Disciple Cashback System: I Got Exposed By My Disciple - Chapter 936 - Flood Dragon And Nine-Tailed Sparrow

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, “......”

“Did you know? I was once the most powerful person in the world, undefeatable even by the gods. If only I can retrieve my body, I could resurrect once again.”“So what?”“So... who has hidden my corpse!”

“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.