The Card Apprentice - Chapter 532 - Offense Is the Best Defense

The Sheng Mei Tribe, known for its beauty, has been warring with the Shen Mu Tribe for three years. The men of the Sheng...

[Congratulations, host on your successful transmigration. Thank you for your patronage. You have been allocated the Tycoon Inheritance System. Do you wish to bond with the system?]

“Inheritance?”

Now known as Chen Kai in a parallel world to his original earth, he is given the gift to live this life as carefree as ever.

“No, citizens to lead. No wars are to be fought. No politics. No demanding missions. I'm back to being a simple nobody with endless opportunities”

[Host would you like to bind with the system to gain your inheritance?]

“Sure. What's life without some perks?”

……………………………………………………………

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This is a happy story of a lawbreaker who legally obtained a C-level skill from an agent, was forced to replace an A-level item, voluntarily steal a B-level skin, and forcibly smuggled into the world of pirates. .

Assuming that a lieutenant general has an average combat strength of 100, a domineering level of B, a speed level of A, and a strength level of B, if an individual with this goal of growth has an initial combat strength of 1, the average annual growth rate of combat strength is 1.24. The uncertainty increase and decay value caused by the accident is ±2.5, and the trigger conditions of the domineering system are unequal and random. Try to demonstrate the following questions:

1. Describe the nature of the Devil Fruit and explain how it works.

2. Explore what is the mutual restraint mechanism of “Domineering – Fruit”?

PS: Due to various reasons, the announcement is made in a serious and responsible attitude. The two words “strong” in several names are very reliable. As for the last two words… miraculously, it has nothing to do with the content.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.