Cultivation: I Have Studied Abroad in the Modern World - Chapter 12 - Fear

It’s the vacation of a lifetime, a trip to a remote island filled with geniuses and murder.

All she was doing was playing QQ Farm, how did she end up waking up somewhere foreign?

Su Qingqing was being watched by a pervert.

Yes, that man with a model figure and an immortal appearance that was all about women’s aesthetic points, however he was ruthless and refused to recognize her. He also successfully fooled her into a marriage with only ninety-nine yuan!

It should’ve been that each takes what they need, it’s mutual benefit. Typically, everything should revolve around interests.

But only watching her make a fool of herself, secretly letting her go, mocking her for being ugly without make-up!
Even worse, he squatted at her bedside one night.

His handsome face was full of indignation.

What do you mean by warding off evil spirits?

What contraception??

The man laughed wantonly, and there was no trace of cold air in him. “Darling, I missed you all night last night.”

“Shut up! What are you trying to do?”

The man hooks his lips, trapping the person under his body with an overwhelming advantage. His posture was very provocative.

“What do you want to do…”

Eh? Is it not enough to pay you back? Do I have to sleep with you??

Su Qingqing’s heart trembled. “Go away, you pervert! Let go of me! If you have the ability, let go. Let…let’s fight!”

“Fight? Then we can fight in bed.”

“…”

“Who shouts stop first is the loser, how about it?”

He didn’t even give Su Qingqing the chance to regret, as the man kept her lips shut.

Wuwu, this husband, she can’t stand it, can she give him away?

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.