I Can Track Everything - Chapter 849 - Shadow

“I can’t believe my eyes. The ice lord actually kissed a man. God, help me!”

“I’m surprised that the son of the Bai family is actually the ugly and stupid second young miss!”

Who was it who melted the ice lord’s exterior and caused the awakening of his hidden gentle side?

She is black-bellied and crafty. She would never consider herself a good person, and would not go out of her way to provoke other people. But, once she is provoked, she will pay it back 1000-fold, showing no mercy.

He is cold and detached, elegant, magnanimous, and known as the ice lord, a heartless gentleman.

Will sparks fly when the iceberg collides with a black-belly? Is it hopeless, or will there be excitement?

- Description from Novelupdates

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT 18+. No rape. No NTR. No Yuri]WebNovel Spirity Awards 2025 EntryPlease note that any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, real world events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. The characters, places, and incidents portrayed in this work of fiction are products of the author's imagination.

Enemies always meet on a narrow road and when they meet war breaks out.

They met as kids and fought but Zi Han lost.

They met in the army as recruits and even then Zi Han lost.

He lost again as he remained a sergeant while Yi Chen was promoted to the position of Marshal.

Even when his dark history swallowed him whole and shifted allegiance to become the Universe’s most infamous assassin he still lost to Yi Chen.

Zi Han, “Damn it! Why won’t you let me win.”

Yi Chen, “I can let you win in bed if you like?”

Zi Han, “……”

When did enemies graduate from rolling in the dirt fighting to rolling in the sheets….. fighting? That’s the million-dollar question.

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“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.