Rebirth in the 60s: A Path to Counterattack - Chapter 46 - 0. The Lian family’s attitude, Lianshan’s speed

Xingyi Fist Grandmaster Xiao Yi's soul transmigrated to another world.In this world dominated by Martial Artists, Xiao Yi obtained a Martial Soul that defied the Heavens, embarking on a journey to crush countless contemporary talents and achieve the status of Soul Emperor and Martial God.Shattering Heaven and Earth, breaking through the vault of heaven, he reigned supreme over All Heavens and Myriads of Worlds.

Tang Zhou dreamed that he was cannon fodder in a novel.

Because of prejudice, he misunderstood and hurt the villain, and later was framed by his illegitimate younger brother and became impoverished.

After waking up from his dream, he looked at the innocent and harmless young villain in front of him and decided to change his own ending.

*

Fu Shen knew about his past long ago and had been plotting for many years for this reason.

He agreed to Tang Zhou’s harsh demands, pretended to be harmless, and in silence kept a low profile.

The original plan was to turn around and leave naturally after the deed was done.

But unexpectedly, after one night, this person seemed to have changed.

Peeled off the coat of indifference, there was actually a piece of small sugar cake inside.

Fu Shen was born with a sweet tooth, and after having a taste, he couldn’t let go.

- Description from Novelupdates

A cultivator with normal aptitude finally found a treasure that could change his life but to his disappointment, he could not directly benefit from it.Author's Note: The MC is not smart and serious. He is goofy most of the time. This is a harem story. Leyvi will have many women. Thank you for reading and supporting me.Warning: My grammar is shit. Proceed with caution.

“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.