Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse - Chapter 162: Phillip, You Got This

After the college entrance examination, Zheng Qing did not go to the long-awaited Imperial Capital University. Instead, carrying his luggage and holding a fox, he followed a notice and broke into a strange university.

There are no mathematics, English, or ideological politics, but the philosophy of divination, astronomy, and magic.

The extracurricular activity here is the hunting of monsters, and the hobbies here are all sorts of strange.

Rafting to learn the sea, climbing the mountain of books.

This dazed young man stumbled and started his career as a wizard.

- Description from MTL

This was a world where technology and cultivation co-existed.

Lu Ping had been single his whole life. He didn’t have any cultivation resources and all girls hated him.

All he could do was dating a girl he had met online.

However, at his graduation, Lu Ping accidentally exposed his personal information to his girlfriend.

From that moment onwards, his life started to change strangely.

When the two had finally agreed to meet, the Nine Heaven Golden Phoenix suddenly appeared and covered the sun with its wings. Everyone thought that the world was about to end.

Lu Ping drew his sword, ready to defend his home.

“Honey! Stop! It’s me!” Feng Xiaoqi, the phoenix, pleaded.

Lu Ping looked at the phoenix in awe as he dropped his sword.

“We have Xu Xian in the past, and we have Lu Ping in the present! Long live humans!”

“I thought Xu Xian was already unbeatable, who knew Lu Ping was even stronger than him!”

“Lu Ping! You shouldn’t play with a girl’s feelings!”

“He’s right! You have to show her the fine tradition of us humans!”

“What do you need for your wedding gift? We humans can give you anything you wish for!”

Lu Ping looked at his fellow human, completely dumbfounded by the situation.

Urban love story. Chase them if you like them ah.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.