The Genesis Of A Necromancer - Chapter 169: A king’s responsibility

Meet Damon CrossAs a child, Damon Cross had to deal with the horrible realities of domestic violence and being homeless.He and his mother, who had always been there for him, struggled to find security.After losing his first backyard fight, When Damon gets a new MMA system, his luck changes dramatically.This mysterious system becomes his guide, improving his skills and raising him into the world of mixed martial arts.He learns more about mixed martial arts and gets better at it with the help of this system.With this renewed strength, Damon is determined to not only move up in the fight world, but also make a better future for both of them as a way to repay his mother for what she did.[YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE EMMAC SYSTEM][CONGRATULATIONS TO HOST FOR BECOMING A DOUBLE CHAMP]witness how Damon goes from a Bum to a Champ.Romance: YesFights: Yes

Yang Qing sighed as he gazed upon the black building that stood tall piercing the skies above with an inviolable aura around it.

“The Order sure is black-hearted,” he angrily thought as he made his way into the building begrudgingly.

The building could be considered his home away from home and a source of endless grief for him due to its unforgiving working hours.

The building housed the courtrooms of the Cultivation Order Society, an organization founded to maintain a semblance of order in the ruthless cultivation world of the southern continent who if left to their own devices would sink the whole continent to the ground.

Due to how impetuous cultivators were, the cases never stop.

“Yi Jie, what do we have today?”

“Two cultivators at the palace realm fought over a treasure and destroyed half of the territory of the blue deer kingdom in their fight,

A rogue cultivator is suing the owner of the falling meteor blacksmith shop for selling him a faulty saber that keeps attracting lightning tribulations.

A cultivator suffering from pill poisoning is blaming it on the white hilltop restaurant as he suspects they are feeding their spirit beasts pills to make them bigger and fatter.

And the last case is 500 families are suing a cultivator by the name of Ren Fu for being negligent as a husband and a father whilst also pilfering their resources dry as he moves from place to place.,”

Awkward silence ensues...........

Join me as we follow Yang Qing in his role as a judge in the Cultivation Order Society with cases and troubles that never seem to end.

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After a mortal accident left him dead, the soul of Wang Wei was sent into the sacred body of an unborn child in an ancient world of cultivation where only the strongest survives.

Along with the ancient soul of an immortal taoist, follow Wang Wei from a small clan as he strives to carve a name for his clan and 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.