MTL - God of Taoism - v100 Chapter 693 death of red dragon

After Le Yao Yao died in the modern world, her soul ended up in another girl’s body from an ancient era. Oddly enough, the body of the girl was wearing a eunuch outfit! Before Le Yao Yao could figure out how to escape, she was found and dragged to serve the legendary Prince Rui aka Leng Jun Yu.

Prince Rui was known to be ruthless and cruel. In addition, he hated women so much that none were allowed within five steps of his reach.

Will Prince Rui do anything to Le Yao Yao? Will Le Yao Yao try to escape from the Palace?

Jiang Chaosheng has passed the book. The male protagonist is the reborn prince with excellent luck, and he is the cannon fodder prince who is destined to fail in the palace fight. He is about to be sent to the desolate island in the extreme south, and the fiefs are less than 100 people.

Jiang Chaosheng sunbathed salt, fished… He soon prepared abundant supplies for the rest of his life, but there was an accident when he was eating and waiting to die. He was slow to discover that there were fish thieves in the house!

Jiang Chaosheng set a trap and successfully caught the fish thief on the spot
It was a beautiful merman with eyes like emeralds and hair like sapphire
The poor little merman has a slender waist, glistening scales, and a pitiful posture: I can’t afford the supplies, but I can be your wife and give birth to a little mermaid to repay you
Jiang Chaosheng: Also… not impossible
After a long time, Jiang Chaosheng learned that his wife is actually the villain of the original text, the psychological shadow of the male protagonist Long Aotian, the King of the Sea who is rich in the sea.
The lucky salted fish attack vs the cruel shark emperor
Content tags: childbirth, spirits, ghosts, sweet texts, through books
Search keywords: Protagonists: Jiang Chaosheng, Ji Xuanbing ┃ Supporting roles: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

When Viscount Ascham’s House’s eldest daughter, Adele von Ascham, became 10 years old, she remembered everything with an intense headache.