Return of the Frozen Player - Chapter 356: The Conquest Bible (3)

On the Star Network there is a gourmet food broadcast, where all you can see are a pair of hands. However each dish that this broadcast comes out with is earthshakingly delicious. What’s more, the broadcast anchor’s voice is simply perfect!

With the broadcast’s rising popularity, several food programs extended him an olive branch. When the anchor appeared on screen, as they suspected, he is handsome enough to incur the wrath of both men and gods! The fans licked their screens with increasing frenzy, but after licking a while, they discovered…

Fans:…Wait a minute, isn’t this our fatally-ill idol who hasn’t long to live?

Small Gong: Take these damned nutrient solutions and throw them away! And get me that broadcast anchor!

- Description from Novelupdates

In a humble village untouched by ambition, ​Hua Jin lives an idyllic life as the adored daughter of a farming family—a rarity in an era where sons reign supreme. Content with her simple joys and doting kin, she dreams only of peace… until the skies turn vengeful.But Hua Jin has a secret: a mystical space brimming with untold resources. While others scramble when droughts scorch crops, floods drown kingdoms, and plagues darken horizons, she smirks. “We’ve got this.”Yet survival isn’t just about hoarding grain. With her family’s unwavering love as her shield, Hua Jin masterminds a laid-back revolution: turning their farm into a fortress, bartering wit for wealth, and outsmarting fate itself. Who needs panic when you’ve got a lazy genius with infinite storage and a clan that laughs in the face of doom?

Masaru Ryunosuke is an outcast—a scholarship student in a school of elites, struggling to keep his head down in a world that looks down on him. But when a chance encounter with a vampire attack leaves him at death’s door, he wakes up to a new reality—he's no longer human.Now a ghoul, the lowest rank of undead, Masaru finds himself thrown into a world of ancient bloodlines, deadly supernatural creatures, and secret organizations hunting beings like him. His only guide? Akane Mikazuki, the cold and ruthless noble vampire who saved him, but only for her own mysterious reasons.Armed with the Cape of Dracula, an artifact of legendary power, and an unnatural potential that defies vampire logic, Masaru refuses to accept his fate as a weakling. If the world wants to treat him like a mere undead—then he’ll rise above them all and prove them wrong.As battles erupt between vampires, werewolves, assassins, and monstrous beings, Masaru must claw his way up the supernatural hierarchy before he’s devoured by forces beyond his comprehension. Because in this world, the weak exist only to be devoured.But what happens… when an undead refuses to stay at the bottom?

“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.