I’m Cultivating Immortality While Everyone Else Practices Martial Arts - Chapter 355 - Killed

Beautiful doctor of Chinese medicine, Yu Gangan woke up from a coma one day to a cold, mysterious man. “Excuse me, you are…?”

A young boy, Asuma Haruto, is transferred to another world. Without having any means to return home, he has no choice but to live in this parallel universe.

Armed with only his knowledge of making soap, will Haruto be able to safely make a living here?

This is a story about how our protagonist creates his own business out of his hobby of making soap and then gradually manages his business and gets rich.

Things were going great for the demon Bael-Sharoth until a little girl summoned him to open a jar of tomato sauce. Now he's trapped in the human world along with his arch nemesis the beautiful and capable Maharet Flameheart. Life isn't easy for a demon in a small town. But at least the parks are hellhound friendly and the werewolf at the local bookshop seems nice enough. Bael and Maharet must find a loving human family to take in this powerful young witch before time runs out or risk being stuck on earth forever.What to expect: A cozy found family romantic comedy in the style of Good Omens and On a Pale Horse.Gruesomely Wholesome. Enemies to Lovers. Strong Male and Female Characters. Loyal Hellhounds. Sassy Hellcats. A happy ending.

“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.