Legend of Swordsman - Chapter 4897 - Destroying the Immortal Array Formation

Rong Qingyan is a 21st century successor of a medicinal family, proficent in medical knowledge. But in the end, she has died in the hands of her relatives. Murong Qingyan is Sheng Hong Continent’s Murong family’s legitimate miss. But even though she is a legitimate daughter, she is the Murong family’s shame because her appearance is ugly and her meridians are blocked, making her a trash that cannot cultivate.

After she transmigrated, she became her.

When she reopened her eyes, the originally unable to cultivate trash let everyone stumble in shock. Flipping over clouds, going against the heavens and changing fate, letting those that originally looked down on her regret it deeply.

Contracting magical beasts, concocting immortal pills. Meeting gods, killing gods; meeting Buddhas, killing Buddhas; swearing to let all those that looked down on her see her in a new light.

When the trash turned into a universally shocking prodigy, when the ugly appearance was shed off, she was no longer the original her. In the whole course of events, whose heart did she actually steal?

Her ex fiancé regretted it deeply, but to no avail. The family that looked down on her is now immensly remorseful, yet they can’t change anything anymore.

When she stood at the peak of the world, he was always by her side protecting and guarding her, letting her be able to freely soar in the sky.

He said: “In my life, I wish for nothing else. I only wish to love you forever.”

She said: ”If it is what you desire.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Cassian Ven Dyke, the bastard son of a powerful ducal family, grew up in the slums of Veldora under the care of his father figure, sword master Russel. When Russel passed away, Cassian was left with only a silver necklace as his inheritance. After putting it on, Cassian was attacked by three psychotic thugs who tortured him in an attempt to steal the necklace. Refusing to give in, Cassian was ultimately stabbed through the heart with the very same necklace. Instead of dying, he mysteriously vanished as the necklace lodged itself in his heart. Just before disappearing, he heard an eerie message echo in his mind:[True mana detected. Origin: Human...][Human detected. Compatibility with system: Confirmed.]

I, Fang Cheng, an Immortal.Although I had developed many hit games, there was one question I never quite figured out.Games, why are you fun?

“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.