Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse - Chapter 479: Not My Place

“Wu Long, the God of Pleasure, has fallen as he failed to breakthrough.”

This news have shocked all of the Seven Boundless Worlds.

Meanwhile, a sixteen-year-old disciple of a dual cultivation sect was startled awake from a coma, and after some moments of calming down and gathering his thoughts, a dangerous light flickered deep in his eyes: “Jun Shaoshan, I will climb back to the top and make you pay for everything, no one has ever been safe after offending me, Wu Long!”

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Wang Xuan entered Longmao Square and was trapped in it. When he finally left, it turned out…

This is the last building on earth.

- Description from novelbuddy

At first, when he learned that he was forced to go to many different routine worlds and be reborn into all kinds of cannon fodder, he was against it.

Because villains usually all only have a moment of satisfaction, the endings of cannon fodder are also frequently quite miserable.

But the man who gave him the system told him that this system not only has all types of powerful functions, but he can also break the routine lives of the cannon fodder. If he achieves this satisfactorily for each world, he can even become a god.

He’s already experienced over a thousand reincarnations, but hasn’t yet been a god. Since it sounds pretty great, why not just try it out.

From that moment on, he began the irreversible path of tyrannically oppressing people, while conveniently tearing open those white moonlights and so-called righteous people’s hypocritical masks.

His goal: wearing the villain’s role to walk other people’s righteous paths, leaving them no path to follow.

- Description from novelupdates

“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.