dynasty filled with Demons and rampant Martial Artists, Lin Xuankong has unfortunately transmigrated to this era, becoming a poor and sickly old man. However, with the help of the system Life Plate, his Talent and Comprehension grow stronger the longer he lives.And his much younger wife is a martial master...“That iron ball used to be Zhang Wu's knife. I squeezed it a couple of times, and it ended up like this! ” said his wife.“I hope you can teach me some Cultivation Techniques. As for the reward...” said Lin eagerly.

Betrayed and left for dead, Richard Blackwood—formerly known as the world renowned hero Astralis—awakens a decade later to find the world has moved on, and an imposter now wears his mantle. Disguised as a rookie in the Mage Guild, he quietly hunts for answers.'If my little sister is levelled above me, then what about everyone else? How much stronger have the bastards who betrayed me grown while I was dead?'Richard must grow stronger once again, and rise much higher than the S-Rank.'What the fuck? I almost die, and I get a power up?'Not harem.

Li Qiao, a soft and glutinous girl, dresses up as the little daughter-in-law of a poor family.

Rural household registration, two dilapidated houses.

What she didn’t know was that her husband, who was not stingy at home, would become a business tycoon in the future, possessing supreme status and untold wealth.

What’s more, she didn’t know that the reborn step-sister was determined to take her place as the rich wife.

The step-sister is often persuaded to leave: brother-in-law drinks and fights, and is not good enough for you.

Li Qiao is irritable every day: He said he deserves me to death.

The step-sister added: He is too poor, you and your children suffer hardships with him.

Li Qiao blushed: He said that it is difficult to divide a child unless there is another one.

stepsister: …

- 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.