The Heir is Here: Quiet Down, School Prince! - Chapter 1043 - From the First Look Until the Last (6)

A hundred years ago, the blue star world fell into an endless abyss, and the era of abyss lords for all began.

Become the lord of the abyss, expand the territory, and resist the invasion of the abyss. The lord is hope, and the lord is destiny!

A hundred years later, a boy who has obtained a soul-entry talent, a treasure chest, a resource crystal, and a summoning scroll, will be perfect after ten consecutive draws? Hundred consecutive draws will produce legends?

What are you waiting for?

Wu Feng, who became the will of the abyss, was interviewed: “I really just didn’t want to lose my status as a lord, so you believe me!”

When you gaze into the abyss, I am the abyss!

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Readership: 892119197.

- Description from novelbuddy

She – a glutton without troubles or worries who crossed over and became a young fat chick with a deep vengefulness.

He – a young master of the number one power; a two-faced man with elegance and charming, good looks; he is the chosen one of the former saint god and a man who will only bend his back for her alone.

This domineering crossover’s slogan is, ‘Don’t touch if it is this sister’s, put it there even if it isn’t this sister’s!’

…watch how the Domineering Glutton and the Two-Faced Venerate Emperor create sparks as they meet and collide, stirring the whole Spirit Treasure Continent into turmoil, how they fall for each other and how they kill each other, how life and death sever love.

One scam package,That's all it took to drag the 17-year-old Cail into the world of the void....He thought he had ordered a limited-edition sneakers. But what came was a shady-looking package on his front gate. It smelled like rotten egg and sulfur. Inside the package was a strange box.It's filled with eccentric junk. They looked very intricate and mysterious. He thought, “I probably got someone else's package, a package from someone that was very interested in mysticism.”An old coin, a cracked compass, a ring with an ugly center stone, and some other weird looking trinkets.So he did what any broke student would do:He sold it. He figured someone might want them for cosplay or something. Well, except the gold-rimmed glasses that seemed to fit him very well.“Damn, I paid 7,000 nu for that sneaker; I better get something out from this scam package.”Then all hell broke loose. Strange people started approaching him.People brought that junk. Very strange people wearing suspicious get up trying to buy those stuff in the sketchiest manner possible.As he kept selling, he realized that the box was refilling, it seemed to have an endless supply of those strange stuff. Those people called it 'artifacts'.Then one day he woke up with a strange tattoo on his arm; inside the tattoo was an independent space containing the box. It is basically inseparable from him.“I didn't ask for any of this to happen. But now, strange people come to me with desperate offers. Money, memories, and even soul.”He's just trying to survive high school while earning some money!He had no idea what was going on, but apparently, this thing that he got? It's not just an artifact. It's a contract.As Cail navagates school life, part-time jobs, and otherworldly clients, he starts asking the real question:When did I become an artifact dealer?!By day, he is just an ordinary student, a NPC character.And by night? He is The Dealer. Selling ancient items and dealing with people that he probably shouldn't be talking to.“Since I'm already in this mess, might as well profit off of it.”

“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.