The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower - Chapter 129

Hakuto's life changes forever when his father Shin— a man with highly questionable morals—marries Kagura Kurotsuki, the CEO of a multinational company, and they move into her luxurious mansion.There, he meets the alluring daughters of his new stepmother: the seductive Yuzu—who doesn't hesitate to tease both her new stepbrother and her stepfather in ways that are... rather bold—and Rika, more introverted and irritable, yet just as sensual.But nothing is truly as it seems...Kagura is a succubus, but Rika and Yuzu are different.They were born from a demon and a vampire—something that shouldn’t be exsiste.Because of that, demons, vampires, even humans want them.But Hakuto won’t allow it.He’ll never let anyone hurt his beloved stepsisters.

When he woke up, Zhou Sui became a low-level Qi refiner in the world of immortality. Fortunately, he obtained the most precious Gu god bowl, which can refine various Gu insects.

Refining the Spring and Autumn Gu can prolong life and make you immortal.

The refining golden cicada Gu can give birth to dead people, flesh and white bones.

Refining the Dragon Elephant Gu to gain the power of the Dragon Elephant, the body of the Dragon Elephant, and the indestructibility of the King Kong

But the Gu he refined for the first time was the Infatuation Gu.

From then on, he discovered a bright road to cultivation.

The years change, the mountains and rivers change, but I am the eternal Zhou family.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

Within the red tent, under the passionate eyes of the man on top, she was forced to make love and three thousand black strands turned to white.