Outdoor Webcast - Chapter 542

Baifeng had signed in Naruto World for three years and reached the sixth level, just when he thought he could finally be salted fish, kick the dance king, and punch Kaguya.

Ding, you have been selected and invited by the Tiantian dimension chat group, do you want to join?

No, no, I’m already at level 6, so I just came to the chat group.

The beautiful monster princess: Although I lost a good chicken, the monster girl is really good.

Dagu is not Dagu: As a partner of justice, it is our duty to maintain the peace of the universe.

I’m your father: Kulala, I’ll show you a hand-torn black beard to cheer you up.

Bai Feng: This chat group is a bit indecent.

- Description from novelbuddy

“I turned into a young dragon and was captured and raised by an Evil Dragon. As we spent more time together, I noticed that the way the Evil Dragon looked at me started to become increasingly odd. It seemed... he was raising me as if I were his wife!” Princess Lucia, transformed into a young dragon, wrote down her discovery with trembling hands in her notebook.

Asura, a noble in the kingdom of Silvara, spent his days quietly until his world ended. Betrayed by his beloved wife and then killed, he swore to get revenge on them in his late moments. Upon death, Asura somehow returned 20 years into the past. Prepared to get revenge on the woman who betrayed him.On his journey for revenge, he discovers true love, friendship, and a life-altering truth.A dark cult controls his fate like a game—even his beloved's betrayal was their work. He learns about his powers and strange bloodlines. Then, about this being his ninth and final rebirth! All to revive their god, using Asura as the perfect vessel.Vowing to destroy the cult's plot and protect his loved ones, Asura forges an alternative path.Becoming the Devouring Monarch

“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.