Painting of the Nine Immortals - Chapter 985 - Within Reach

“In a world where power determines everything, the most dangerous weapon isn't a sword... it's knowing what happens tomorrow.”※※※Cast aside by his own noble family, Vaerik Tudor finds himself exiled to the merciless Northern Province—a frozen wasteland where most are sent to die.No magic. No special bloodline. No legendary weapon.Just when death seems certain, something unexpected activates: a mysterious Daily Intelligence System that provides him critical information about the future.[As the sun rises tomorrow, a dead god's massive body will break through the ice-covered lake, with its heart somehow still beating, pulsing with the ancient power of winter itself.][One young wolf, fiercer than all the rest, fought and defeated every other cub in the red valley territory, becoming the new leader of the entire pack.][Nearly forty battle-scarred giant wolves are right now creeping through the valley to the southeast, with muscles ready to spring and teeth ready to bite, planning to take over your land when night falls.][A never-ending wave of walking dead bodies will soon swallow up every country on this land mass, with the human race barely surviving—for every million people alive today, only one will remain.][A runaway princess from the northern tribe has fled to the red valley lands, but weakened by starvation and freezing temperatures, she has collapsed unconscious in the barren wilderness and will be eaten by a giant white bear before sunset today.]While southern nobles drown in their politics and pleasure, Vaerik is building something unprecedented in the frozen north. A domain where slaves become free citizens. Where barren wasteland transforms into fertile fields. Where loyalty is earned, not demanded.But the north holds ancient dangers...Frost dragons shriek dominance above his impenetrable cold-forged bulwark.Frost giants patrol the mines containing precious magical marrow. Barbarian tribes plot revenge against imperial invaders. Religious zealots hunt for heretics. And an unstoppable threat looms on the distant horizon that could consume the entire continent.Winter is coming, and this storm will eventually engulf the entire continent. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.※※※Warning: Contains fortress-building, territory management, strategic battles, hidden talents, and a protagonist who rises from forgotten exile to become the most feared lord in the north. For fans of kingdom-building, strategic progression, and war.

The road to immortality is full of dangers and obstacles. Let's see how a young slave of a prominent clan changes his destiny and creates his own legend. Thousands of years later, the world bows to him and refers to him as the Celestial Master or Heavenly Locust Emperor.......

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After making a deal with a peculiar goddess, Victor awakens in a new world of swords & magic with a body of pure darkness and far too many eyes.

He had become a Netherborne—the strongest undead race in all of existence.

But what happens when a human mind inhabits such a creature? With dulled emotions and an insatiable hunger?

Does only death and destruction await the world? Or will Victor be the herald of a new undead civilization?

“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.