Supreme Alchemist - Chapter 2257 - 2247: Ling Wuqing

After death, Lu Chen becomes an interstellar meteorite. Carrying his longing for his family and Earth, he embarks on a journey through the universe!He sees light in the darkness, witnesses miracles in desolation, and through interactions with numerous magical biological and celestial civilizations, he continuously absorbs interstellar matter, gradually evolving from a small meteorite into a starstone, asteroid, planet, and finally a star.

[Space + Food + Su Shuangtian] Song Baozhu had three nightmares.

The first time she wanted to marry an educated youth, she dreamed that the other party was a Zhongshan wolf.

The second time she wanted to marry a soldier, she dreamed that she was occupied by a dove in a magpie’s nest after her marriage.

The third time, she fell into the water and was rescued by Shen Xuan. As soon as she got married, she dreamed that the other party was the richest man in the future, and there was a reborn female educated youth who did everything possible to marry him!

Song Baozhu: I’m not the original match for this cannon fodder!

Identify the main space in advance, make food, make pills, take university entrance exams, buy a house and open a store!

Men will only affect the speed at which she gets rich!

Shen Xuan: ? ? ?

Demining: [Natural power, beautiful, black-hearted heroine VS Junmei Wushuang, black and innocent male lead] [1V1 Shuangjie]

- Description from novelbuddy

The first time they met, she said to him, “Mr. Song, I see that you’re I’ll-fates, and I’m afraid that you will die soon. The people around him accused her of being a fraud, and threatened to beat her...

“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.