The Warden of The Witches - Chapter 185:

[System Activation Complete][Welcome, Host, to your new world.][You died, and your soul has been transported into a new world.][Mission Assigned: Build the Greatest Empire in This World]After a fatal accident, Aric awakens in a strange new world, now in the body of a seventeen-year-old half-elf with nothing but a shattered past. Abandoned by both humans and elves, he’s forced to survive alone in a dangerous forest. With no one to trust and nothing to his name.He awakens a mysterious system that gives him the mission to create the greatest empire. Aric takes up this task in other to survive, trying to make the greatest empire from scratch in this new world. Will he make it to the end other will this world swallow him.

Zhangsun Zijun and Yi Xichen are the protagonists of the novel “Record of Nine Thousand Vicissitudes.” One is solid and reserved; the other is free-spirited and uninhibited. As fellow disciples under the same master who grew up together, the two have a deep friendship that was strengthened by their numerous life and death adventures together.

However, in a popular yaoi fanfiction, the personalities of these two characters is completely OOC. Zhangsun Zijun turned into an insanely jealous, insatiable s*x addict madly in love with his wife Yi Xichen. Yi Xichen turned into a sweet, delicate little angel. Their daily life was full of kinky bedroom activities…

Suddenly, the Zhangsun Zijun character from the fanfiction was transported into the world of the original novel.

- Description from Novelupdates

Changqing has always felt that she’s incomparable to Guan Ying in every aspect. Even though she is pretty and has a good family background, this world is nothing more than a world where Princes are more attracted to Cinderellas.

Her first love that she dearly remembers in her heart for years eventually becomes Guan Ying’s current boyfriend and her fiancé is Guan Ying’s ex. He has yet to forget Guan Ying.

A business marriage brings Changqing and Song Chuyi together despite the absence of love.
In public, he is her friend’s ex and in private he is her husband who cannot be publicly–known.
At the hospital, her good friend enjoys her husband’s embrace while she can only act as though he’s a stranger.
At a gala dinner, her good friend hooks her arm around her first love’s arm shyly and she can only smile and give them her blessings.

…

In this marriage, Changqing thinks that all is well other than the fact that Song Chuyi doesn’t love her.
First, her husband is a doctor and he can treat all her illnesses while saving up on medical expenses.
Second, doctors love cleanliness and her husband would always ensure the cleanliness of the house.
Third, at the end of every month, her thin wallet would grow thick with cash that her husband stuffs in secretly.
Fourth, as a person who doesn’t like to exercise, she always get dragged around by her husband day and night to do some pleasurable exercise that is beneficial for the body and mind.
Fifth, she would never have to worry that she would be out of money.
There are always so many uncountable advantages that Changqing enjoys.

…

After the marriage, on a certain night, Changqing looks at Dr. Song gloomily. “Hubby, why are you so nice to me when you don’t even love me?”
Dr. Song continues reading his medical books and ignores her. It’s sometimes quite a headache when your wife is too stupid and daft.
Until one day, Changqing realises that there’s really no free lunch in this world…

- 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.