My Wife Is a Transmigrated Master Cultivator - Chapter 2260 - : Group Beaten, You Old Man

The human Race is at war with the Vicious Dalki and when they needed help more than ever, THEY started to come forward.

Humans who had hidden in the shadows for hundreds of years, people with abilities.

Some chose to share their knowledge to the rest of the world in hopes of winning the war, while others kept their abilities to themselves.

Quinn had lost everything to the war, his home, his family and the only thing he had inherited was a crummy old book that he couldn’t even open.

But when the book had finally opened, Quinn was granted a system and his whole life was turned around.

He completed quest after quest and became more powerful, until one day the system gave him a quest he wasn’t sure he could complete.

"It is time to feed!"
"You must drink human blood within 24 hours"
"Your HP will continue to decrease until the task has been completed"

When she woke up, her nightmares began.After a tragic accident, Lu Mengjie woke up with no memory of who she was, unable to recognize the people around her as well. Without her memories to guide her, she was like a blank canvas... that was until the Devil from her past finally appeared.The Devil was known for his cruelty, a heartless man who only cared for himself and no one else. He would use anyone as his pawns, however he liked. He was a selfish tyrant walking freely in the world he saw as hell.They were two imperfect souls; one was damaged, and yet, she had a fire burning inside that refused to be put out by the iciness of the world around her, while the other was filled with complete darkness, as the world had eaten him alive with its brutality.Simply intended to be together, their love for each other was perfectly imperfect, and out of their control.Join Lu Mengjie on her journey to unravel the mystery of her accident and the enigma that surrounded the Devil in her memory. Their love would be tested. Lives would be lost. Love conquers all but would their love be strong enough to withstand what's coming their way?

Originally from the slums, Adam was chosen as a candidate for an experiment to ignite the Spark - an entity that gives superpowers. However, he failed and was thrown into the Dead Lands - the place the world became after the fall of the Last Star, beginning a new era for mankind, dangerous and unexpected. He faced against monsters and dangerous anomalies, sometimes creating artifacts - the miracle of this world.Killing his first monster in deadly combat, Adam became a Phantom - one who could evolve, endlessly moving toward power.Follow Adam on his journey, from fighting monsters and exploring Dead Lands to endless evolution!

“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.