Divine Throne of Primordial Blood - Book 7, Chapter 66: Infiltration 3

By a series of freakish accidents, she provokes the feared and mysterious “God of Night”.

When someone bullies her, he says, “Only two types of people bully my wife: those who haven’t crossed her path, and those who have already died. Which do you want to be?”

When someone questions her, he says, “Everything my wife does is right! Those who disagree can have a little chat with me!”

When he goes home, he pleads in a low voice, “Wifey~ Can I not sleep in the study today?”

“You can consider sleeping on the streets.”

“Well, I’ll sleep in the study, then.”

At night, he abducts his freshly-showered wife into the study. She shrieks, “Sheng Nanxuan! What are you doing?!”

“Sleeping… in… the… study!”

The next day, his wife dashes out of the room with tears in her eyes and a sore waist. That isn’t what she meant by “sleeping in the study”…

After a series of life-changing events, Pei Ge decides to start anew and rediscover her place in this world. She gets a new job, new friends and… a new boss whom she mistakes as a male host!

He helps her to get revenge on a back-stabbing friend, supports her when it seems that the world has given up on her, encourages her to be more confident about herself and even… messes up her blind dates!

With her strong working abilities and fiery attitude, she manages to climb up the ranks in the company (under the devious scheme of a certain CEO) and even gains a fan girl who can’t wait to be her sister-in-law.

As Pei Ge navigates through the ups and downs of office politics, family drama, finding her right partner and societal expectations, she realizes that things are not as simple as it seemed and everything she had believed in is tested…

The Big Misunderstanding:

“You asshole! Why didn’t you use protection?! I’m pregnant!”
“…It’s not mine.”
“Asshole! You actually dare to not admit it?! I gave all my firsts to you! You jerk!”
…
At the gynecologist, she read her pregnancy lab report and was stunned: Irregular period.
The man raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Didn’t you make a ruckus about being pregnant with my child? Where is the child?!”
“…” Who is scared of who? Let’s make a bet!

Over a million years ago, the first human contracted with the first Spirit. Ever since then, Spirit use has become commonplace. Humans used Spirits to carry items and start fires. Eventually, even start wars. Thousands upon thousands of years past and one day, one human did the impossible. He transcended his mortality and ascended to the realm above.

“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.