The End Of The World’s Poisonous Mom And Monster Baby - Volume 3 Chapter 65 Savage enough

Dong Xi transmigrated, but she was neither the female lead nor the villainess, but a tragic side character in a book. Even though she was a proper rich daughter, her mother used her as a substitute for her youngest sister, and sent her to train as a cultivator at the top cultivator sect in the world. Though she was initiated at eight years old and trained for eight years, she was talentless and didn’t have much experience. Eventually, her younger sister was recruited because of her outstanding talent, while Dong Xi was banished after it was revealed that she was just a substitute.

After that, someone caught her, imprisoned her, and tormented her for two years just because she was attractive. Though she was rescued by a senior disciple from the cultivator sect, it turned out that he did it to avenge her younger sister, and tortured her to death. When Dong Xi transmigrated, it was just after she was initiated and began life as a cultivator. She decided that she would do her best, improve her cultivation, and survive! Eating? Sleeping? All that was a waste of time! If there was a cultivator who practiced sword cultivation a thousand times per day, she would do two thousand!

Eight years later, when her younger sister was recruited for her talent, Dong Xi promptly packed her bags and left, leaving the cultivator sect panicking and wondering who had taken her away! Su Cheng, the most powerful demon lord: Who dares harm my beloved wife?! This means war! Dong Xi, still running away: What? Who are you? Su Cheng: Don’t you remember the snake you counted stars with years ago, beloved?

Hiro transmigrates and finds himself in the body of an orphan that’s about to be evicted from his orphanage. It wasn’t anything personal, but the orphanage’s policy doesn’t accommodate children who have reached the age of 16.From the gates of that humble establishment, Hiro slowly explores the facets of this world that was both familiar and unfamiliar due to its uncanny resemblance to his previous world—Earth.With his Daily Life RPG System urging him to excel in every aspect of his daily life, Hiro marks his presence in both the mundane and mystical circles of this new world.

“Screw magic, I want to learn how to do cool flips and stuff.”

Magic is awesome, until you've studied it for centuries.

Doevm reincarnates into a human to experience the path of a fighter to its fullest and swears not to rely on magic.

There is only one problem, a goddess stands in his way.

She pits him against both the hero and the villain for all of eternity.

How will he escape this, with magic or his fists? Maybe both?

“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.