The Villain Only Wants To Live a Buddhist Life - Chapter 255: Espeon’s Infinite Potential (2 in 1)

A relaxing story of a business tycoon who, sick of machinations and struggle, returned to the medieval world and married into a merchant family to become a “zhui xu,” a husband that lives in the wife’s home. Even though his intentions were not so, he could not avoid the matters of family, country and world.

“There was once a person that stood at the top of the golden pyramid,

with the innumerable cheap jealousy and envy of people,

he walked this road escorted by tens of thousands of people,

yet he could not escape the long and lonely sleep under the gravestone. ”

- Description from Novelupdates

A magical 'Universal Toolbox' led Joe Ga into the arms industry.The complex and unpredictable nature of the world caused Joe Ga to gradually change his goals...“Sir, how did you end up here?”“I don't know, I just wanted to make some money at first, buy a house, marry a wife. But slowly, as more and more people appeared around me, my goals started to change.”“So what are your goals now?”“Now, I just want to retire peacefully with my guys, really!”

A boy born with the potential, so great that it threatend the world's powerhouses itself._____Born amidst chaos and tragedy, Azhrael, the son of the legendary Frost King and Celestial Witch, carries a burden no child should bear. Half of his soul was dormant into another world, while the other half was left sealed, hidden from the prying eyes of those who sought to destroy him.He was a child of immense potential—his very existence threatened gods and shook the balance of power in the world.However in the main story, Azhrael was only an “extra.” A mysterious beautiful boy with snow-white hair and dull grey eyes who exists in the shadow of others, bullied and beaten, unaware of the legacy he carries.That Is Until.

“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.