As A Trash Collector, I Collected A Imperial Jade Seal - Chapter 815 - Staring at the Sword in His Hand

n the era of global evolution, humans and monsters coexist, and evolution is the only theme!

Chu Zhou traveled to this world. At the age of 17, he awakened the attribute panel!

Breathing method, combat skills, talents, you can upgrade with points!

Basic breathing method, upgrade 10,000 layers, and become black hole breathing method!

D-level combat skills, upgrade 10,000 layers, and become SSS-level magic skills!

Ordinary talents, upgrade 10,000 layers, and become true god talents!

…

Several years later, Chu Zhou stood on the top of the cosmic pyramid, facing many cosmic overlords, cosmic true gods, and cosmic sages, and summed up his life: Everything I have today is due to my hard work…Deep blue, add points!

Qi Le – gender: male, sexual interest: women – suffered from congenital heart disease and died early. However, God played a small trick on him and placed his soul inside the body of a trashy shou.

The World Tower has unimaginable wealth and treasures. Once a week, as long as you rush high enough, you can surpass ordinary people and enjoy a brilliant and glorious life.

A thousand floors are capped, and some people say that reaching the thousand floors can get the wealth of the whole world; some people say that above the thousand floors is a beautiful new world or even heaven; some people say that they can obtain the power of gods;

Unfortunately, no one has reached the summit for thousands of years.

The strongest team in the world rushed to the 929th floor, which was unprecedented, and was still destroyed.

Wang Wen survived.

Time went back to twenty years ago.

Reborn with all the emotions and experiences, the lush Wang Wen in front of the World Tower is calm and determined.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.