World’s Best Martial Artist - Chapter 1353 - -setting off again

The girl submerged in the bottom of the lake suddenly opens her eyes. The noble ChuChao Gongzhu [Princess] becomes an abandoned daughter and woman. No problem. This type of slag father is not worth mentioning. By virtue of her exquisite medical skills, she becomes famous in the world. Slag father wants to reunite? Close the door, let out the dogs! Shizi [Heir of a noble title] wants to ask for marriage? Let him wait in line! The Regent has a chronic illness? Perfect. Godly doctor becomes a poison doctor. Let him neither live nor die and taste the pain of his evil deeds. She exacts bloody vengeance. Appointed Wuguo Gongzhu, she returns to her noble life. Slag father regrets, sister envies, stepmother hates!

Before her reincarnation, Jiang Nanfei, after marrying Huo Beijiang, led a troubled life which included the tragic death of her younger brother, the early loss of her parents, and betrayal from those she trusted the most. After being reborn, she thanked heaven and earth, shamelessly tried to get close to him, stick with him, make him hers.In this life, she wants to clean the dust off her heart and through her own efforts, achieve the life she desires. The beauty of life is not only about the scum man in front of her, or the pure lotus far away, it is also about the family behind her, the friends around her, and the man who loves her dearly.

‘The moment I faced its enormous eye, an unbearable headache struck me. Just by facing it, the amount of information exceeded what my brain could handle.’

Excerpt from ‘Things I Encountered in Space’ by Terra race space adventurer ‘Con Arche’.

…No, I was just looking out of curiosity…?

“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.