From Abyssal Invasion to Bursting Stars with a Single Sword - Chapter 210 - 172: Combat Power of Mechanical Transformation_2

Three Days of Happiness is a novel by Sugaru Miaki, also known as Fafoo. It’s a rewritten version of the story originally posted to 2ch.

The premise of the story revolves around a shop where one can sell away the remaining years of their life, and the consequences of doing so.

“I Say A Little Prayer” is a short related story which was posted along with the novel’s release. It spoils some things about the main story, but nothing major.

[Entertainment Industry + Strong Female Lead + Refreshing Story + Hidden Identity]The Young Sect Master of the Tang Sect, Tang Shu, who was skilled in Poison Techniques and Hidden Weapons, had transmigrated and became an 18th-tier newbie, debuting as a supporting actress.After a variety show aired:Haters: “I actually think Tang Shu is kind of cute. Is there something wrong with me?”When the National Mechanical Engineering Research Institute announced: Miss Tang is our key-appointed research consultant.Haters: “What????”When an authoritative Chinese medicine expert revealed during an interview: The development of a new type of medicine owes much to Tang Shu.Haters: “Isn't this just too coincidental?”When the Porcelain Restoration Department openly stated: No one surpasses Tang Shu in the fields of porcelain restoration and calligraphy and painting.Haters: “Is this white lotus getting a bit too intoxicating?”When a Weibo big V with millions of fans accidentally revealed her face during a live broadcast...The haters all declared that their minds were blown!***Jing Yu, the favored son of heaven, had always had an iron grip and a successful career until— he met Tang Shu.Inside the cinema, after watching four or five movies in a row, he realized the person sitting next to him hadn't changed, enjoying the popcorn with great relish.Jing Yu's throat moved slightly; this woman was flirting with him.Facing each other in a coffee shop, she casually pulled out a double-sided straw and placed it in her cup.Jing Yu's eyes tinted red; this woman was definitely flirting with him!

The Strongest Magic meets the Mightiest Mecha.

I have stolen Golden Mechas from the deepest vaults of the most tightly guarded fortresses in the world.

I have personally destroyed more armies than the top three superpowers have in the span of the Absolute War - combined.

I burned down the terrorist megacity of Habon.

I was expelled from the Union of Heroes at a younger age than people are allowed in.

I have talked to Ancient Gods, loved women, and devoured mechas that would make superpowers cringe in fear.

I have faced demons head on in moonless nights others fear to speak of during the day.

I am deified in a thousand cultures, and labelled as the devil incarnate in the rest.

I am the Mecha Emperor.

You may have heard of me.

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Excerpt from Chapter 1

This is where it all began.

A junkyard.

Oh no, this isn't your clean, mechas-only junkyard that was the 'starting point' of many mecha geniuses out there.

I have seen and heard my share of rags-to-riches stories, and many of them claimed that they had started from 'junkyards' and slowly grew to be where they were right now.

From Zero to Hero, they declared.

You can do it too, they said.

As long as you work hard, everything is possible, they claimed.

I call bullshit.

Life doesn't work like that.

“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.