Birth Of The Crafts-God - Chapter 280: Customer

People say that when a man becomes middle aged, their appearance and energy will become weak. Ye Qing Xin doesn’t feel that way. At least Jing Bo Yuan is not, his appearance and energy is still really great.

Introduction 1: The villagers, when mentioning Zhuang Qingning who had no parents, then fell ill and chose to live on her own rather than being fostered by her uncle's family, they sighed and shook their heads, thinking she was paving her own way to death.But who would have thought, she started a workshop, bought a shop, built a house, lived comfortably raising dogs and cats, and everyone who got close to her flourished financially?The villagers: Is it too late to get in good graces with the God of Wealth now? Awaiting your response, it's quite urgent......----Introduction 2: Everyone in the capital city sighed over the good fortune of the Prince Qi, who was unparalleled in his beauty, for he followed the wishes of the late queen and married an ordinary rural girl, thereby giving up an ideal marriage.But who would have thought, the prince was so considerate of his wife, spent fortune to bring a smile to her face, defied orders just to protect her, totally behaving like a man deeply in love......All the people: Excuse me, is it too late to start shipping this couple now?----This story is about a rural woman growing step by step, expressing warmth, lightness, encountering thorny paths and joyful achievements alike, where lovers eventually marry, and there is retribution for good and evil.

“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.

A wise man once said all roads lead to Rome. He didn’t know how right he was.Ripped away from the battlefield, Tiberius and his six thousand Roman Legionnaires unexpectedly find themselves stranded in a foreign land of magic and witchcraft. With no way home, their path forward is obvious: conquer everything in sight.Much to the chagrin of Marcus—the poor, unsuspecting bard who summoned them.But taking over the world is not so easy. In order to stake their claim, the Legion will need to learn how to navigate the strange magics and abilities this new world has granted them. Abilities which, upon closer inspection, may prove the seed for a legend in the making…The dawn of a new empire looms on the horizon. Rome will rise anew as they seize cities, battle armies, and expand their territory across this strange and fantastical world. All the while, Marcus will need to figure out how to mitigate the force of nature he's unleashed upon his woefully unprepared world. That, or simply enjoy the front row seat to an epic in the making. Someone will need to tell the story, and who better aside from him?The die has been cast. The aqueducts are being built. And Rome will once more see glory.