MTL - Indestructible Primordial Spirit - v20 Chapter 90 Disdain for Warriors' Intent

Ye Qingli is the daughter of an Imperial Businessman’s first wife, wealthy and overbearing. But because of her mother’s early funeral, she suffered utter oppression and abuse under the hands of her stepmother. On the eve of her marriage, she died tragically in the hands of her stepsister and her own fiance!

He is an overbearing, tyrannical, cold-hearted, demonic king. Grim and ruthless, only restrained by his wife and son!

Once reborn, the weak daughter transfigured into a Divine Genius Healer. There was no intersection between the two people, yet they were bestowed a paper of marriage!

Subdue and kill the Seven Wives?

Very well. This daughter also wants to kill her evil, wicked stepmother and stepsisters! Do you still dare marry me?

However, the Handsome Prince and the Divine Genius Doctor, how do you get them together?

Ye Qingli touched her chin: “So many people, which one do I choose?”

A furious royal highness: “Herald, continue dispatching orders. Whichever male creature dares get within three feet of the royal consort, kill him immediately!

- Description from Novelupdates

Divorced, disowned and down on her luck, Shui Anluo was determined to move on and live a peaceful life… That is, until her ex-husband somehow managed to find out about her baby. Now, he’s insisting that she should move back in with him.

Soon, he realizes that he cannot live without her… But the road to marriage is bumpy, and Shui Anluo isn’t too willing to go through with the heartbreak again.

Can she take back everything that belongs to her? Will she find the courage to jump in and fall in love again?

- 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.

She is intelligent, beautiful, calm, and professional. As the youngest chief forensic investigator for the past few years, her future was very bright. All of this, however, changed with a bizarre time-travel.