The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld - Chapter 65

She was the Spirit Master of the Tea Hill. He was the Head of the Kunlun. They met each other by chance in Jiangnan. With many twists and turns, they got married. Unexpectedly, there were plots in store for them. After the resurrection, he forgot her… But she had his child… To meet him again, she endured the torture of the naga poison; for the people of the Tea Hill, she chose to be a devil… But fate still pushed her to a path without a turning back… She killed demons and devils but was used by others… Finally, she had to stand opposite to him… For the happiness and benefits of the three realms, she was incarnated as the Creation Goddess… She was the Spirit Master of the Tea Hill, Jiang Wuyou…

“Reincarnated into the World of Magic as a demon, the last thing Davis expected was to grow up right amidst the arms of angels. Ever since the group of philanthropic angels took pity on his miserable birth and adopted him, Davis has been forced to keep his evil identity a secret while he signed in to the system.

“”Ding! The Host has signed in at Angel’s Pond, ‘The Saint’s Halo’ is rewarded!””

“”Ding! Devil’s blood activated. Sign in error. ‘The Devil’s Curse’ is additionally rewarded!””

“”Ding! The Host has signed in at God’s Throne, ‘Gold’s Holy Axe’ is rewarded!””

“”Ding! Devil’s blood activated. Sign in error. ‘The Devil’s Manifistation’ is additionally rewarded!””

After a thousand years of quietly signing into places in the City of Angels and being rewarded with double the rewards, Davis’s true identity finally came to light! Now as a true Devil, Davis had both the world of angels and demons surrendering at his feet!”

“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.