God of Souls: Attaining the Strongest System in an Apocalyptic World - Chapter 24: Finding the Body

Accompanied by all kinds of crisis and despair, was the arrival of mankind’s first significant superhero.

“Listen up, my obedient disciple, it's time for you to descend from this mountain. Your master has arranged a marriage for you with a stunning beauty, and it's quite a steal!”With those words, the master absconded with the dowry, leaving Lin Chen feeling both aggrieved and furious. Determined, he descended the mountain to find his betrothed.However, fate had other plans, as he was waylaid on the road by a captivating woman who insisted he play the role of her fake boyfriend. To make matters even more bewildering, this woman bore an uncanny resemblance to his intended bride!

Teresa is a timid human whose life has been a series of unfortunate events—until she meets Lucian Blackwood, a very rich and handsome man who awakens a deep, unexplainable connection within her. But Lucian, an alpha werewolf with a haunting past, is repelled by Teresa’s perceived weakness, blaming weakness for the tragedy that shaped his life. Unable to accept her as his mate, he rejects and humiliates her, leaving Teresa shattered.Just as she’s picking up the pieces, Adrian Daegon, an ancient vampire with his own dark allure, steps into her life, determined to win her heart. Now, Lucian is torn with regret, desperate to reclaim the woman he cast aside. But to do so, he must face a powerful vampire and confront his own fears—while somehow convincing Teresa to forgive his betrayal and reignite their lost bond. Can love and redemption overcome the scars of rejection, or has Lucian's cruel mistake cost him his mate forever?Torn between two powerful forces, Teresa must decide where her true destiny lies—in the fierce grip of the wolf who scorned her or the dark embrace of the vampire who vows to adore her.

“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.