My Fairy Growth System - Chapter 408 - 407: Sacrifice the Body and Burn the Soul for Ah Jiao

Throughout the Ming Kingdom, Jun Hua was famous for being a useless girl without any talent worthy of praise. Everyone mocked her, belittling her for latching onto her brilliant brother Jun Min, the young and peerless general admired as the most talented prodigy for his talent and his ability to change the fate of the declining Jun Family.

Never in their wildest dreams would they have suspected that Jun Hua is the young general who is leading the army on the frontline, Jun Min!

“She has no talent as a girl, but has the brilliance of a great general!”

Her journey towards revenge is something she has to do on her own. And yet, on that path she will gain allies, friends, and possibly even...... a romance?

This is Jun Hua's story, a story that shall be carved into history as the legend of “the flower who blooms from the battlefields”.

Marry him for a contract, but it is love that supports them to live together.

In order to raise medical expenses for the seriously ill father, she had to sign a contract with a strange man, she would be his wife, and he was responsible for paying for the treatment of her father.

Life after marriage is very ordinary. He is the CEO of the company. He is busy working every day and occasionally has a look at her, but he is full of disgust. However, she fell in love with him little by little, and she was very sad when facing his indifference. Neither of them knew how to resolve the misunderstanding between them.

After experiencing the death of her father and an unexpected pregnancy, they finally opened their hearts, and sincerely, began a happy life.

Living for the sole aim of escaping!

‘Light of Rusbella’ was a depressing romance novel.

Wishing for a new life, Asili Rosé was reborn as the daughter of the 8th wife of the Estrian Emperor.

She thought she was born with a golden spoon, but it was actually just a gilded spoon?

Once she realized that nothing but ruin awaited, she found a diary foreshadowing the future…

It foretold Asili’s death by the hands of the Crown Prince, Castor!

…Let’s try to survive first.

__

“What can I do for my elder brother?”

“Well.”

__

Pale sky blue hair fluttered finely in the wind. He smiled weakly, before parting his dry lips.

“Call my name.”

“…”

My head quickly snapped up.

“Call me… Amoru.”

His fingertips skimmed along my inner wrist.

“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.