I Was Mistaken as a Monstrous Genius Actor - Chapter 437: Beast (6) - Edited

Lu Shang picked up a dirty teenager while discussing work at a bar. It was merely happenstance, but memories from ten years ago resurfaced when he saw the gunshot scars on the teenager’s back.

Lu Shang asked him, “What is your name?”

“Xiao Li… My surname is Li, so they all called me Xiao Li.”

“You don’t have a name?”

“I don’t remember.”

Lu Shang said, “Then I will call you Li Sui. From now on, you will be with me.”

From that day onward, a young “lover” was always by Lu Shang’s side.

Years later, Dr. Leung teased Lu Shang, “You didn’t get his heart, instead your heart caved in; boss Lu, that doesn’t seem like a bargain.”

Promise transmigrated to the TYPE-MOON world and became one of the students of Waver Velvet at the Clock Tower.But a dream must eventually come to an end.Upon waking from a night's sleep, he recalled his identity as a transmigrator and also discovered his golden finger.A Heroic Spirit Class Card.It can take Promise to different eras, and by leaving behind corresponding legends, he can ultimately ascend to the Throne of Heroes!He thus travelled to ancient Greek mythology and Norse mythology.Promise: “I heard after death, you can ascend to the Throne of Heroes. What are you waiting for, come on, kill me!”(PS: This book is not a traditional simulator story; its content mainly revolves around the Age of Gods, hence the Age of Gods is a long narrative!I didn't use TYPE-MOON in the title as it was already too large)

A city of academies where high school girls converse with swords and spears in hand.A comedy character who loves macarons and a cup of tea.Becoming a pink-haired dummy in a mobile game, acting as the weakest character with the pretty filter in my mouth and body.Yet in my heart, a man’s fighting spirit still boils like lava.“What a cutie. Ohoho☆”

“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.