The Female Channel Turns to Qingqing Dao, and the Protagonist Suffers from Old Sins!

If it's bad, you'll get poked. The female channel likes Huo Huoxiu's ruthless ways.

To be honest, although this book is refuting some of the female videos, the author himself writes very female videos.

The Wuqingdao of the female channel is quite difficult to stretch. Basically, behind the Wuqingdao of the female channel, she is basically sitting at the same table with the cold fairy😰 You might as well be Xie... No, Xie Cultivator seems to have a harder time stretching.

No different from female videos, weird aesthetics, abstract plot

It smells like a female channel, and my brain is going to go crazy. Is the author a female channel author instead of a male channel?

I'd love to see you on Rotten Tomatoes, not here.

It's okay, but I've read this kind of article too much, and if I'm not a modern person, I don't have a strong sense of immersion in time travel.

The author of a female channel writes a male channel, it's too strong

Every so-called illogical and bad routine on female videos is actually a logical routine when traced to its source. For example, washing underwear with a cold face In essence (the undistorted version, not the currently popular distorted version) is to stick to your heart in the face of unparalleled power... You may gain the respect of the enemy, or you may just die a worthy death (I tried my best) What else, The setting of the female channel is to guard the border and hold hundreds of thousands of troops, but the empress obediently handed over power with an imperial edict. [[Female Channel] 800,000 Forbidden Army Generals, the Empress asked me to hand over military power, and then kill all nine of my tribes! ] Similar to the plot of Dong Zhuo being killed by Emperor Xian of the Han Dynasty, the general in it was essentially Yue Fei. ... PS: If the local male version of the cold-faced underwear-washing routine was adapted, it would be the following example——→ Prologue: The Spread of Silence The purple crescent moon of the demon world hangs high over the city that was once the most prosperous city of the Illuminati. The solemnity and prayers of the past are no longer seen on the streets, replaced by a strange "peace". The sound of ecstasy flows in the air, and men and women addicted to love can be seen everywhere, their eyes are blurred, and their faces are filled with satisfied but empty smiles. The order of the city has been rewritten, and the coat of arms of the demon world is imprinted on the broken statues. I lowered the hood of my cloak and walked through the crooked alleys. The sweet smell in the air was nauseating. Half a year ago, when I was involved in that damn illusion, the world was not like this. At least, not on the surface. Act 1: The Prelude to the Illusion of the Universe and the Fall Everything begins with the invisible wave that sweeps the world - the "True Water of the Universe" launched by the Demon King, a spiritual illusion that spans three thousand years. At that time, the brave team had just finished a battle and were resting. And I, the only non-combatant in this team, happened to be in a neighboring city due to the trivial matter of "purchasing supplies." It was this insignificant distance that allowed me to be captured by that terrifying illusion an hour later than my teammates. Later I realized that in just one hour, it was already a natural chasm. In the fantasy world, time flows like a long river. I am no longer the ordinary traveler driver. In one moment, I became a down-and-out scholar who studied hard but failed many times, and finally abandoned his wife and son; the next moment, I became a gray-haired unknown veteran who fought to the death in the border war; in the blink of an eye, my perception became a forced smile in a brothel, with a disgraced courtesan... Countless lives, countless identities, countless causes and effects, like surging tides, try to drown my true spirit. Every change of identity is accompanied by a huge impact of memories and emotions, which is designed to distort my true heart, make me get lost in the world of mortals, and identify with this illusory reincarnation. I saw my teammates, their experiences were similar to mine, but completely different. The arrogance of the elves collapsed after being trampled countless times, and instead embraced the primitive wildness; the piety of the priest turned into a morbid devotion to the Demon King after experiencing the deception of "divine enlightenment" and the despair of "divine abandonment"; the rationality of the magician completely collapsed under the torture of the endless knowledge maze and sensory vacuum, sinking into the ultimate experience brought by the tentacles... And the brave... She is the Demon King's main target. Her belief that was "so fanatical that it materialized the Holy Light" was ruthlessly deconstructed layer by layer in the illusion. The devil showed her the hidden historical truth, making her prayers pale and her beliefs ridiculous after being tortured in countless reincarnations. In the end, the firm belief turned into extreme disillusionment. The huge emptiness was instantly filled by the sensory stimulation and "love" provided by the devil. Her love for the object of "faith" is distortedly projected onto the materialized holy sword, regarding it as her only, touchable "lover". The holy warrior has since fallen into a succubus addicted to lust. Act 2: The Fool's Fist breaks out of the realm I am different from them. Illusion has given me countless identities, but I am only a bystander and an experiencer. I experienced their joys and sorrows, but I did not let these emotions replace my "self". A scholar in despair? I understand his unwillingness, but I know I