Tearing the Prince's Clothes after Withdrawing Marriage - Chapter 815 - 814: Guess, What Will It Taste Like?

Karsha, a general in the United States Army, was a loving father and husband who was accused of killing his wife and two children. As a result, he was sentenced to death. However, his life took a turn when a sinister being transmigrated his soul to a world of cultivation. He awakened as a slave and slowly rose through the ranks thanks to a strange system with its own agenda. He began walking the path of cultivation and immortality, which will soon drive him into a conspiracy so grand that his understanding of who he was, who he is, and who he is to become will be put into question.

The little beggar Qiqi was reborn.

Back when she was four and a half years old, on the eve of being beaten into a fool, she was burdened, and she took her arrogant system “Dandan” with her, and started the journey of Gou Fugui.

Since the arrival of Qiqi, the poorest Taoxi Village within a radius of ten miles, the barren land has become fertile, the crops have been bumper, and the villagers have less pain.

Seeing the small bungalows being built in Taoxi Village, the old parents came to the door and wanted to take Qiqi back.

The female entrepreneur who stayed at Qiqi’s house to eat, drink, and never left, sneered coldly: “I didn’t ask you to settle the account of stealing my daughter, and now I dare to come to the door, looking for death!”

The wealthy and powerful person who stalks Qiqi’s family, his eyes are as cold as blades: “Want to have a relationship with my daughter? You are also worthy!”

*

Xiao Li, the crown prince in the Beijing circle, is surly and surly. He has a fierce reputation and no one dares to provoke him. A car accident gave him frequent nightmares. In his dreams, he turned into a ghost system!

Xiao Li became irritable online.

Later, at the dinner party of the Yan family, the top wealthy family in the capital, countless people saw the misogynistic crown prince hugging the delicate and soft little princess of the Yan family, his eyes were scarlet, “So you are here. ”

The little princess stammered, “You, you are, Eggy?”

The man froze, gritted his teeth and smiled sinisterly, “I, yes, you, man!”

(Also known as “Peerless Beauty, Miserable, Weak and Poor X Peerless Villain’s Spare Tire Prince’s Road to Recovery”)

- Description from novelbuddy

“How can it be!”

Tang San looked at the unscathed Lu Yuan in shock, and subconsciously said what was in his heart.

“Nothing is impossible.”

Lu Yuan stood there calmly.

If a spatial ability user can’t dodge the most basic physical attack on the spot, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself.

- 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.