Another Cliché Cultivation Story - Chapter 101

“The universe is vast and boundless; the Dao is unpredictable.”Lin Beichen was reborn into a parallel world, and a mysterious and profound voice echoed in his mind. Though he didn't have a system, he unexpectedly discovered his Heaven-Defying Comprehension and could perceive everything at a glance.“How should I utilize my Heaven-Defying Comprehension?”Until one rainy day. The deluge poured down, Electric Flash intertwined with Lei Ming, and Lin Beichen gazed out the window in a daze. In that moment, inspiration struck, and his heart resonated with a profound sensation.He slowly stretched out his hand, opened his palm, and looked toward the thunderous sky. He began to clasp one finger toward the heavens and the earth.“In this world, there was no Cultivation Method. But since I am here, one should naturally appear!”“Palm Thunder!”[ps: A unique protagonist-centered cultivation genre]

The end of the world is full of crises, but Su Chen says not to worry because he has the Red Alert System. That’s how confident he is. You say you have a lot of weapons? Sorry, I have more weapons than I can use here. Let me introduce you to the weather control device. You say the mutant beasts are very powerful? No problem, I have a way to deal with them…

Goofy can’t get out of the Marvel world, and only death can force him to quit.

But the stupid system does not allow Gao Fei to die for no reason, only Gao Fei is allowed to sacrifice heroically for justice!

So in the Marvel world, there is an undead monster that provokes the villain everywhere!

“Loki, you are too weak!”

“Chitarui, shoot at me!”

“Dormammu, I’m here to die!”

” Thanos, snap your fingers!”

- 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.