Super Divine Daoist Skill - Chapter 227 - 226: Impact (Please Subscribe)

Are you looking for your Mr. Right?

Why would I wait for him? Mr. Right is lost on his way.

He quirked his brow at her answer with a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

Then what are you doing? He questioned in amusement.

She placed both her hands on his chest and pushed his masculine body against the wall taking him by surprise.

Her honey-brown eyes blinked at him with mischief dancing in them as she planted a firm kiss at his jaw and said, I'm planning on taking advantage of Mr. Right Now!

His eyes widened dramatically in disbelief. Before his eyes darkened with desire and passion.

He placed his hands on her small waist and she could feel the heat of his big hands through the flimsy fabric of her shirt.

His head leaned ahead as he whispered close to her ear, Feel free to take whatever you want.

She felt his hot tongue licking her earlobe making her heart to beat erratically.

Chen Xiu; known as Ms. Goody-two-shoes. A Superstar who was said to have it all which made her the center of hatred and envy as well.

Little did anyone knew that the same Superstar had to nurse her own wounds in the silence and darkness of night where no one was looking.

But for how long could she hold on for? Eventually, she decided to end her own misery and ended her life in the darkness of night, her only companion.

Having woken up in a new body and at a new place wasn't something she could ever believe in. At least, not until she became Bai Xiu out of the blue.

The day she thought to be her last became her first as a second chance awaited her. But whether this new chance was a blessing or disaster, it was hard to tell since she was trapped in a new body with a new life with the shackles of only her old memories.

New life or a new curse? What really awaited her? The same disappointing silence of the night or was there someone calling out her name desperately at the end of the tunnel? Were sparks meant to fly in her heart or the fire in her heart was meant to burn her whole? Was this leap of faith gonna make her fall on her face or was she meant to fly the horizon?

The new life brought a lot of questions. But the answer was simple...

You would never know until you give it a shot!

This book is fan fiction for the game “The Last of Us” and will include characters from other Apocalypse games. Currently joining: Game version of The Walking Dead, Metro Exodus.

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.

“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.