MTL - Undead - Chapter 19 .Chapter 19

“This guy, how heavy is his taste, he’s still able to eat?” Waking up, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, explosive hair, tattoos, and a demon-like face. Look at her for more than a second and you’ll have spicy eyes (your eyes will bleed-aka she looks really ugly).

Before her rebirth, she was in love with someone else, bent on escaping, and after having relations with him, hates him deep to his bones.

After her rebirth, she looked at the beauty on the bed, seriously thinking, the one who left his shadow in the past, seemingly should be him?

In her past life, her mind was muddled. She tried to get rid of the outstandingly beautiful husband that she didn’t want, was victimized by slag men and cheap women, and her most trusted friend brainwashed her. In the end, she found people rebelling and friends deserting (isolated and alone).

In this lifetime, all of the evil people scheming and longing for her divorce should yield. Sorry but this young miss’s IQ is on the line!

- Description from novelupdates

Framed by her so-called best friend and half-sister, Su Qianxun stumbled upon a strange man when she was making her escape. A strange man so handsome it looked as if his face was carved by the Gods, but with a heart as cold as stone. A wild and fiery night ensued, and ever since then, they embarked on a journey filled with passion, lust, conspiracy and treachery.

A tree of 10,000 flowers, the world is the door.
The spells change a lot, but the hearts of the people are unchanged.

- Description from Uukanshu translation

“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.