I Have Seven Big Brothers - Chapter 471: philanthropy of the little rich woman

[Harem + Light System + Mystery + Eerie world]After being transported to an unknown realm, Huang Ye unexpectedly obtained a martial arts manual—the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra, a technique meant for women.With no other choice, he followed the concept of opposing yin and yang, practicing the technique in reverse.By accident, he mastered a form of Dual Cultivation. From then on…

This was the great era of vast warships and the Star River, a time when the multi-universe was shattered and countless Cosmic Fragments were scattered across the void, forming the boundless Shattered Starry Sea.Immortal Domain Dao soldiers, mechanical gods, golden giants, wizard Dominators…An endless array of strange civilizations.Starry Sea Oddity, Genetic Potions, exoskeletal armors, Floating Land Origin…Treasures that could be found everywhere.Spectral Shuttle, Spectral Airship, Spectral Warship, Escort Ships, Battleships, Star-Annihilating Starships, hyperdimensional mother ships…The clearly stratified Xinhuo warships.Song Chi held a Zhu Tian Ruins Market in his hand and engaged in interstellar trade with the countless peoples of the Starry Sea.What? Titanium Crystals are worthless in your Star Domain? I’ll take them all, damn it, this is a strategic resource!You call this a chunk of iron? This is Mixed Elemental Copper, the ultimate Enhancement resource!Ordinary ship cannon? Isn’t this a golden Star-Annihilating Cannon? Quick… I’ll buy it!…Stretching across the stars, starting from the flame of human civilization.

Xuan Qing discovered a cultivation game on his phone that couldn't be uninstalled. When he clicked on it out of curiosity, he was astonished to find that the treasures and cultivation of characters in the game could be brought back to the real world.

PS: The male lead is the only extraordinary person on Earth, without brainless show-off and face-slapping plots.

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“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.