City of Sin (Yanyu Jiangnan) - Vol 9 Chapter 132: A New Race

Traveling to the fantasy world, when Leiter was in his forties, he finally became a little nobleman – the lord of Young Eagle Town.

Only then did he discover that he also had golden fingers.

Looking at the two options of [Text Simulation] and [Real Simulation], Leiter hesitated to choose [Real Simulation].

[Do you want to enable real simulation? Every simulated day consumes 5 destiny points. 】

“yes”

 …

[The real simulation is over, please choose an attribute you want to keep. 】

【1. Constitution】

【2. Dou Qi】

【3. Mental power】

Fantasy simulation, lord farming, family growth, more exciting, please watch!

ps: It is definitely not a studio article, so rest assured to read. Focusing on territory and family, perhaps, this book can bring warmth and harmony

- Description from novelbuddy

Xu Ping'an was overjoyed to marry, but what welcomed him was a deception.Eight years of devotion, eight years of infatuation, only to be repaid by the one he loved plucking his spine and devouring his bloodline.“You take my spine, I'll turn my Thunder Sword into bone, defy the heavens to change my fate, and awaken the memories of the Immortal Emperor from a past life.”In this life, I will make all those who betrayed me descend into Hell!

Aiden, who spent his days staring at a screen and playing the same game, 'Leclentia', had finally succumbed to his unhealthy lifestyle and died...

However, he found himself reincarnated in a world full of mythical creatures and magic, with his consciousness inhabiting the body of a frail young boy who was supposed to attend the mage academy.

“Wait... I've reincarnated into Leclentia!”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

“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.