Love Slave to My Devil CEO Boss R18 - Chapter 348 Promising Start

In the vast and grand universe, myriad treasures and artifacts existed, some crafted by the Grand Dao of the universe itself, while countless others paled in comparison to the might of those created by the Grand Dao.Yet, amidst the cosmic expanse, one individual achieved the extraordinary feat of fashioning a treasure on par with those birthed by the Grand Dao.This creator wasn't mortal, nor an immortal cultivator who had ascended to the pinnacle of power.Neither inherently good nor bad, this enigmatic figure stood as the genesis of countless races—a shattered being unlike any ever witnessed.Known by many names, the most prominent being the 'Son of the Universe'.Born directly from the Grand Dao of the universe, he was not the first entity to be brought forth in such a manner.The universe had previously given rise to beings governed by the System of Reality—known by various titles such as Heavenly Daos or World Trees—acting as gods of creation for innumerable planets across the universe.These divine entities, also referred to as the 'Daughters of the Universe', were exclusively female, with no sons among them.However, the Grand Dao of the universe defied this established norm, birthing a Son and thereby breaking the rules of the System of Reality.The treasure forged by the 'Son of the Universe' was lost to time, only to reappear fortuitously in an alley on a fateful night.On that particular night, a young man named Sam Hailstorm stumbled upon this extraordinary artifact, forever altering the course of his life.As for why the Grand Dao birthed such an unimaginable being, why this treasure found its way to Sam, and the purpose behind the Son of the Universe creating such a powerful artifact, join Sam on his journey of discovery as he unravels the truths and destinies that lie ahead.

Target Audience: This book is for those who had enough of MCs getting bullied and those who enjoyed progression. I’ll now apologize if I miss something and MC didn’t act according to your likings, I’ll adjust and improve so let’s get addicted to it! SSS rank talent? I can get 10,000 xp multiplier and convert them to upgrade my skills? Proficiency? Item Quality? Top ranker? Beat them up! Arrogant villains? Slap them to death! My Little Sister getting bullied in school? Destroy the school! In my eyes, you are just experience points to farm! Let’s farm experience points!

This is the story of a crazy lich who possesses an internal game system and brings catastrophe to the entire world.

“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.