Master Pei's Wife is a Devil Concubine - Chapter 1232 - : Master Pei and Su Ji Mixed Doubles! (3)

She was once the all-commanding queen of business, but when she woke up once more, she found herself disguised as the second young master of the Prime Minister’s residence!

All Chu Lian had done was to read a book where the female lead had cheated on her wonderful husband. While wondering why, before she knew it, she was waking up in the body of that very same female lead!

Wait, did that mean the handsome husband from the book was hers now? Chu Lian decided to welcome him with open arms!

However, what she got wasn’t the kind husband she had been expecting. Instead, his personality seemed to have been completely flipped! He left her all alone on their wedding night… and just five days into their marriage, her dear husband abandoned his loving wife and left to enlist in the army!

Fine! Be that way! She could pass her days perfectly well somehow, even if she had to do it alone!

Chu Lian put her household in order, charmed the rest of her new family, and did a little business on the side. She even opened up some new trade routes! Her days passed peacefully and leisurely… Until her dear husband got into trouble at the frontline of the war.

Hmph, isn’t he crawling back to me for help in the end? Forget it, I’ll go save him myself!

The main character has been reincarnated, and he possesses a system and a powerful treasure. Using these, he plans to create his own universe. Keep reading to find out more.

“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.