Humanity's Greatest Mecha Warrior System - Chapter 1164 To The Bridge

He said coolly: “One million a month, stay with me!” She raised her eyebrows and smiled: “Pay a 30% deposit first, no credit!” Show no mercy. When the contract expired, she turned around gracefully, and when he chased after her, she found that there was already a kid the size of a kid beside her…

- Description from novelbuddy

In her previous life, she was betrayed by her husband and sister, who not only drugged her and forced her into a relationship with a stranger but ultimately conspired to kill her. After being reborn, she found herself in the body of a disgraced heiress, a girl who had hidden her identity and attended school in another city. She didn't excel in lessons and was unpopular among classmates and teachers. Besides, her family, with the exception of her grandfather, disliked her very much. Therefore, in this life, she vowed to avenge not only herself but also the soul who once inhabited this body.With her rebirth, she possesses a purple bracelet that grants her superpowers. She has access to a purple secret space, which contains mysterious towers, rare elixirs, and other enigmatic treasures. As she gradually unravels the secrets behind these superpowers, the purple bracelet suddenly shatters, sparking a new set of events.Caught in a maelstrom of time and space, she embarks on an extraordinary journey filled with unforeseen adventures. Is this rebirth a mere coincidence, or is it all part of a grander, predetermined plan?

She is a thief of the 24th century, but she has traveled back to a stupid and useless person without a father or mother, and it depends on the faces of those in the family. idiot? waste material? Very good, she will soon let these foolish Earthlings know what it means to regret deeply!Fighting spirit? Magic? Her dual cultivation of magic and martial arts crushes all geniuses. The position of head of the household? The Vermilion Bird Divine Beast? to want to? Sorry, she took itBut who will tell her that this cute Zhengtai, who gets dizzy and vomits wildly while riding in a carriage, is really the mythical creature Suzaku?What kind of god is the mysterious soul that resides in her body, like an old man? AndWhy do other people's friends show all kinds of domineering aura, and their domineering aura is incomparable. Why are these few people around her, either the sly merchant fox man, the paralyzed iceberg technology otaku, or the fickle and charming ghost? The best one is probably that sick and beautiful man!What about the promised hegemony over the world and the tyranny of all directions?

“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.