am not him. The general fights to the death? I felt his heroism, but I knew I was not him. The courtesan is sad? I understand her pain, but I know I'm not her. My core, the "I" who comes from another world, is somewhat inferior but often confident, does not believe in God and does not follow blindly, has never wavered. This firm "self" turns into the purest power - will in the illusion. Every time the causal dust of the illusion tries to cover my soul, and whenever the illusion itself shows cracks because it cannot assimilate me, I will "punch" against this illusory time and space. This is not a physical punch, but the embodiment of spiritual will. It is the declaration of "I am who I am" and a fierce fight back against all the forces that try to distort me! My "boxing" has no skills, only an almost stupid determination. The power of each "punch" will not dissipate, but will continue to accumulate, just like Foolish Old Man moving mountains, water drops piercing rocks. The devil restarted the illusion again and again, reincarnated hundreds of times, trying to destroy me. The result is that my "unswerving, transcending time" will has penetrated all reincarnations, and instead impacted the illusion to the point of collapse. In the end, the devil found that he could not conquer me mentally, and even the illusion itself was about to be exploded by my will. She could only choose to forcefully spit out my "hard rock" out of the illusion. Suddenly, I returned to reality. Only discovered that more than half a year has passed in real time. The world has been turned upside down. Act III: Desperate Escape and Last Invitation The place where you walked out of the illusion is already deep in the Demon Realm. I tried to escape. With the willpower I forged in the illusion, which is far superior to before, I can even weakly activate the remaining magic power of the illusion, and activate the scrolls left by the magicians, which I call "Elemental Talisman". The Fire Talisman exploded, the Ice Collapse Talisman raged... I fought like a madman, dragging my mortal body and charging through the demon army. The armor was shattered, bones were broken, and blood blurred his vision. The demon's suspended mountain smashed me into the ground again and again, and I stood up stubbornly again and again. I only have one thought in my mind: I can't die here, I must at least bite off a piece of the enemy's flesh! In the distance, those people who had sunk looked at me struggling like a moth to a flame, and someone actually shouted with a cry: "Surrender! You are at the end of your rope!" "Surrender..." "Surrender!" The voices began to gather, and even the demons imitated human voices, and it seemed that only this word was left echoing in the world. I gritted my teeth and spit my bloody teeth on the ground. "I would rather die——" I used up my last strength to stand up and roared with determination: "——I will not surrender!" If there is no way to survive, then we will die together! I took out all the talismans and inhaled the vitality crazily, trying to detonate myself. At the same time, I used my last will to communicate with the artifact transport vehicle that was used as logistics and contained a large number of spare scrolls, and ordered it to rush over and explode! However, the transmitter failed at the last minute. Exhausted, truly at the end of the rope. At this moment, I noticed that the demon attack around me gradually slowed down and finally gave way to a path. A straight road leading to the Demon King's castle in the distance. This is an invitation. I smiled, dragged my broken body, and embarked on this road calmly. It makes no difference whether you die early or die late. At least, I want to see for myself who is behind all this. Act 4: Confrontation in front of the throne So, there is the beginning scene. The charming Demon King sat on the throne with her feet crossed, her silver hair tangled around her fingertips. She looked down at me with interest, flanked by my unrecognizable teammates. The half-werewolf elf archer licked his sharp claws, and his former arrogance turned into beast-like desire; the priest's body was covered with gauze, his curves were hazy, and his piety turned into a fanatical devotion to the devil; the magician... I couldn't bear to look at it. And the childhood sweetheart I am most familiar with, the hope of mankind - the brave man chosen by God, has turned into a succubus. The holy sword that was as tall as a person was held in her arms like a lover, her heart-shaped tail swaying restlessly, and a suppressed hum escaping from her mouth. Thinking about the contrast between her appearance as a fanatical believer of the God of Light and now... Two poems flashed through my mind inexplicably: "Bright and snowy, high-spirited and mediocre. It's hard to live up to the reputation." They all stared at me closely, with eyes like hungry beasts, wanting to "eat me dry". But they didn't move, perhaps because of their remaining humanity, or more likely because the Demon King had not yet agreed. "Why?" The Demon King spoke, his voice full of sincere doubts, "You have neither fanaticism nor hatred, nor are you compelled by a mission... Why are you the last one? You can't have no feelings for them at all, right?" "You That's right." I nodded, "Apart from the unsightly scenes on the street, the demonic settlement is indeed much more 'peaceful' than the church's rule." I slowly pulled out the sword at my waist - an ordinary mortal iron ritual weapon, a symbol of the coachman's status. However, the moment my sword pointed at the Demon King, a strong holy light suddenly came and lingered on the sword! This is a symbol that only God's Chosen Hero and the Holy Sword can have. The Demon King and I were stunned for a