American Exorcism Male God - Chapter 409 Dark Power Crystal

Qin Aofeng, a third-generation descendant of the great and prestigious Qin Family, was just as famous as his genius big brother Aotian, but was famed in Qin City for being the “Good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master.”

The compound is perilous, the clan is full of conflict. Before her rebirth, she dressed as a male, her birth a mystery. Because of her lack of talent, she was thought of as a worthless member of the clan. After her rebirth, she walked onto the path of a strong person, and lived on the continent like a fish in water.

Until one day at the capital city of the empire, the spear of the patriarch pointed to her young uncle that she always treasured, the “young male” that had always been undistinguished stood out, and astounded everyone, becoming a peerless genius. Ever since then, countless males and females became made for … …

The vast ancient forests, the deep bogs shrouded in back mist, the desolate and endless desert, the mountains and plains without any border where the magical beasts moved unhindered, this was a vast magical world.

- Description from Novelupdates

Got roomed with another straight man in a love hotel and had to share a bed. Meeting by the road side on a certain day, the boy in his arms was smiling wildly.

Hey, let me explain myself, don’t go ahead of yourself. I was just being a samaritan. I had to help, even if I lied about being a straight man like you.

Are you running away after getting me excited? Let’s see what kind of ending you want today.

Since you all asked for a wife chasing crack, then let’s perseverate to the end. I’m not crazy, you are the one who is crazy. This is probably a crack but still gentle gong and a shou fighting against the crack story. Lighthearted! Comedy! No brain cells will be lost!

- Description from Novelupdates

“When I opened my eyes, I found myself as a character in a game. It was bewildering, but I thought it was worth a try. That was until I saw the skill given to me. It was [Opening Eyes], with no abilities whatsoever.”The story starts with the MC playing a game that is “Very Difficult”, so difficult, in fact, that no one has ever managed to kill the last boss. After 18 years of playing and, having the best attempt be at 30% of the last boss’s HP, he decides to try out a character that he never used.This character was the Slit-Eyed character. It had garbage stats and garbage traits. But, since the MC had ran out of options with every other character, he was trying to see if he could find any secrets with this new character. So he puts in his name ‘Zero’ and presses play… Only to find himself inside the game, as the Slit-Eyed character.

“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.