Urban Romantic Divine Doctor - Chapter 739 - 737, A Direct Slap in the Face

Originally born from a wealthy family, she ends up leading a vagrant life for fifteen years. However, when she is eventually found by her family, she falls into another devious plot and eventually dies tragically.

Allen, an eight-year-old boy from a poor family in the royal capital, is living a poor but happy life together with his mother. One day, however, memories of his previous life suddenly come back to him and he remembers that he is in an dating sim game and that the capital will be destroyed by war if he doesn’t do something about it. If this continues, both he and his mother will be killed! With a sense of urgency, he decides to rise to the occasion in order to save his precious mother’s life and save his favorite character, the villainous young lady Anastasia, the only girl he liked in the game, from her all too tragic and ruinous end. This is the story of a man who isn’t even a character in the game, but who strives with his steely determination and uses all the knowledge he has to turn overcome fate!

This novel is rated 18 with lots of fan service. If you are wondering if its.-NTR, No it's not.-Yuri, A big no, I guess. I don't know if it is, so maybe is the final answer.-Incest, yes! A BIG YESSSS!!!In a world ruled by cultivation and magic, the past centuries have been defined by the dominance of cultivators and mages.Cultivators capable of crushing planets with a mere squeeze of their hand, and sages who could destroy worlds with a single gesture, have long battled to prove which path holds the greater power. For thousands of years, their rivalry shaped the fabric of existence.However, the tides began to shift. Over time, the longevity of cultivators allowed their strength to grow with each passing year, while mages, bound by their limited lifespans, succumbed to the inevitable toll of mortality—even with the aid of rare elixirs.This gradual imbalance led to the decline of the mages' dominance. But everything changed when a young boy from a humble village awakened a system. When he saw her mother relieving herself at night in her room when he wanted to take a leak. This event caused significant changes for him, as he discovered that he could grow stronger by engaging in perverted activities.[You just masturbated. You just gained 10 experience points][10/100. Remaining to level up][You just ejaculated. You have gained 20 experience points & 10 Silver Solaris][30/200. Remaining to level up]

“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.