Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 845 - Devouring the Malevolent Tree

This is a world shrouded in darkness, and the pervasive black mist erodes all living beings.

Only fire can dispel the darkness and protect mankind.

But the firewood will eventually run out, the fire will eventually go out, and humanity will eventually perish.

until Rhodes came.

- Description from novelbuddy

The Night Killer was a notorious serial killer with an indestructible reputation transcending across all nations, targeting corrupted nobles and their subordinates. His resilient ambitions to exterminate the monarchy and destabilize the relations between the nobility and its monarch made him do unspeakable things, going as far as to bed the Queen with the aim of controlling the royal court.

Due to his 'carelessness', he was ultimately arrested and brought to kneel among the people, ending his bloody reign of terror.

Having foreseen his inevitable doom, he had made preparations in advance. He had ordered his closest companion to end his life on the day of his execution.

Having been reborn into the body of Ren Ye, he was met with the presence of an adorable little girl in his life, calling out Papa whenever she sees him and giving kisses on his cheeks.

Likewise, a system was awakened inside of him, and evil transmigrators ascended on Earth, threatening the safety of him and his beloved.

Follow along his journey from a callous and ruthless murderer to becoming a warm and loving father to his daughter, while fighting off evil forces and keeping Earth a peaceful place for his family to live.

“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.