The Daily Life of the Immortal King - Chapter 162: Life Is a Circle

In the far future humanity is threatened by monstrous beings called kaiju now humans have expanded across the galaxy with the development of new techniques and fleets of mechs.Alto a young boy with dreams of becoming a great mech pilot is forced to be a mech designer. He finds a strange technology that opens his eyes to the vast secrets of the galaxy, now with a new purpose Alto must become something the world has never seen before.A/N: Just wanna do a good sci-fi book

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

- Description from novelbuddy

On the night when the savior of the wizarding world should have been born, Harry Potter died under the unforgivable curse.

The man who made almost all British wizards dare not call him by name, regained the wisdom and ambition that belonged to him from the Horcrux.

Darkness has completely enveloped the island of Great Britain.

Wizards are divided into high and low according to their bloodlines. Pure blood firmly holds the authority that belongs to the superior, and people called mudbloods can only be as humble as mud and trampled on throughout their lives.

The Ministry of Magic, which is supposed to enforce justice, is full of villains, and the castle, which is supposed to impart knowledge, is full of oppression.

In these dark times.

Jon Green, who came from across time, was brought into the exiled carriage that truly inherited the title of “Hogwarts”…

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There are already two million-word finished high-quality old books, quality assurance, welcome to enter the pit!

- 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.