Immortal Martial God - Chapter 2280 Talent Conference

Mr. Tycoon Is Actually the Father of My Child!

Tang was cheated by her husband who got another woman pregnant. Tricked by the mistress and mother-in-law, she had been criticized by the public and kicked out of her husband’s family. Then, there comes Su, who showed up like a saviour for her, prevented her from all the difficulties that her ex’s family made to her. He held her in his arms, haughtily said to them, ‘It will only be me that can bully my girl! Anyone who dares to bully her is opposing me!’ She was shocked. And her mother-in-law said she was a wanton woman. After that, he was always protecting her, treated her preciously. He made her realized that even the second marriage could also make her so happy!

- Description from Novelupdates

Gu Nianshen had thought all along that he was raped by an older lady five years ago when he got really drunk at a nightclub. When he met a child who resembled him and Lin Yiqian, he carried the child in his arms.

“Where is your Mommy?” He asked. Calmly, the child pointed a finger at the screen of his phone.

“There. She’s performing at a concert.” Coincidentally, the screen was displaying how a wealthy fan gifted the female singer on stage with 999 roses.

Gu Nianshen’s facial expression turned spiteful as he gave his secretary an order. “Give Lin Yiqian a call. Tell her that her son has been kidnapped. She will have to turn herself in to get him in return.”

“Bad guy…” Before the child could finish uttering his sentence, his biological father had placed a hand over his mouth. “You are being kidnapped!” Gu Nianshen fumed.

- 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.