moment, and then we both laughed. What she laughed at was how ridiculous this belated miracle was. What makes me laugh is that when this goddess of light is in such a situation, she still wants to use me as a final bargaining chip. "Now that things have happened, there is really no need to hide it." I said loudly, "The new world you envisioned can indeed make most people happy forever, much better than they are now." The holy light surged on my sword, getting stronger and stronger, like a desperate gambler. "I'm honored." The Demon King greeted me gracefully, stroking his chest and waiting for my answer. "But there is no place for me in your wonderful new world!" The holy light is as blazing as the sun, as if it carries the final will of the gods. "As for the reason..." The holy light froze at its peak, and the next moment it faded away like a tide, disappearing without a trace. Only the ordinary iron sword was left, shining with an icy cold light. In my eyes, the light of this mortal iron is far more dazzling than the false miracle just now! "Because I am, it's me!" Before he finished speaking, the long iron sword could not withstand the erosion of the holy energy just now and the infusion of my surging will at this moment. There was a "click" and it broke inch by inch! I threw away the hilt of the sword and laughed knowingly. It doesn't matter, my swordsmanship is ordinary. The sword I just raised was just a subconscious gesture in a desperate situation. Act Five: The Fist of Will, the End of Glory The Demon King looked at me abandoning the sword, and a trace of true appreciation flashed in his eyes. "I understand." She slowly stood up from the throne, "It is easy to defeat your body. But what I want is to completely conquer. Defeat you in your strongest area!" She opened her arms, and endless magic power surged out! The surrounding space was instantly distorted and solidified, and the boundaries between the throne room and the real world were blurred. She did not hesitate to turn this area into a semi-physical illusion! Here, the power of will can interfere with reality to a greater extent! "Right here, you will be convinced of your defeat!" The Demon King punched from afar. It seems random, but it contains terrifying magic power that can shatter mountains. I took a deep breath, and the will that had been tempered to the extreme in the Three Thousand Illusions exploded! The magic power wandering in the illusion was captured by my will and concentrated on my fist! I didn't retreat, but punched out the same way! No skills, only the purest determination! Boom! The moment my fists faced each other, the sleeves of both my arms burst instantly, the skin cracked, blood dripped, and my bones groaned in overwhelming pain! But I blocked it! The fist of my will, a puny mortal, blocked the devil's devastating blow! "Very good!" The devil's eyes lit up with excitement. She no longer looked down upon him and really started to use her power. The second punch follows! I waved my fist to meet him again, my will burning even brighter! This punch gathered the power of the previous punch, making it even more unwavering! Bang! The skin of my fists was torn and the bones were visible. The whole person was blown away by the huge force and hit the huge pillar of the royal hall. "Run away! Whoever... Run away!" The magician seemed to break free from the sinking momentarily and shouted hoarsely. "Run away! In front of the devil... There is no shame!" The brave man looked at my miserable state and sobbed with a cry. I struggled to stand up, dirty blood flowing from my orifices, and my senses were all blurred. But the next time I punched, it was stronger than before...! "Why are you crying!" I growled, my voice hoarse but with unquestionable determination, "I can still punch such a punch!" One punch, another punch! My body began to crack, like broken porcelain, which was forcibly repaired by an immortal will. The stronger the punch, the more severe the backlash. But I don't care, my will only points in one direction - forward! The hundreds of millions of perishing creatures around, and even the noble beings in the distant Kingdom of God, have all sensed this pure, powerful will power that makes the world look at it! The Demon King's fist finally trembled for the first time. On the peak of her fist that was filled with magic power, there was actually a slight scar scratched out by my will! She slowly wiped away the trace of blood, and looked at me, who was almost inhuman form but still standing, punching her again and again. The arrogance and joking on my face finally disappeared, replaced by a kind of solemnity and seriousness. "I remember you." The devil's voice no longer contained temptation, only a calm statement. Finally, I stood firm. The body is broken, but the breath is like an eternal rock. I used up my last inaudible breath and murmured: "I tried my best..." "But... At least I didn't let myself down and regret it..." The wind whistled, as if to see me off. I lost all my vitality, but my body still stood tall. The fighting spirit and evil spirit lingered, as if I was integrated with this desolate throne room. The Demon King put his hands behind his hands and looked at my lifeless body that still refused to fall, and was silent for a moment. "I saw your will." She finally turned around, no longer looking at the sinking or awakening ones, and disappeared into the depths of the palace on the rolling demonic tide. She won the world, but failed to win the complete victory in this battle of wills. The hilt of the mortal iron sword, which had long been broken, lay quietly in a pool of blood. The dark red blood soaked into its dark surface, telling the story of how a mortal used "self" as a sword and fought to the end. (End)

