I'm The Devil - Chapter 278 : Going Back to God Plane

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates

Betrayed. Starved. Left to die alone in a world that chewed up the weak and spat them out.Gu Qingran trusted the wrong people, loved the wrong man, and paid the ultimate price.But fate? Fate gave her a second chance.Reborn 30 days before the apocalypse, she refuses to be the naive fool she once was. This time, there are no attachments, no kindness—only power.With the Omni-Alchemist System, she can create weapons deadlier than an arsenal, fortresses stronger than steel, and medicines that could cure or kill with a single drop.While the world slept, she stockpiled.While they wasted time..she built an empire. When the world burned, she rose from the ashes—untouchable, unstoppable and unchallenged.Let the apocalypse come. Let them beg for mercy.Because in this life, Gu Qingran is no one’s prey.She is the storm.

The world was about to end and his life was about to change.

But Mark, a pathetic and ugly 30-years-old man, was more concerned about his relationship situation than anything else.

He lived a lonely life and as he grew older his face became uglier than it already was, so the chance of marrying his ideal woman was slim to none.

Like everyone else, he wanted a second chance... And his wish was granted in a way that he never expected.

One day, after falling asleep during his daily self-reflection, he suddenly realized that he didn't wake up inside his room.

Then he realized that he was given a second chance to redo his life in a different universe.

But is this the second chance that Mark yearned for?

It didn't take Mark too long to understand that this world was beyond his wildest imagination and he was caught up in a greater plot than he expected.

Will his desire to find the love of his life matter in front of the truth behind the creation of the world?

Follow Mark's journey as he travels beyond time, beyond space, and beyond reality where he may finally find the love of his life.

After all, it takes more than just determination to change oneself and reach one's goal.

“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.