Necromancer Of The Shadows - Chapter 1111 Rattle

As we all know, there is a force that must not be messed with in the Southern Region, thatched cottage.

Among them, the eldest disciple is the Qingyun Sword Master of the Southern Region, with a mastery of swordsmanship.

The second disciple, the Eternal Empress, leads an era.

The third disciple is a great Confucianist in the world, and the star of Wenqu came down to earth.

The fourth disciple, the reincarnation of the demon god, suppressed Jiuyou.

…

Lu Changsheng: Me? I am nothing special, just their master.

- Description from novelbuddy

Having brought up her younger siblings in troubled times and guiding her younger brother to the throne, Xia Wanyuan is the most legendary eldest princess in the history of the Xia Dynasty.When this eldest princess opens her eyes, she finds herself in a world a thousand years into the future. While she is still called “Princess”, it's only a nasty jeer imparted on her as a mockery for her arrogant connections within the entertainment industry. So what if you were rich? In the end you've fallen to a status far lower than any beast!In response, Xia Wanyuan promises that a day would come when they will sincerely call her Princess. Everyone laughs at her, waiting to see the day when she'll be abandoned by the wealthy and affluent.Handsome yet aloof, President Jun Shiling is known only for his success in the corporate world with a demeanor cold enough to cut through ice. He has just one thing to say: Take the one hundred million divorce fee and leave quickly.Two years later, the eldest princess is a two-time winner of a prestigious acting award. The darling of the fashion world, she has become a style icon who is also proficient in the four classical arts. As an all-knowing professor in both literature and poetry, she is also a professor in two departments at the most renowned institute of higher learning. The Olympics? Gold medals are a dime a dozen when considering her skills in fencing and shooting. Her name is spread all over the world and she is filled with an unprecedented glory never bestowed upon any other.The CEO who wanted a divorce at the start refutes on television: “How dare anyone spread rumors about our divorce? My dearest wife, can we have another child?”

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

- 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.