MTL - Rebirth: The Journey of a Wife Spoiling Her Husband - Chapter 40 The wrath of Xiao Xiao

“You died.”That was what the mysterious figure told him, but then he was given a second chance for the good deeds that he did in his previous life.“Super Prodigal System!”“Cultivate to immortality by wasting as much money as you can!”For the former number one prodigal of Earth, this was the perfect system!

He’s the dream guy of women world wide, the CEO of a formidable mega-corporation. But, he’s absolutely powerless against her, resorting to all kinds of methods to force her into a marriage, tying her to his side with a certficiate.

“Remember, from now on, you’re not allowed to enter unclean entertainment venues, not allowed to accept drinks from other men, not allowed to have physical contact with men other than me. If not, bear the consenquences.”

Ling Tianya felt that she was just like a girl undergoing puberty, under strict supervision of her parents, shackling her down with restrictions upon restrictions.

“Your requests are ridiculous, I have meetings and obligations, I… …”

The man held tightly onto her, as though wanting nothing more than to absorb her into himself. “Ling Tianya, this is not a discussion.” Therefore, the CEO had became a complete slave to his wife.

“My love for you is your perogative. Use me to your heart’s wishes, I am more than willing!”

But all he got in exchange was an eye roll, “Keep it for yourself, I don’t need it!”

- 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.

The head of the London Association of Mages, the most powerful Saint Archmage in the world, Audrey Davis, accidentally transmigrated to another world due to a magic accident. She was an 18-year-old human girl.