I Am Really Not The Son of Providence - Chapter 434: Fairy Qingyue, Sacred Battle Ape!

Living for the sole aim of escaping!

‘Light of Rusbella’ was a depressing romance novel.

Wishing for a new life, Asili Rosé was reborn as the daughter of the 8th wife of the Estrian Emperor.

She thought she was born with a golden spoon, but it was actually just a gilded spoon?

Once she realized that nothing but ruin awaited, she found a diary foreshadowing the future…

It foretold Asili’s death by the hands of the Crown Prince, Castor!

…Let’s try to survive first.

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“What can I do for my elder brother?”

“Well.”

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Pale sky blue hair fluttered finely in the wind. He smiled weakly, before parting his dry lips.

“Call my name.”

“…”

My head quickly snapped up.

“Call me… Amoru.”

His fingertips skimmed along my inner wrist.

In a galaxy ruled by warlords, guilds, and ancient tech cults, Kai Zareth is just another debt-ridden scavenger—until a legendary system descends upon him.“One Trader per 10,000 light years. One chance to rise.”Selected by the Cosmic Trade Nexus, Kai becomes the sole wielder of the Galactic Exchange System, a multidimensional platform that allows him to buy and sell across parallel worlds, forgotten realms, and alien civilizations.With only 12 hours to complete his first trade—or lose everything—Kai scrambles to make deals in a universe where information is power and one wrong barter could cost your life.From selling enchanted goblin toothbrushes in toxic slums to outwitting rival system users and forging alliances with forgotten races, Kai must build his empire item by item, realm by realm.But in a galaxy where traders kill for profit and system users are hunted like prey, being the Merchant Sovereign might be a bigger curse than a blessing.

“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.

Mu Mu transmigrated in the novel that had the plot like a fraud marriage with a man dressed in women’s clothing, rich man regretting and taking revenge after rebirth.

The body he had transmigrated into was none other than that of a scumbag who was a fraud man dressed in women’s clothing. He was also the one that the protagonist took revenge against.

And now, he was standing at the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau with that damn protagonist, holding the newly-released marriage certificate in his hand.

Mu Mu agitatedly raised his head. He saw the fierce and sinister expression on that damn protagonist. He was twitching the corners of his mouth, showing a grim smirk of wishing to eat his blood and flesh.

Mu Mu’s legs were weak and his eyes turned dark. He was trembling: “My good brother, why don’t we get a divorce?”

- Description from Novelupdates