Author, did you hold yourself back while writing?

It's weird, there's no logic, and the writing is quite unusual.

The evolution history of female pornographic pornographic routines is a history of logical sacrifice driven by emotional needs. 1. Eternal needs: Readers' desire for "dignity", "true love", "wisdom" and "fairness" is eternal. This is the root of all routines. 2. Logic gives way: When the market pursues rapid emotional feedback, the author will choose the most direct way—amplifying conflicts, extremizing characters, and simplifying processes—to satisfy this demand, resulting in the logical framework supporting the storyline being hollowed out. 3. Hollowing of the core: The original, rational core is hollowed out, leaving only an exaggerated, symbolic plot shell. This is the birth of "bad routine". So, when you see a bad routine that is "illogical", you might as well dig a little deeper, and you can almost always find an emotional core that is originally very contagious and reasonable. Its "badness" does not lie in the idea itself, but in the fact that the narrator betrays the most basic logic and human nature of the story in order to make it quick. Their "badness" and "illogicality" are often the result of later generations of authors only knowing their form but not their spirit when imitating them, infinitely amplifying and distorting their core cool points, causing the logical chain to break. The evolution of any popular routine follows a similar path: 1. Core/essence: a core proposition that can trigger strong emotional resonance. 2. Classical paradigm: a logically self-consistent narrative model formed around this core. 3. Alienation and amplification: In order to provide emotional stimulation faster and more intensely, later authors began to simplify logic, amplify conflicts, and extremeize character settings. 4. Bad routines/poisonous points: logic completely gives way to emotion, characters are reduced to tools, and the settings are inconsistent, forming an assembly line product of "torture for the sake of torture" and "refreshment for the sake of pleasure". 🔮 Routines are not original sins, narratives have high and low levels In my opinion, the essence of "bad routines" is often logical and deep. Their "badness" stems from the fact that in the process of commercialization, scale, and rapid consumption, their cores have been hollowed out and simplified in order to adapt to the widest (sometimes considered the "lowest") emotional needs and creative costs. The key to judging whether a routine is used well or not is not whether the routine is used, but whether: Whether the internal logic of the original routine is respected: For example, the core of "washing underwear with a cold face" is dignity against power, not laundry to attract hegemons. Whether it is consistent with the character's motivations and the background of the era: For example, the prerequisite for the right to engage in military engagement is that the character has a sufficient reason that is consistent with his identity and world view. Whether it serves character creation and theme expression: Routine should be a tool, not a purpose. Really excellent works can not only understand and use the underlying emotional mechanism of the kit, but also give it flesh and blood and soul, and even go against the kit to complete a touching narrative.

Maybe it's because I've read too many similar beginnings, and I always feel like I'll just grab a wave of leeks and run away after putting them on the shelves. I'll come back and take a look when I get 500,000 words.

It's pretty cool. If you're bored, you can take a look.

The smell is too strong, and the writing style makes me uncomfortable.

The female channel is too strong, the fights are based on it, and the flavor is like comics. It seems like the author of the female channel just listened to some advice and started copying some male channel novels from a few years ago.

It is said that there is something wrong with the way of heaven in the world and it is polluted. It is a good setting to complete.

So beautiful, platinum appearance🙂

So beautiful, platinum appearance😍

It's over, I really have no brain

It feels ok but not smooth