Master Of Martial Arts Has An Advanced Optical Brain - Chapter 63 - Where Is the Real Weakness?

A suffering MC novel—the main character must be forced to suffer, be oppressed until they’re hovering between life and death, dying and living here and there. They can have a golden finger, but before getting it they must pay the price. They can also have beautiful women, but all are snake and scorpion beauties, able to look at but not eat.

Qin Huai has traveled to a fantasy world where demons are rampant, and heroes coexist. He has no background and no qualifications for cultivation. Until that day he became an apprentice in a pharmacy and began to practice with his brothers.

He discovered that experience balls fell out of his master and senior brothers.

He followed the apprentice to grind the medicine.

“Ding! 【Pharmacy】experience value +3!”

Master and brothers practice martial arts.

“Ding! You picked up a [Nursing Qi Gong Essence (White)], [Nursing Qi Gong] experience value +3!”

He killed the bandits, and actually picked up the opponent’s martial arts.

“Ding! 【Expression Concentration Skill】experience value +13!”

The master said that Qigong is not good at attacking and attacking, there is an upper limit of practice, and it can only prolong life.

But when Qin Huai picked up his experience and forcibly picked up Qi Yang Gong to the 50th floor, the qi in his body was like a real dragon, his pushing hands were like a stormy wave, and his offense and defense were integrated.

People in the world say that the two kinds of exercises are in conflict, and if you practice them forcibly, you will explode and die.

Qin Huai picked up the experience and directly skipped the practice process in one step, without any side effects!

When Qin Huai practiced more and more exercises, he suddenly discovered that those exercises interacted in his body, evolving stronger skills.

…

Qin Huai, who was able to gain experience, began to wander among the various forces.

He saw bones and raw flesh, living another life.

He saw the evil spirit cooking thousands of people, and his evil spirit was soaring.

He saw Buddha statues chanting scriptures in temples, and the Sanskrit sounds were like mantras.

Qin Huai picked up experience silently in order to survive in the troubled times.

- Description from novelbuddy

Thirty years ago, a meteor fell and the divine ruins appeared! Some deities emerged from it, feeding on humans. Since that day, humans have become food for the deities, except for me!Because I feed on the deities.

“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.