Naked Sword Art - Chapter 383: Final Test

My name is Chen Huaian, and I’m dying of cancer.In my final days, I became obsessed with a game where you raise a virtual girlfriend.I spent all my savings buying her cultivation manuals and magical artifacts. Though my wallet was empty, I smiled like never before.I always thought it was just a game—until one day, my virtual girlfriend sent me a mystical pill.The next second, the pill materialized in my hand.I… might not have to die after all?——————————————————My name is Li Qingran. I was stripped of my cultivation, had my spiritual roots torn out, and was exiled from my sect, left to die in a broken-down hut.Just as I thought my life was over, I encountered a mysterious benefactor who never showed their face.This enigmatic figure healed my wounds, guided my cultivation, and helped me grow stronger until I became the most powerful sword cultivator in the Cangyun Realm.But the Cangyun Realm is on the brink of collapse. Spiritual energy is drying up, and the path to immortality is fading. Rumors spread that a mighty immortal from the Celestial Realm plans to merge our world with another on the verge of a spiritual resurgence.A great era of chaos is coming.And even immortals may fall.Desperate to find my benefactor, I scour the world for their traces.I will protect them—and become their eternal partner in the Dao!

“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.

One day, Song Shuhang was suddenly added to a chat group with many seniors that suffered from chuuni disease. The people inside the group would call each other ‘Fellow Daoist’ and had all different kinds of titles: Palace Master, Cave Lord, True Monarch, Immortal Master, etc. And even the pet of the founder of the group that had run away from home was called ‘monster dog’. They would talk all day about pill refining, exploring ancient ruins, or share their experience on techniques.

However, after lurking inside the group for a while, he discovered that not all was what it seemed…

Why, seems like I’ve become a haunted portrait.