MTL - Editing the Marriage Scene of the Fan Game Was Taken Seriously - Chapter 143

After avenging her brother, Xie Liangchen felt unburdened. Though she now owed a favor, she believed that with death, all debts would vanish like a snuffed candle.But as thunder roared, she found herself back at the tender age of fourteen. Beside her, Marquis Xuanwei had yet to develop the formidable and menacing presence he once had.Xie Liangchen was about to feign ignorance...Song Xian, with a slight lift of his eyes and a glimmer in his gaze, spoke in a deep voice: “Trying to shirk your debt?”“Didn't you say, 'Marquis, your great kindness will be repaid in another life, even if I must become an ox or a horse?'”Song Xian, who was on the verge of reaching the pinnacle of success, was abruptly pulled back to his nineteen-year-old self by Xie Liangchen's shocking revelation—Is this repayment of kindness or revenge?A powerful alliance with dual rebirths, overflowing pampering, and a thrilling tale of empowerment.

My surname is Wu, and everyone calls me Xiao Wu.

Listen, brother, here are some of my experiences-

Don’t listen to what it says when you fight with the dragon, just fight until it dies;

It’s a little more troublesome to beat the goblin, it’s better not to let it see you, you have to shoot the black gun;

It’s a word to engage in orcs, naked!

If the devil dares to come to trouble, he will break his horns, and he will kneel;

Okay, I’m going to fight at the bar now, I’ll write more about the introduction when I get back

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

The second Ye Lulu transmigrates, she gives birth to three children on the spot.