COTE : Is Talent Everything? (Rewrite) - Chapter 34: Rumors

“Please sign a contract with me…” The cowardly and cute craftsman system thought that he had finally found the host in his mind: I don’t ask you to be ninety, sixty thousand years old, and an extra waste.
“But.” Qing Chuan, the seemingly gentle and amiable-looking new host, choked his fate while smiling, “I want to see the scenery at a high place, what’s the difference.”
A lonely, persistent, free and uninhibited soul, experiencing the ups and downs of life in different worlds, step by step out of the established destiny.
Life should be a carnival until death. Dreams are not dead, people are not dead.
And A and sassy bosses – daily soy sauce loyal dogs attack.
double C.
The presence of the attacking gentleman is slightly lower.

The first world: It looks like an ordinary ancient times, but it hides the setting of the martial arts world. I’m sorry, I just want to be an official. (Finish)
The Second World: Through the 1960s, the butcher is really busy and doesn’t look for a partner, thank you. (Finish)
The third world: overhead modern, I cut clothes and wear needles orchid fingers, but I am a straight man, probably. (Finish)
The fourth world: travel through the 1970s, taste the country food, enjoy the tranquility of the years, and the world is worth it. (Finish)
Fifth World: I have a small idea, others can carry a botanical garden, why can’t I carry a monster shelter? (Finish)
The sixth world: parallel modern, entertaining human beings during the day, entertaining ghosts at night, I have wine, do you have a story? (Finish)
The Seventh World: Future Interstellar, a strange family with abnormal ethics, and the little cabbage whose father does not love and does not love turn against the wind. (Finish)
The Eighth World: Parallel Space, quests, help players who have been swept away by high-risk games survive at least one existential crisis. (Finish)
The ninth world: Western fantasy world, the great elf lord, please make the cursed land a paradise of life again. (Finish)
The tenth world: modern entertainment, the value of a star is not only beautiful appearance and excellent talent, but also conveys correct values ​​to the society, please work hard and be fresh. (Finish)
The last world: The malice from the high-latitude civilization shrouded the world. In the deepest part of the devil’s lair, there is a treasure that their taskers want to snatch – the world tree. Let’s go, warriors! (Finish)
Extra World: Farming in the countryside and raising a cat. The most rare thing in life is that your family and friends are safe and healthy, and you are always happy. (while in progress)

Content tags: Farming text Food Fast wear Shuangwen
Search keywords: protagonist: Qingchuan ┃ supporting role: Wei Ge ┃ others: system, fast wear, food, age, life flow, farming culture, entertainment circle
One sentence introduction: Addicted to upgrade unintentional love

- Description from novelbuddy

I have a foster father…

Um, that’s not the important part. I just want to say, why doesn’t he understand the differences between boys and girls in this world? He insists a pornographic picture is actually a diagram of acupuncture points. And also…why did he raise me as a boy for 15 years?! It’s impressive that he can write prescriptions, but I studied poisons.

But, why is he a Fang Hua Beast…

Lin Fan was transported to another world, into the body of a normal disciple. Given the environment he was in, Lin Fan faced the risk of being killed at any time. However, something was out of place.

“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.