Rebirth: I Am Super Rich in Apocalypse - Chapter 430: A Fine Line Between Life and Death

Saintess wants to turn me into a sword spirit; the master wants me to be a rebel disciple; the blindfolded sword fairy senior sister wants to make me her slave; the fox from Qingqiu harbors ill intentions; the little dragon girl always drools over me; the princess wants to keep me in the deep palace...All I want is to cultivate immortality, so why do they always have designs on me!? Many years later, someone asks Lu Jin'an what kind of Dao heart supported him to get this far? Lu Jin'an glances at his charming and alluring wives and sighs faintly：“I just wanted freedom.”

Having a rough life growing up, Wang Tong had numerous dreams of living a better life. However, his alcoholic foster father sells him off as a space settler of the distant planet Norton for some pocket change. Soon after his arrival, the Zergs overran the planet and obliterated its defenses in a matter of minutes. What awaited Tong on Norton was more than just an unbearable environment – its gravity alone was five-times stronger than earth – there were also swarms of bugs, constant hunger, thirst, and desolation.

While he lives a year of total carnage and survival, humanity’s Confederation eventually overcomes the Zergs on Norton and the powerful survivor Wang Tong is given a recommendation to a once famous, but now dying military academy where he begins his life anew.

- Description from Novelupdates

A new law has been passed as part of the nation's measures to address the low birthrate.Rude women become livestock.Rebellious women become livestock.Women who commit crimes become livestock.In a world where common sense has been distorted, this is the story of women whose human rights have been erased.

“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.