Rise of the Cosmic_Emperor - Chapter 770 I Made This All Possible.

Lu Sheng, who transmigrates to the Star Sea Era, unexpectedly acquires an attribute panel capable of solidifying every single advancement he makes.In this perilous world filled with alien gods, immortals, Mechanical Ascenders, and more, Lu Sheng relies on himself to progress from mortal flesh to the singular True Self.Years later...Lu Sheng flying across the universe, gazes upon the endless darkness at the edge of the cosmos, where a colossal being as vast as the Milky Way Galaxy—once recorded in mythologies of Blue Star—resides.He speaks faintly, “You might be the most formidable Galactic Life Form I’ve ever encountered. Calling you a god wouldn’t be unjustified.”“Yet it’s a pity, for I have already established the foundation of the Great Dao and forged the singular True Self. Henceforth... you may call me the Martial God!”

When Naruto was young, he could see several big faces on Hokage Rock directly when he opened his eyes every morning. The window of Uchiha Xinxuan’s house will first see the Police Department Building, as for Hokage Rock, only a silhouette can be seen.

I dare not think about it, but it should also try to climb to a higher position to see the scenery.

PS: In terms of the original plot and settings, all the comics are used (excluding Boren Biography, Itachi True Biography, TV and theatrical versions), mainly because there is only one set of comics at hand.

- Description from novelbuddy

Growing up in the slums, deprived of freedom, being enslaved by his parents and thugs, all Lucifer wanted was a life of freedom, a life that he could do whaver he wanted, not being ordered by anyone.And then luck came to Lucifer when he awakened the system, and even luckier was that he was able to raise his Destiny Rank to Unpredictable.But in return...he was turned into Freedom's Most Loyal Slave

“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.