Game of the Monarch - Chapter 223: Rage (2)

For five years, I've lived the life of a failure. Smashing my hands against the wooden target in hopes of entering a meditative state; a necessary step to becoming a cultivator.For five years, I've faced nothing but disappointment, looks of pity, and meager attempts at encouragement.But everything has to come to an end. An end, that for me, became a new beginning!Circuits, wires, and capacitors? Or maybe spirit powder, Spricur crystals, and Qi gathering formations?In a world where cultivation is, for most, merely a hobby and the worlds of mysticism and science are divided, I shall be the one to craft a bridge between the two!Why rely on ancient arrays to harness dense Qi? Isn't it easier to buy one of my converters, plug it into the wall, and be done with it?Is your gaming console malfunctioning, yet no tech shop can find the cause? Have you tried this the exorcising swatter 3.0?And you! Yes, you, the one whose reflection appears on the screen on your phone once you block it! Why would you buy static figurines if you can come to my shop... And get your hands on waifus that will actively flirt with you?Come all ye troubled souls, and allow this God to craft a solution to all your problems!

One day in the faraway Blue Boorish Mountain inexplicably appeared groups of scoundrels who came to reside there. It was said that those scoundrels came from the You Kingdom, Yen Kingdom and many others due to their failures in battle. And due to its dangerous terrain, no one had dared to conquer the Blue Boorish Mountain. As a result, this place obviously became a paradise to the scoundrel and thieves. They resided there and ruled the place.

They had also built up the Illusory Perennial Domicile, which meant a place that was their lifetime home. There was a group of scoundrels who had appointed themselves the Great Nine Bandits, and they were seen as the best baddies in the area. They built up a school in which the children of the Illusory Perennial Domicile would come and study only survival skills.

In such a small place appeared an orphan student named An Zheng who also came to study there. He was really a useless orphan in the people’s eyes due to his cowardice. They even said that he was a chicken who did not dare to do anything for himself even in fighting for himself, and no one cared about such a coward except a ten-year-old child, Du ShouShou, his only friend. As a result, he was the center for such baddies to cause trouble.

However, no one knew that orphan An Zheng would change his life forever as he went to a dead end.How powerful was that orphan? How much effort did An Zheng have to make in order to satisfy his passions of the devilish elimination? How would the life of his friend, Du ShouShou change after his after death spawn? And might the Great Nine Bandits be the invincible ones? Was he good or evil? Was his power strong or weak?

Was his world in perfect order or chaos? They were all questions that the little child An Zheng needed to discover during his journey.“Bring happiness to loyal people but chide the evil. However, if the treatment goes wrong, law will become a tool for the evil to force the good, preventing executors. Find a repugnant gateway to pass. Great things win cruel tricks. We learn from the idea of God but we reject the power of Him.”

Sangyan turned into a widow known to bring misfortune to her husband. Despised by her in-laws and disdained by her own family, she volunteered to retire to a remote estate to live out her days. At this moment, she caught the eye of a tyrannical emperor with a strange illness - being near a woman caused him unbearable itching and relentless vomiting.Hence, the 26-year-old emperor had never favored any of his consorts, let alone sired any heirs. The imperial harem constantly pressured him for offspring. The common people also yearned for a royal heir. When they learned that the tyrant held affection for Sangyan, the widow with the ill-fated destiny, the entire nation opposed their union.Eventually, the entire country pleaded with Sangyan to bear children for the sickly and tyrannical emperor...Beauty widow with a deadly fate VS Emperor with allergy to women

“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.