Forced to Be a Villain: Starting With My Brain Extraction System Chapter 1: Explosion!

Who do you reckon is the more miserable one?

Is it a villain who possessed it all once, basking in a lifestyle that myriads coveted, yet collided with the protagonist and forfeited everything?

Perhaps... those avid readers, yearning intensely for the upcoming chapter release to resolve that agonizing cliffhanger?

Or could it be the author himself, racking his brains desperately to craft engaging content?

Opinions might differ based on the person, yet for Mo Zhiran, the truth was crystal obvious.

Right from his transmigration into this realm, the reality shone bright as daylight.

Especially now, as a foot-long item was brutally shoved into him from the rear, making it utterly unmistakable.

A gush of blood erupted from Mo Zhiran's mouth while he gripped his belly, scarlet fluid surging past his fingers from the sword's clean penetration.

"Dare to offend the Sun Demon Court. Your brother is really seeking death."

A raspy tone brimming with murderous intent abruptly sounded from behind, accompanied by a cloaked figure in shadows concealing his form.

The sole standout feature was the stark Sun Demon Court insignia—a pitch-black blazing sun.

The instant Zhiran sensed the cloaked man's aura, he instantly discerned the cultivation level.

A bitter scowl twisted his features as he pondered, fully aware that doom loomed inescapably, given his mere Early Golden Core realm against such a foe.

Fury boiled within Zhiran as he shot a venomous glare at the recognizable shadow ahead—the boy weaving swiftly amid trees and boulders, cradling an insensate girl.

These were the precise words that reached his ears while he wandered the secret realm peacefully.

Before comprehension dawned, a longsword speared him straight from behind, trailed by that icy, lethal declaration.

The sequence of events stood transparently obvious now.

"Tch... poor guy. Seems like your brother betrayed you for a girl."

The black-robed assailant had pieced together the scenario and couldn't resist sneering at Zhiran.

Though a twinge of sympathy stirred for the one he'd dubbed brother?

Mercy evaded Zhiran entirely; the man channeled spiritual energy to wrench the blade savagely within.

"Ugh... fuck!"

Agony scorched through Zhiran's frame as he swore, blood flooding from his gut like a torrent, flesh mangling grotesquely around the steel.

"Regardless, your role as bait worked, didn't it? You held me back, after all."

Though the shadow could slay him instantly and pursue Mo Tianyu, his so-called brother, he refrained.

Rather, he savored tormenting Zhiran with taunts amid his suffering.

"Hehe... rest easy. Another Sun Demon Court elder blocks the path ahead. Even at late Golden Core stage, he's plenty capable of slaying that punk."

Noting Zhiran's look, the elder divulged the contingency, prompting an infuriated eye-roll.

Enraged by this fool's scheme, Zhiran hacked up fresh blood.

Instinct told him Mo Tianyu's grim fate without delay.

Nothing short of triumphing over that late Golden Core elder using mid-stage power in mortal combat.

Perhaps he'd shatter through to late stage amid the fray.

How often had Zhiran witnessed this trope repeat endlessly?

Countless instances of Tianyu shattering norms, crushing superiors despite inferior cultivation, emerging triumphant?

Such feats fueled Zhiran's profound loathing for this clan brother.

Beyond today's treachery, Tianyu embodied the heroic lead, while he lingered as mere fodder, an insignificant extra.

And not even ordinary fodder.

Destined as cannon fodder, a plot device to propel his rival's glory.

Precisely like this moment—sacrificed arbitrarily so Tianyu could rescue his damsel, earning acclaim.

Zhiran's curses echoed inwardly as Qi and blood roiled chaotically, dizziness overtaking his frail form.

Escape from fate eluded his every effort.

Heaven itself schemed to immolate him for his clan brother's ascent.

It had always been thus, and remained so.

"Hehe... seething with fury? Betrayed and vengeful? Craving retribution?"

The Sun Demon Court elder detected Zhiran's wrath and smirked with delight.

"Here's a deal: surrender your soul voluntarily to my ghost banner as a demon, and I'll let you avenge that brother. Deal?"

He proposed, unveiling his scheme while unveiling a sinister ebony banner.

Instantly, wails and anguished cries reverberated through the woods, countless tormented demonic souls twisting in pain before Zhiran's eyes.

Its mere presence chilled Zhiran to the bone with terror.

Too late, he grasped the abyss of his predicament—even death offered no escape from torment.

"Hehe... fear not, no pain involved. Revenge awaits swiftly."

Zhiran watched the elder reach for his skull, amplifying the sword's torment to cloud his focus.

After all, forging a ghost general demanded a live Golden Core soul offering.

"Haha... Heaven, is this your scheme to safeguard the protagonist?"

Facing his plight, dread yielded to Zhiran's wild guffaw.

Unbridled and booming, his laughter brimmed with boundless rage and utter despair.

With the forward elder intent on ensnaring him in the ghost banner, Zhiran's sole option was detonating his Golden Core for mutual destruction.

Spiritual energy access failed him now, defense impossible; inaction risked eternal undeath as a specter.

Thus, only one path: self-detonation via a secret art from a fated opportunity.

"Has he lost his mind?"

Zhiran's outburst furrowed the elder's brow in bewilderment, yet his grasp pressed onward to claim the soul forcibly.

Yet prior to triumph, Zhiran's mirth halted abruptly, his icy stare locking onto the foe.

"Dream on if you think you'll turn me into a ghost general."

He spat with venomous scorn, ignoring the hemorrhage from his torso.

"Old fool, next lifetime, gain some wits. Idiots like you torment us extras endlessly."

His words baffled the elder completely.

Before clarity struck, the elder witnessed Zhiran sealing his eyes, channeling inward fiercely as spiritual energy converged in his dantian.

"What... what are you up to?"

Alarm and confusion gripped the elder, but Zhiran denied reaction time.

Eyes clamped shut, he unleashed the secret technique fully, golden core energies whirling madly in his dantian, oppressing the atmosphere suffocatingly.

Then—

KABOOM...!

Ruthlessly, he triggered his inner golden core's blast.

The cataclysmic surge ripped the vicinity apart, flinging the elder tumbling battered and charred amid debris, blood, and haze.

Zhiran, explosion's epicenter, lay mangled beyond repair.

Garments incinerated to rags, frame shattered multiply, golden ichor leaking from his dantian—sealing his cultivation and existence.

Yet ere darkness claimed his sight, the quaking, scarcely standing Zhiran murmured coldly, emotionless,

"Should fate grant rebirth... I shall devour this Heaven."

Such venom laced the whisper that the grievously wounded elder shuddered involuntarily upon the earth.