Accidental Mark - Chapter 57

Ye Xiwen was previously only an ordinary university student on Earth, but unexpectedly crossed through into the world known as the Zhen Wu Jie world! In this world, formidable warriors are capable of turning over mountains and collapsing the ocean, destroying the sky and extinguishing the earth! He originally had ordinary aptitude, because of that he received the mysterious special space! Any martial art can be deduced within the mysterious space, other people practice for decades, he only needs a year! So long as he has enough spirit stones, any talents he faces are all floating clouds!

Ou Renjin likes keeping beautiful young men because he likes watching the drama.

Watching them be arrogant and conceited; watching them be obsequious and sycophantic; watching them have ulterior motives and fight with each other, seeing all the evil side of human nature.

Until, he picks up a poor little guy.

The poor little guy is ignorant and helpless, treating Ou Renjin as his whole world, spending all his salary to buy him gifts, standing in front of him in times of danger without hesitation, even…

…saying to him in the calmest and lightest of tones after knowing that their heart matching is successful, “I am very grateful that you have been hiding it from me, but I have long been ready to give my heart to you.”

* * *

036 was born as a test subject, without parents or friends.

As the only successful “petri dish of renewable organs”, he had every organ in his body cut out and transplanted to the rich and powerful countless times.

After getting used to the pain, he met the most special person in the world.

This person was so good that he wanted to cut out his own heart immediately.

- Description from Novelupdates

Being the author of the breakout novel, Gates of The Primordials, Jarren Fletcher did not care about the constant critiques claiming he had a habit of treating extra characters as mere plot devices, creating and then dumping them once they’d served their purpose.To Jarren, it didn’t matter. Extras were just that—extras. All that mattered was the main character.But Jarren never expected to wake up in his own story, reincarnated as one of the meaningless, disposable extra characters, Deremiah Morcant—a coward who took his own life to escape the perilous challenges of the Gate Trials.Now, Jarren has to face those deadly challenges himself in the body of a weak, insignificant extra. He must find a way to survive in the rules of the dangerous world he had created, whilst also trying to save it.But time is running out. The next Wave is coming, and so are the paragons.

“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.