Apocalyptic Era: Starting from picking up a Bishoujo - Chapter 10 - 9 Basement 3 of the 15th building

Before rebirth, Xia Man had been wondering, when did Qu Zhen begin to hate her?

Was it when she foolishly followed behind her and constantly talked while eating? Or when she would always clumsily break the gifts she was given? So she started hating her?

Did she think such a person was not worthy of being her friend at all? Doesn’t deserve the sunshine?

Right! Sunshine or whatever, it can only be her Qu Zhen!

Xia Man always felt that the friendship between the two people was like Qu Zhen’s alms to herself, never equal.

Xia Man didn’t understand what Qu Zhen meant until she died.

“I thought I never missed it. Now I understand that I’ve never been right.”

Qu Zhen, in a sense, died by Xia Man’s hands, not from a zombie.

Qu Zhen, you could never have been right after doing something wrong. You should never fall in love with a person with a distorted personality.

After Xia Man was reborn, she only wanted one thing.

She wanted those who used her to hurt Qu Zhen to die rather than to live!

- Description from Novelupdates

Leo, a common middle school student, was accidentally invited to a Wechat group full of legendary immortals, such as the Monkey King, ErLang Sheng, the Dragon King of the East. Since that day, his life completely changed. With the mystical items receive from his WeChat group,

- Description from Novelupdates

Have you often come across a game where you start with a bonfire, surrounded by ice and snow, with resources all manually transported, and monsters attacking at any time...Xia Hong wakes up to find himself in such a world.The ice and snow rage on, beasts rule the land, civilization is lost, and all people and things that once existed have been invaded into powerful and bizarre entities, leaving humans as a humble race surviving in the shadow of winter, on the brink of extinction.Fortunately, Xia Hong possesses a camp system that can upgrade infinitely.[Small Bonfire]—[Iron Furnace]—[Solar Cauldron]...[Wooden Post]—[Training Ground]—[Martial Arts Hall]...[Bamboo Fence]—[Black Soil Wall]—[Iron Wall]...[Monument Stone]—[Notice Board]—[Hero's Monument]......As Xia Hong slays the beasts and exterminates the bizarre entities, gradually gathering humans, dispelling the winter, and opening up territory, the mysterious veil of this world is slowly unveiled in its entirety.

“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.