MTL - Ninja World: Insect Princess From Konoha - Chapter 592 glowing jellyfish

Sometimes, as we go about with our lives, we all happen to think of one specific thought at least once.

Programmer Li Daochong desperately develops the game code, dying. After waking up, being born again in a ghost-invading future comprehension world, isn’t that a pothole?

However, Li Daochong brought his own ghost upgrade system, which made my green onion. Others are devilish and scared, and they rush to hell. Hey, isn’t this the tip of China? I want to eat, drool!

Eating is not the most important thing. The key can be upgraded. How many levels does it take to finish?
　　
“Li Daoyou please stay, people want to go to the edge of the magic field on the edge of the magic field, can you accompany others? People are afraid!” Hongyang fairy is dripping at Li Daochong.

“Li predecessor, can you please go with a younger generation to go to a ghost dragon?” A white-haired girl who is more than two hundred years old can look at Li Daochong helplessly.

- Description from uukanshu (translated)

The heroine is sassy, ​​decisive, not a virgin, not hypocritical, and has an online IQ.

In the end of the world Five years ago, Jin Jiang was robbed of her space ability by her husband and thrown into a crowd of zombies.

In the new life, she first stocked up on supplies at the beginning, and waited for the end of the world to come.

In this life, she wants to build her own base, wouldn’t it be nice to be the boss?

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.