The Strong, The Few, True Cultivators on Campus - Chapter 246

Anger issues was never a problem for Rio, but how can he say that after he swiped away his system in anger when the crystallization began on earth.With portals popping up and monster storming out of them how can Rio be expected not get angry at his lack of a level up tool.Armed with just an axe, as the days go by, Rio has a rapidly building peeve against his never present system and the last virtue on his list is tolerance.“System”“......... ”“System”“...…..”“Grrrrr!! Grrrr!!”With loud menacing growls the wolf like creatures approached, but Rio was busy looking for what spot in the room had better connection and would let him access his system.“If you guys don't shut up, I'll kill you.”Normally, worlds undergoing crystallization should be struggling to get stronger and survive the brutal process but on earth it is different as they are rather focused on pleasing their brutal and unforgiving Tyrant

Sulí woke up from chaos without any memories, and without a system on her, simply living through each life cycle indifferently, guided by some mysterious force. Slowly, she realized that in every life, her identity was that of a supporting character with a bad ending...A wife discarded by her husband,The leading student led astray,An ordinary girl taken down by vanity,A childhood friend with toxic tendencies,Romances entangled with embroidered balls,The so-called phoenix men...After countless lifecycles, amassing immense merit and golden radiance, Sulí found out that things were far from being as simple as she thought.

Being a doctor is hard. You need to go through four years of college and four years of phd, costing eight good years of your life and a giant amount of money, but still become a normal people. What else can you do? Well, someone has an answer. With a little luck, one can easily become the peerless divine doctor better than anyone in the city!

“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.