I Only Have Support Skills - Chapter 40: Opium Red

Cross the world of suspected secondary elements and carry the rescue system for welfare.

Can you increase your level by increasing your proficiency?

Can you get all kinds of items and abilities after the completion of the task?

Still, need to travel to more secondary worlds to complete the rescue mission?

Well, before Li Yalin needs to consider the most, how to earn enough debt of one hundred million to hold the coffee shop carrying the girl’s dream.

Everything has to start here…

- Description from Novelupdates

The war in the kingdom intensified, and the orcs from the North were ready to take action. They traveled through time and became the ninth son of an earl. He was not qualified to inherit the title, but accidentally obtained the daily intelligence system. With the help of the daily intelligence system, he began to build a territory and obtain the title.

[Daily information has been updated]

[1: Renn was wandering around the Lucerne town market today and accidentally bought a life fruit from Mijie’s pulp shop. After taking it, he officially condensed the life seeds]

[2: In the northern part of your territory, there is an extremely rich iron mine among the Golimbo tribe]

[3: In ten days, your territory will be attacked by tauren]

[4. After seven days, there will be a group of unicorns looking for food in the west of your territory]

【5：…………】

[6: Engel Dressrosa seems to have some troubles, coming from the limitations of his own strength]

【7:……】

- Description from novelbuddy

Yuan Ye and film emperor Fang Shaoyi were married for ten years. After a stamp from the Ministry of Civil Affairs, they got divorced and their red booklets became green booklets. Back when they had gotten married, they had proudly announced the news to the whole world. After their divorce, though, neither dared to speak up, determined to hide this development.

“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.