The Dungeon Seeker - Volume 3 Chapter 3.2

He Ruge was addicted to “Your Exclusive Lover” this love nurturing game. Captivated by the attractive military uniforms person, whose original form was a White Tiger Male God.

When the game came to the end, He Ruge suddenly become a mermaid and transmigrated, and he was even the legendary Koi Mermaid with flourishing beauty, charming singing and exceeding good luck?

The place where he fell was even more unusual – the bathtub of the Male God!

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The federation’s Xi Guican, a man whose stamp of his foot could make the whole intersteller tremble. During his recuperation, there appeared a love game that could not be deleted from the optical computer.

The plot of the game was his secret past. In this love game, he returned to the experimental days of No. 20, allowing people to slaughter and bully him, there was only one variable.——

It’s his exclusive lover.

The love that came from the light, taking him out of the dark.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

She paused in front of her kitchen’s window when she noticed a lit lantern in front of her mansion’s garden. Her butler stood there, shovel in hand. This was no hour to be gardening.

Curious, she made her way outside, but when she had gotten close enough to see a large and hollow pit next to her eternally-stoic and polite butler, she saw him pick up a rotten body.

A DEAD BODY!

Her eyes widened fearfully when she saw her handsome butler drop the rotting body into the fresh hole. She asked in horror, ”What are you doing?!“

Surprised to see his young miss awake at this hour, he stared at her with the same expression he had been keeping up for all these years. He had made sure she was asleep before coming here.

“Gardening.”

“And the body?!”she looked at him in disbelief.

“Fertilizer,” he answered her before picking up the shovel that was on the ground. Belle was now certain something had possessed her butler. Who gardened dead bodies?!

She then heard him ask her, “Want to help me in planting it, Miss Adams?” he gave her a sweet smile.

Note: If you enjoy a book of comedy with light-hearted romance and a gothic background. This book is for you~

Zhulan, in a transmigration novel about a supporting female's counterattack through farming, managed a triple leap: getting married, bearing children, and becoming a mother-in-law. The point to focus on: She became the wicked mother-in-law from the counterattack stories.From 26 to 36, not to mention, with six kids in tow, two daughters-in-law, a few grandkids, and a still-living husband—emphasis on the fact that he's not her original spouse, but the one who trapped her into transmigration.Only after becoming the original body did Zhulan realize she was miserably tricked by her two daughters-in-law. The elder daughter-in-law had a loud voice, complete with a 'brain-enhancing' feature—it turned every little issue into a big deal once it reached her mouth.The younger daughter-in-law was timid and weak, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, perfectly crafting the image of Zhulan as a wicked mother-in-law.Zhulan, “.......This life is really unbearable.”Someone, “You still have me.”Zhulan, “Ha, you're the one who screwed me over the most!”Someone, “......”