My Wife Is a Transmigrated Master Cultivator - Chapter 2238 - : Something’s Wrong with the Dean and Teachers (1)

This book is about the rise of a Beast-controlling Sect disciple. There are a thousand kinds of demonic beasts, all kinds of divine arts, countless worlds, and endless Great Dao.Here, you can see the Beast-controlling Sect disciples riding Western dragons and Behemoths. You can also see the sect disciples controlling Golden-armored Zombies, Flying Yakshas, and fighting Necromancers. One by one, the different worlds will gradually unveil their mysterious veil, revealing their enchanting appearance…

Ghost stories descend, binding national fate.People enhance themselves and their nation's luck by constantly participating in Analog Horror.Mental patient Jiang Xiao is initially selected to enter a nine-star level mental hospital Analog Horror!However, he bizarrely finds out that he seems to be the most seriously ill one...Jiang Xiao: “I sign a pact with the ghost stories, the weirdness is my grandson!”Participating in the seven-star level Analog Horror “Where Did Daddy Die”.A peachy-cheeked son with big eyes blinking asks: “Do you want to be my daddy?”The chosen one: “Yes!”Son: “Then I have a tiny request, which is to beat you to death!”One chosen daddy after another is smashed into pulp by the son right from the start.Facing the rebellious son charging forward, Jiang Xiao smiles coldly: “Dad, I'm actually your son!”

“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.

When Hao Shuai discovered that he had the ability to travel through the heavens…

What? Does anyone want this treasure? no one asked me to take it

What? This treasure is yours? But Pindao feels that this thing is destined for me

Remember, after I die, I must throw my body into the sea, because in this way I can continue to surf.

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