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... gained distance while they spoke.

"Are you referring to this blue fella?" Arahabaki asked, his shoulders dropping.

"So you truly are not him?"

"Hah!" Yam interjected.

"If by him you mean Alexander the Conqueror, then you’ve missed the mark. Certainly, they do seem alike—but there are things that carnage-worshipper would never do. For instance, trying to run away from battle the moment he sees a chance."

(Kyaaaahhhh, h-he knew?!)

"Me? Flee?" Alexand ...

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One day, Zhang Chenfei met a car accident. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer any serious physical injuries. However, due to the impact of the car crash, his brain’s perception of the real world had turned into that of the novel that he was reading prior to the accident. The thing that horrified his wife, Jiao Qi, was… the Smart Brain, Louis XIII downloaded a series of books which meant that his husband would turn into a different character each time!

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This novel’s plot focuses on Zhang Chenfei’s changing personality based from the characters in the books, and how his wife, Jiao Qi, deal with every character as he will have to act in sync with whoever his husband’s character is. This is per the advise of the private doctor since treatment of this special condition was still under research.

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- Description from Novelupdates

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Tan Rou only learned that she wasn’t the Tan family’s daughter when she was seventeen years old. She went from being a rich young lady to living in the slums. The parents she adored belonged to someone else, and this series of knockdowns was hard for a seventeen-year-old girl to accept. She wailed like a child for the sake of proving this was all a lie. The vicious words she spouted had hurt her biological family but she didn’t notice.

She thought the Tan family was her real family despite them seeing her as an eyesore, and was even naive enough to want to befriend the Tan family’s real daughter, Tan Jing. Alas, the latter drugged her drink and arrange for a thug to rape her. Tan Jing even brought their classmates along to catch them in the act so Tan Rou was now tainted for life. After being reborn, she looked down at the man she was stepping on. Tan Rou swore not to be a useless wretch in this life or be bullied to death.

She would stomp on those who wronged her and make it up to her real family. They wouldn’t have had to die tragically on the streets in the past life had it not been for her. Tan Rou turned completely evil after crawling back out of Hell. Everyone claimed that the real young lady was educated and talented, while the fake young lady was arrogant and incompetent. Tan Rou scoffed upon hearing this. She held back her brother from trying to stand up for her. “We have all the time in the world. Let’s just wait and see.” Just as everyone was waiting for Tan Rou to make a fool of herself…

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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.

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