Crossdressing To Survive An Apocalypse - Chapter 372 - The Miracle Lotus

In a humble village untouched by ambition, ​Hua Jin lives an idyllic life as the adored daughter of a farming family—a rarity in an era where sons reign supreme. Content with her simple joys and doting kin, she dreams only of peace… until the skies turn vengeful.But Hua Jin has a secret: a mystical space brimming with untold resources. While others scramble when droughts scorch crops, floods drown kingdoms, and plagues darken horizons, she smirks. “We’ve got this.”Yet survival isn’t just about hoarding grain. With her family’s unwavering love as her shield, Hua Jin masterminds a laid-back revolution: turning their farm into a fortress, bartering wit for wealth, and outsmarting fate itself. Who needs panic when you’ve got a lazy genius with infinite storage and a clan that laughs in the face of doom?

Upon opening his eyes, Muyang realized that he found himself in Dragon Ball’s world filled with dangerous people like Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Majin Buu.

“I have a home to go back to.”

Mori Tenko is the self-proclaimed ace of the going-home club. He tries to set a new record on his usual route home from school, but gets hit by a truck when he tries to save a strange puppy.

Then he’s picked up by a fat old man who calls himself a god, and is sent to a different world called Veriathes, where swords, magic, and skills rule the world, and where he is told to live out his life cheerfully and happily.

As soon as he arrives there, Norimi is subjected to a harsh baptism. Realizing that the world is not easy, he throws himself into battle, training himself to survive and protect his place in the world.

This is the story of a young man who later became known as the Lord of the Deep Temple and shook the world.

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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.