Commerce Emperor - Chapter Fifty: Death’s Spiral

A Failed score in the National Examinations was enough to make many youths desolate.Such a score should be the end of any Protagonist.With Parents who didn't love him, and a brother who was hellbent on using him as a stepping Stone, Levon's life was already colorful. Many waited for his Fall.However, there was a saying, that for a few, failure wasn't the end—but the beginning of something darker.“Mr. And Mrs. Belmont, My academy is interested in your son. Don't worry, we have just the place for him.”“Alright. Please, take the troublemaker away!”Levon watched in eerie calm, putting up no resistance.Soon, he thrust into a world completely unfamiliar to him. There was danger, chaos, and the promise of death looming in each corner.“Blood ACADEMY...”It was an odd place… an odd but interesting one.

I don’t know how to write an introduction. The few times I wrote it before, the more I wrote it, the more ugly it became. Let’s keep it simple:

This is a Marvel fan novel, with a little added Hong Kong manga elements, if you haven’t read Hong Kong manga, it won’t affect the reading experience.

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I have clairvoyance, and I can see antique treasures no matter where they are hidden. Is there anything else in the world that I can’t go to?

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“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.