Master Pei's Wife is a Devil Concubine - Chapter 1263 - : Ending (1)

In a world where the strong prey on the weak and nobles slaughter commoners like insects, Alex was just a weak boy who lost everything to the cruelty of fate.For the sake of revenge, he rose from the ashes, determined to carve his path through a world soaked in blood and betrayal.But there is something the world does not know—something even Alex himself has yet to discover...A power buried deep within his blood, ancient and untamed, waiting to awaken.

Su Bai, who entered the horror game, obtained all-professional talents, which could light up the underworld professions.

Ghost teacher, ghost doctor, ghost psychologist, ghost painter, ghost massage therapist…

“Miss, please get dressed, I’m your teacher, don’t be shy.”

In the vampire castle, Su Bai said solemnly to a vampire girl.

“Beauty, please don’t worry, the doctor’s eyes don’t distinguish between men and women.”

In the Necronomicon Hospital, Su Bai, who was doing a gynecological examination to a glamorous female zombie, said solemnly.

“Madam, please respect my profession, I am a painter, I only sell my art, not my body…”

In the Devil’s Manor, Su Bai had some headaches. No matter what profession he chose, his charm value was full.

Even driving a taxi is molested by female ghosts.

Can you still play the game? …

- Description from novelbuddy

As a fiery young shrew, Xu Weilai was confident that no one would be able to resist her charms. However, time and again, she was thwarted by Gu Yu.

“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.