The Mad Tycoon of Rome - Chapter 265:

Lan Chang’an has gone through two lifetimes of reincarnations, and in the third life, he aimed for stability until reaching the Nascent Soul Realm in hopes of unraveling the mysteries of the Nine Seal Stele. Consequently, he cultivated the Ancient Trees Evergreen Technique, which wielded modest power in return for greater lifespan.

His approach is not one of fearlessly engaging in battles, but of navigating with steady precision and forging meaningful bonds with others.

Throughout his long cultivation journey, he encountered individuals at various stages of their cultivation, including a Decent Faction Head, a Prodigious Beauty, a Giant Demon Lord, an Evil Cultivator, a Thousand-Year Old Demon, and a Puppet Master Pulling Strings From Behind The Scene.

Observing the ebb and flow of the world, witnessing its ups and downs, he unknowingly became a living fossil in the realm of cultivation, akin to an evergreen tree spanning through eternity.

In the world of mortals, the flow of life is steady, shrouded in the illusion of longevity, yet decisions are made decisively, with a clear sense of morality.

Tang Zhixi is the illegitimate daughter of the Song family?

You grew up in the countryside and never went to school?

The Song family also claimed that they would never recognize her?

…

Until Tang Zhixi’s identity was uncovered, the Song family immediately prepared a banquet.

But Tang Zhixi directly refused, “Your Song family is also worthy?”

…

The third master in Dijing actually fell in love with a wild girl who had never even attended school.

I heard that I still hold it in the palm of my hand and pet it.

When the entire imperial capital was shocked, Ye Sanye said a word quite proudly: “My wife is not simple.”

…

Ye Hanzhi never believed in love at first sight until he met Tang Zhixi…

There are beauties in the north, who are all over the country and all over the city…

**

Tang Zhixi liked to wear skirts very much, and later… Ye Hanzhi’s shirt cuff buttons were all the color of her skirt.

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- Description from novelbuddy

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.