Xianxia: Why am I here? - Chapter 254 - 254 Fighting myself

Asher, after trillions of years of cultivation from an ordinary human in a small world, he managed to transcend universes with countless galaxies, then transcended the Great Universe with countless universes and then reached the peak in the Infinite Void, becoming one of the most feared experts.How was his life as a peak cultivator often the end of a story?Follow his journey as he explores the Infinite Void and helps countless geniuses in the Great Universes.***(Everything written in this novel is fiction!)

Every author loves their story.Sure, you may get tired of writing it after quite a while, but even so; it was a novel you enjoyed writing before, no?The words you put consideration to, the effort you did research overnight.The thrill to have a reader, the thought of someone enjoyed your work.All of it was something you used to cherish, but you may end up forgetting the joy over small things one day as you move on.Everyone loves their work.But some forget they did.

“Second Master, Madam said that there is no money.”

“Hurry up and give her 200 million pocket money.”

“Second Master, Madam has been hidden by the brokerage company.”

“Buy the company and make her the boss.”

“Second Master, the doctor said that the child in Madam’s womb is not yours.”

“…Quack doctor! Get another doctor.”

In the previous life, Li Beibei was ruined by a scumbag and a bitch, and she was reborn with one trick, but she became the favorite of the top boss Fu Erye.

She abused the scum, the second master handed her a knife, she set fire, and the second master added firewood to her.

She turned the entertainment industry upside down, and the second master’s words “I’m used to it” made countless jealous people shudder. ——-Everyone in Yuncheng knows that the decisive and fearful Fu Erye has only one weakness. It was his little ancestor Li Beibei who had made a baby kiss with him. Even if her little ancestor wanted to ride on his head, he would bend down for fear that she would not be able to climb up.

Not only that, but in the eyes of outsiders, a man who is as perfect as a god is always rejected by his little ancestors, who think he is old, too rich, always step on the left foot first when entering the door, and even think that the moon on the roof of his house is not round enough.

Everyone couldn’t stand it anymore: “Second Master, your little ancestor is spoiled by you!”

Second Master Fu: “I am willing, who has any objections?” My little ancestor would have to get used to kneeling for a lifetime. ———I like you, serious and cowardly, from one end to the end——Fu Jingmo

- 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.