Princess's Struggle for Survival - Chapter 66: Battle in Underground Dungeon (2)

When I woke up, I found myself inside a spaceship.

I guess you guys think I’m talking nonsense here, but I also have absolutely no clue about what exactly happened to me.

I was really close to completely losing it, but fortunately, I managed to notice that this place was really similar to the world featured in a game I was playing recently.

Am I dreaming? Nope, it’s no dream. Maybe I actually got sent to a different world or something?

But didn’t those things usually involve getting sent to a magical world with elves, dwarves, dragons and whatnot?

In any case, I don’t know what caused this, but I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and live properly in this world from now on.

It’ll be okay. I got my trusty spaceship so I can probably make some money. It’ll work out! It has to!

This is the story of a man abruptly thrown into space along with his private spaceship. He runs around with it and saves damsels in distress along the way, flirts with said damsels, earns money as a merc-for-hire and uses his gaming knowledge to work his way into living freely and easily.

Transmigrated from the Blue Planet, Li Pin, once an ordinary university student, found himself thrust into a world of ferocious beasts and demonic creatures. Haunted by the loss of his parents to illness in his previous life, he yearned to understand the fragility and potential of human life.In a realm dominated by Astral Cultivators, Li Pin’s determination to push the boundaries of human potential was unwavering. Driven by the question, “What are the true limits of the human body?” he embarked on a perilous journey into the world of martial arts.Would he ascend to the pinnacle of power, unravel the mysteries of the human body, and truly comprehend the essence of martial arts?

Gods and demons are everywhere in the Grand Desolate World.

“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.