Seventeen Again: The Sweet Life with My Family - Chapter 4

Reborn into a failing noble family, Liu Xingchang awakens in a weakened teenage body, surrounded by humiliation and betrayal. Once the revered Sword God of the Northern Polar Heaven Domain, he now faces ridicule from his former lover, Yu Qiuer, who has abandoned him for a rival, and scorn from the very man daring to tread on his legacy.Though his power has diminished to a mere third-grade cultivation, Liu’s indomitable spirit drives him to reclaim his path to supremacy. When he fatally strikes his foe amidst the disbelieving crowd, even the noble Princess Qingyuan is drawn to this fallen “”coward’s”” defiant strength.Can Liu Xingchang resurrect his family’s honor, ascend to the Divine Realm, and turn the tables on those who scorned him?

Fate had never been kind to Ji Ning. Wracked by illnesses and infirm his entire life on Earth, Ji Ning knew early on that he would die as a teenager. What he didn’t know was that there really was such a thing as life after death and that the multiverse was a far larger place than he thought.

A lucky twist of fate meant that Ji Ning was reborn into a world of Immortals and monsters, of Ki Refiners and powerful Fiendgods, a world where Dynasties lasted for millions of years. A world which is both greater… and yet also smaller… than he ever could imagine. He would have the opportunity to join them, and in this life, Ji Ning swore to himself, he would never let himself be weak again! The Era he was born into was a Desolate one, but Ji Ning would make it his era.

“Welcome to the Cosmos of Madness!”

Said a man with long red hair and piercing golden eyes as he descended from the stars.

“You have been chosen for a great purpose! Task! Mission! Destiny!”

He shouted dramatically as countless worlds heard his every word, from the lowest peasants to the mighty entities in the lofty palaces in the Higher Dimension.

“All of you accept your destiny as a sacrifice to Daemon Sultan, Blind Idiot God, Primordial Demiurge, Azathoth!”

And then Apocalypse descended.

***

Follow the journey of self-named Samiel Zentaur, a half-mad worshipper of the Outer Gods, on the Path of Transcendence and in his path to find himself.

“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.