You Might Die If I Cast My Healing Spell - Chapter 381 - The Lord Of Cinder’s Power (II)

Qin Lin was electrocuted by playing a nostalgic “Ranch Story” game, and suddenly gained the ability to enter the game. He also found that he could bring the watermelons grown in the game out of reality.

At first, he calculated that a pound of watermelon would sell for 2 yuan. As long as he sells 10,000 catties of watermelon seeds in the game, he can earn 20,000 yuan a day.

Later, he discovered that by upgrading pastures, he could obtain advanced crops beyond the world, raising livestock to obtain advanced livestock breeds that were far beyond the world, and building factories to obtain various formulas that were far beyond the world, and everything was different.

- Description from novelbuddy

Ye Chu was reborn, and he was reborn on the body of the heir of the Ye family who was supposed to be bent.

From now on—

National male god, master of metaphysics, super scholar and other status blessings! She is the existence that drives everyone crazy!

*

I heard that Ye Xiubai, the current head of the Ye family, is Ye Chuyang’s uncle.

Ye Chuyang: No, he is my man!

[Women disguise themselves as men Shuangwen, the male protagonist and the female protagonist are not related by blood, welcome to the pit! 】

- Description from novelbuddy

Zhao Ming arrived in the Douluo Continent with the Sign-In and Clock-In System, awakening the Puppet Martial Spirit—Yan Lingji, Yun Yun, Medusa, and more…As Zhao Ming led his ten puppets across the continent, the entire Douluo Continent gradually became his personal domain.Awakening the power of the world, he reveled in the embrace of beauties.Such is the destiny of men.He crushed Tang San, killed the Grandmaster, destroyed the Clear Sky School, unified the continent, and became the first emperor of the Douluo Continent.

“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.